Page 81 of The Truths We Burn

Our emotions run too high, our blood too hot.

Silas and Thatcher can easily conceal their emotions. Hell, Thatch doesn’t even feel them.

Alistair and I, we live in the anger. In the feeling. We use it for fuel.

“Not really, but it works,” I say. “Sorry,” I direct towards Ali.

He swings his open palm at me, knocking me in the head. “Don’t ever say something like that about Briar again. She’s actually starting to like you.”

“As opposed to what? Me?”

We both look at Thatcher, who has the audacity to play dumb when he knows Briar Lowell can’t fucking stand him, and for some reason, he has no problem making sure it continues that way.

I hear footsteps approaching from behind me, already aware of who it is before he appears in my peripheral vision.

Silas stands, staring at the chair to the east of the fire pit, the one where he used to sit with Rosemary on his lap. His hands are shoved in his pockets as he looks vacantly at the space. I would say that I’d give anything to know what he’s thinking, but we all know.

It’s always her.

“Hey, man,” I call to him. “You been with your parents?”

It’s then he turns his attention to us, pulling the hood from his head and exposing his buzzed head. “Yeah.”

“Still trying to bribe you away from here?”

“Never stopped. Just gotten worse since Rose.”

I know they love him, his father especially, but he doesn’t need to leave. He doesn’t even need support. He just needs them to understand he isn’t going anywhere right now and accept that. The constant nagging about him going to a different state or school only makes it worse.

It only hurts him more. He knows that eventually, he’ll have to leave Ponderosa Springs, but leaving feels like leaving her now. Considering he can’t move her grave with him—trust me, he would try it—she’d be staying here while he was moving on.

That’s the last thing he wants right now. He isn’t ready for that.

No one is.

“Alright, Fire God, give us some light,” Thatcher pushes, sitting back down now that tempers have settled.

I nod, taking a deep breath. I start walking towards the pile of wood that I’d stacked, using the lighter fluid and the match from my mouth to start the blaze. Watching the flames climb higher soothes the blisters inside of me even if it’s just for a few seconds.

Tilting my head back, I let the fire heat my skin, inhaling the wood’s thick smoke that rolls from the pit. Standing this close, I can feel the little embers crackling against it, little gasoline kisses against my chest that make my toes curl.

All four of us take our seats and stay there in silence.

We don’t need to talk—we never really have. We don’t show up here to chat about our days or talk hair salon gossip.

We come here to exist.

It’s the only place in this town where we can just be. A small sliver of what the world outside of this place will be like. When we leave, people won’t stop in the street to stare and whisper. Parents won’t clutch their children’s hands tighter when they see us. No one will care, because they don’t know us.

To everyone else, we are just random guys living life.

Here, we are nothing but the bad apples they can blame their problems on.

And at the end of the day, all we really want is to exist in a world that doesn’t paint us as villains.

Headlights scatter through the trees, casting a glow onto Thatcher, who sits in front of me. I turn in my chair as if I’m going to be able to see the person who is getting out of their vehicle and heading towards us in the dark.

“Did you invite the pet?” Thatcher asks Alistair.

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