Page 25 of Sorrow

Her icy blue eyes are cloudy when I’m finally done and she’s swallowed it all, looking up at me but not really seeing me.

She’s exactly where I want her, exactly where she needs to be. Suddenly I’m forced to admit I’m not training her for some other dude, not really. I’m training her forme.

I just can’t ever admit that again, not even to myself.

“I still don’t want you to pull off. Rest your head right here and breathe with me. Keep me warm, my beautiful Hurricane.”

I don’t know why I just called her that, but I can’t help it after the way she just surrendered herself to me completely.

I’m not sure I deserved it.

Yet as she lays her head on the same thigh she drew blood from and settles in, I see what that took out of her. What theworldhas taken out of her. There are bags underher baby blues again and scars I’ve never noticed before, and the way her shoulders slump makes me want to murder everyone who’s ever hurt her.

Unfortunately, I’m at the top of that list.

I don’t know how to fix what I’ve done, but for now, I can ensure that nothing and no one causes her harm. I’ll never tease her for this, never use it against her in any way, because I know it took everything in her to allow herself to be vulnerable for me. This is a gift, and as I feel her slip away and slowly reach out to pet her face, I don’t know how I could ever make her feel shitty again. After everything, she trusts me enough to sleep in my lap, and I’d be a real asshole if I forgot the level of devotion she’s offering me right now.

Nothing about this feels temporary, but I’m going to have to remember that itis— or else I’m going to watch her walk away with my fucking heart in her pocket.

There’s no world where I let that happen.

12

My throat feels raw as I follow Boo out of the cruiser and onto our old property. I blame Hayes and his incessant need for violence, but I also blame all the crying I did in the shower this morning.

That part wasn’t Hayes’ fault for once. It was me getting my emotions out of my system before coming here. I have to be as strong as my brother.

“Yeah, this’ll be fun,” he grunts, yanking down the plywood they slapped up where our front door used to be. Part of the singed frame comes with it, making me flinch.

This house wasn’t much, but it was home. It was the last place I saw my parents, the last place my family was whole. It was the only place I ever truly belonged... and now it’s ash. Ash and dust and nothing but a memory.

“Come on. Watch where you step, I don’t know how solid this floor is anymore. Just fan out and see if you can find anything worth saving.”

I don’t answer him with anything more than a quick nod. The words feel too thick to say. But with each step I take through the first hallway and into the decimated kitchen, flashbacks of my childhood interrupt the terrible view in front of me.

Dad, making french toast every day during the summer we had chickens. The coyotes made quick work of them, but we ate like royalty for almost two months.

Mom, teaching me how to cook and clean. Even she knew that my best shot at getting out of here was pleasing a man, she just went about it the wrong way.

Boo, laying on the living room floor and making me fly like an airplane anytime I was sad. He also used to practice wrestling moves on me in the same spot, but even those prepared me for things he wasn’t expecting.

All over this house, there are traces of me. Traces of them. Traces of the kind of love I haven’t felt in almost a decade.

Now, all I see is snow-covered, dripping wet, absolutely scorched destruction.

So maybe our dishes are cracked from the heat of the flames and our appliances will never run again. Maybe my clothes are damp and smell like heartbreak and my books are incinerated. So what if the couch is reduced to coils and the roof has a hole in it the size of the moon, letting all that snow in. None of that shit matters to me.

It’s the memories and the security of having a soft place to land that I’ll miss the most.

Well... and Rocky, too.

Rocky.

Rocks don’t burn.

With the first flicker of hope I’ve felt in weeks, I rush back to my room and dig through the cotton candy insulation, wood planks, burned blankets and sopping wet clothes. Every pile of rubbish I look through results in nothing, but that just means I’m getting closer. I know it has to be here.

I’m just not looking hard enough.

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