Page 65 of Xavier

Heading into my bathroom, I took a quick shower and freshened up before going back into my room to retrieve my phone. Sure enough, there was a message from Gage wishing me a good sleep with a few emojis accompanying it.

To my surprise, directly under that was one from Dexter that simply read: ‘Thank you, dad. I love you’.

“Ugh.” I slapped my hand over my heart while my body pitched forward, overwhelmed with both love and guilt that seemed to want to battle in trying to be at the forefront of whatever my emotions were trying to decide on how I felt.

Even though I knew in the back of my mind that Dexter didn’t hate me, a message like this was still a nice confirmation.

I hoped he didn’t regret telling me anything. I hoped that from now on, we could turn over a new leaf and start fresh—no more skeletons hidden in the closet.

Typing out a heartfelt reply back to him, I sent it on its way before tossing my phone back onto my bed and grabbing a fresh set of clothes to change into for the evening.

I’d give him the rest of the week to be by himself and then invite him over for dinner and a movie or something. With Christmas right around the corner, there was no sense in overwhelminghim with a bunch of activities and running around the city trying to fill the awkward void left by him opening up to me.

Starting small after having gone through some major turmoil was probably best, even if he didn’t blame me for it. The last thing I wanted was for Dexter to feel like some kind of freak around me now that I knew his secret. That was a common thing for people to feel when opening up about trauma, yet I didn’t want that to happen regardless of the circumstances.

I’d been treated like a damn pariah after being forced out of the closet and outed to everyone around me. So, like hell I was going to let my kid have to go through something similar.

Since Kate and I were agreeing to work together now, I’d have to bring up getting Dexter into some form of counseling before he was off to college in a few months. It wasn’t good for him to fester on these horrible memories by himself. He needed an expert to help him work through everything to untangle the mess that had been done to him by someone he should’ve been able to trust.

No wonder he’d kept everyone at arm’s length.

Shaking my head, I made my way across my house to the kitchen. I was suddenly starving, having only eaten a small box of raisins on the plane ride over here that had tasted barely edible. Now that I was back on solid ground, I wanted something that was actually real food.

Passing by the police scanner I kept hooked up to the outlet in my kitchen, I flicked it on to listen to the tones while grabbing a box of pasta out of the pantry. This was the kind of familiarity that grounded me. The only thing missing was my boyfriendcrowding up the small space while pretending he knew how to heat a can of red sauce on the stove.

Just as I was setting a pot on the stove to bring it to a boil, the radio went off again with another set of tones, followed by an automated message that said:“All units and medical personnel, please respond to eight-five-five River Street, Sacramento County.”

I whipped around. That was my street.

Jogging toward my front door, I ripped it open and stepped out onto my porch, facing east to where eight fifty-five was located only five houses down from mine. Black plumes of smoke clouded the sky, billowing up at a fast rate that meant the building that was caught on fire was burningfast.

“Fuck.”

Of course I didn’t have any of my gear with me, but with no sounds of sirens nearby and no flashing lights on the street right outside of the residence, I was going to wager that the next unit on scene wouldn’t be there for another two minutes.

Which in the event of a fire, meant life or death.

Sprinting to my closet, I threw on the best thick clothing I had while shoving my feet into a pair of the only thick-soled boots in my closet. Grabbing another shirt off of a hanger, I used it to wrap around the lower half of my face in a makeshift mask. It’d barely help but until the trucks arrived, there wasn’t much else I could do.

Heading back to the front of my house, I found my spare axe sitting against the wall in the hall closet where I’d tucked it into the corner for emergencies.

The weight of it was comfortable in my hand when I gripped it tightly before heading out of the house with the door slamming shut behind me. People were beginning to gather on the sidewalk outside of their homes with the distant sounds of a truck blaring through the streets.

Judging by the way it was echoing against the houses, I’d say it was at least another mile and a half out.

Coming up to the burning house, the heat hit me hard. The fire was contained to the top floor, flames licking out of the open—or rather shattered—window while climbing up to the worn roof. Black smoke had collected on the bottom level, making it impossible to see inside to check if anyone was still in there.

A neighbor sprinted outside from the house next to it, a phone held up to her ear while she chattered on to dispatch.

I grabbed her arm to stop her from heading across the street. “Who’s in there?”

Her eyes were frantic. “I don’t know! They’re an older couple. I have nine-one-one on the phone!”

Older couple. That wasn’t good. That meant there was a potential for either mobility issues or pre-existing health problems. Or both.

“The car is in the driveway!” She pointed to the small car park next to the house. “I think they’re still in there!”

Two men from the house across the street were running toward the house—both of them touting leather jackets and bandanas over their mouths. I shoved the woman toward the street again, gesturing for her to wait on the opposite sidewalk while thanking her.

---