Page 11 of Sorrow

The truck comes to an abrupt stop in the middle of the road, and those hateful eyeslock on me as the seatbelt nearly chokes me. “Is this a fucking joke to you?”

The sudden lack of movement makes me nauseous. My head is swimming, heart pounding. I can’t be here right now. Not with him. I don’t even know what I said.

Grabbing the door handle, I try to run — but the door doesn’t budge. It’s not locked, yet it won’t open. I’m stuck.

What the fuck?

Taking a measured breath, I turn back to him and try to keep my voice steady. “Nate won’t fuck me because he says he doesn’t have time to break me in. If that’s what Tristan wanted, it didn’t have to be violent. That’s all I was saying. Why won’t my door open?”

Silence answers me. There’s nothing but the weight of his stare and our heavy breaths to keep me company until he’s stepping on the gas again. “Broken.”

Does he mean me or the door?

Truthfully, I don’t think it matters.

“Yeah.”

“Why do you even want a guy that won’t give you his time, anyway?”

Maybe it’s the booze, maybe it’s the close call I just escaped. Maybe I just don’t careanymore. But for the first time in years, I’m completely honest with him.

“He’s my ticket out.”

“Out?” he repeats. “Of where? Your brother’s house?”

“This whole sorry town.”

His jaw flexes, but if he had any actual response to what I just shared, I’ll never know. The color drains from his face as we pull onto my street. I’m about to argue with him further, but I follow his gaze and feel my whole world drop out from under me.

My house is on fire.

Everything slows to a crawl. My heartbeats, my movements, the words coming out of Hayes’ mouth that my brain won’t pick up. Suddenly I’m not in the cab of an old beat up Chevy, I’m somewhere up above watching someone in my body slam her palms against the window of a door that won’t open.

I’m watching the person in my body scream. It’s weird, I feel it in my throat — but it’s not really me, it’s her. She’s the one screaming, watching Hayes get out and kick the front door down.

The thing was practically falling off the hinges, anyway.

I watch her struggle to open the truck door and finally give up, crawling over the bench seat and falling headfirst out into the snow. It feels warmer now, the air.

I guess he won’t have to fix the furnace.

My face becomes wet with tears I don’t think I’m crying as I realize Hayes isn’t coming back out. He’s been in there too long, there’s too much smoke.

I crawl forward trying to push myself to my feet, but the ice is... ice. I can’t get my footing.

All at once I’m ripped from where I’m watching somewhere safe and far away and shoved back into my body when he comes back out covered in soot, but looking unharmed. “What the hell!” I gasp. “What were you thinking?”

He’s coughing so hard it takes a moment for him to answer, but even as he struggles to breathe, he starts moving me further back. “I had to make sure Boo wasn’t in there.”

Did I miss his cruiser? No, if Boo was home, he’d have been the one to come get me. He wouldn’t have sent Hayes knowing how we feel about each other. He’s at work safe and sound, which means Hayes just risked his life for no reason. “You idiot, you could’ve died! He’s not even here!”

“Sorry to disappoint,” he growls, lifting me back into the truck again with nothing but pity written all over his face. “Fuck, it’s all gone, Sam. All of it. I grabbed this.”

He pulls out a family portrait back from when my parents were alive and hands it over, numbing me completely.

It’s all gone.

If nothing else, the fact that he called me by my name and not some rude nickname is enough to tell me how serious it is.

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