Page 174 of Things We Burn

It was nice to have a label, a diagnosis. There were many things I could do to combat it, though the ‘make sure you’re getting enough sleep’ was a laughable concept.

I thought about her death often. About the myriad of ways she could be taken from us. Suffocating in her sleep, choking, some obscure sickness, a food allergy. The list of things tookmy breath away and panic crawled over my skin knowing how fragile she was. How helpless I was.

But I was learning to let go of things, to not try so hard to control everything since an eight month old was uncontrollable. I tried to trust that nothing would happen to her.

“Babe?” I asked Kane, still looking at Mabel’s smile. At the time, she was craning her head to the hall to look for her father. She was obsessed with him and usually let out squeals of delight whenever he arrived home, even if he had been gone for less than an hour. He’d been gone since early morning, so surely, she’d be screeching.

Seeing the bond between them, seeing him grow as a father, made me feel simultaneous joy and pain while thinking about the own father I’d lost. I’d forgiven him, finally, my father. Not that I’d had any other choice. Dead men were forgiven easier.

My inner thoughts were not punctuated by Mabel’s squeals. Instead, the smile died on her face as she stared at the hall with a tilt to her head and an uncertain expression.

My blood immediately chilled, and I froze in place. Call it what you will, motherly instincts, intuition, but I knew the person standing behind me was not Kane.

I held my breath, looking around for something, anything to use as a weapon. My phone was across the kitchen, as were all the sharp and pointy things. Out of the grasp of little fingers. The only thing in reaching distance was a rubber spoon that Mabel was waving in her grubby hands.

That was then I noticed Blanche’s absence. I’d let her out to the bathroom minutes before. Under protest, she’d left her spot beneath the high chair where she had proximity to Mabel and snacks from whatever Mabel dropped. I searched for her outside and saw the slash of golden fur, lying lifeless on the deck. My mouth dried with terror.

“Isn’t this cozy?” a voice sneered.

I turned, unable and unwilling to have my back to him. I’d recognized his voice immediately, of course.

Brax.

He looked a lot different than the last time I saw him. No bespoke suit, no fancy haircut or fake tan. No smarmy grin.

He was disheveled. Much thinner than he had been and pale, gaunt almost. His hair was mussed and longer, a thick layer of patchy stubble covering his jaw. His gray tee was rumpled, hanging off him.

And he was holding a gun.

I sucked in an unsteady breath and moved my body so Mabel was completely behind me.

Brax was there. In our kitchen.

I’d asked Kane what happened to Brax since he’d sworn to ‘kill him’ in a way that seemed very literal. Kane had replied by saying that he was ‘taken care of.’ That had seemed ominous, but a quick Google search couldn’t find a missing person or obituary anywhere, so I was relieved that Kane wasn’t at risk of incarceration for murder.

I hadn’t given it much thought beyond that. We had other things going on.

“You ruined my life,” Brax snarled, taking another step into the kitchen.

Every muscle in my body went taut. I kept my focus on him as Mabel started protesting my back being to her. My stomach lurched at the situation I was in. An obviously angry, desperate and armed man was in my kitchen with me and my baby. Defenseless.

Kane was supposed to be home soon. He’d messaged that he was making the drive home what, an hour ago? Two? I couldn’t remember.

But even if he did come home, what could he do? His shotgun was locked away upstairs, in a safe as I had requested. But hewas much more physically fit than Brax, and the sheer rage he’d feel protecting his family would save us. That I knew.

Except he wasn’t there to save us.

“You need to leave. Now,” I demanded, conjuring my best ice queen voice. “Right now. You’re breaking and entering. Leave before it’s something you can’t come back from.”

Brax laughed. It was an ugly sound with an edge of mania. “It’s not breaking and entering, you dumb bitch. The door wasn’t even locked. You think you’re untouchable here.”

I didn’t ask how he got past the gate; it was an insignificant detail at that point. He’d gotten past it. He was there.

He took another step forward. I pressed myself into Mabel’s highchair, and her banana covered hands clawed at my back.

“You’re not,” he continued. “You’re not going to ruin my career either. I getthat.” He waved the gun in Mabel’s direction, and acid burned my esophagus. “If I get the first scoop and picture of the famous child, I’ll have my in.”

I stared at him, understanding that I was looking at a completely unhinged man.

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