Page 89 of Made For Ruin

"I don't know what you want me to say, Lainey. This is a lot to process. I mean, you're dating my dad. My dad, who I've barely spoken to in months. Who I've been angry at for as long as I can remember."

"I know it's not easy. And I'm not asking you to be okay with it overnight. But I am asking you to try to understand. To see how much I care about him. How much he cares about me."

Axel looks at me for a long moment, his amber eyes so much like his father's searching mine. I can see the conflict playing out across his handsome face - the hurt and anger warring with a reluctant acceptance.

Finally, he runs a hand through his disheveled hair. "I need to get back to practice. The guys are probably wondering what's taking so long."

He pushes off the soundboard and takes a step towards me, his movements hesitant. Tentative. Like he's not sure where we stand anymore.

"I'll see you around, Lainey," he says quietly.

I nod, my throat tight. "See you around, Axel.”

The drive back home feels both heavier and lighter than the drive into town.

My heart aches with the weight of Axel's pain, the betrayal that still lingers in his eyes. But there's a lightness too, a tentative hope that maybe, just maybe, we can find our way back to being friends again. It won't be easy, and it certainly won't happen overnight. But for the first time since he found out about Marcus and me, I feel like there's a chance.

As I wind my way through the familiar twists and turns of the mountain roads, my phone buzzes. The screen lights up with an alert from the diner’s security system:

SMOKE DETECTED - BACK STORAGE.

I stare at the notification, my brain refusing to process the words.

The diner is closed on Mondays. No one should be there. I’d locked up myself last night, double-checking every door like I always do.

My hands shake as I make a U-turn, tires squealing against the pavement.

The diner’s only ten minutes away, but each second stretches into eternity. I should call the fire department. The police. Marcus. My fingers tighten on the steering wheel. No. I can handle this myself. It’s probably just a faulty wire or a broken sensor.

Questions race through my mind as I push the speedometer higher. Did I leave something on? Did one of the ancient electrical outlets finally give out?

I round the final corner, and my heart stops.

Gray smoke billows from the back of the building, twisting up into the clear morning sky. My heart leaps into my throat as I see Derrick's car parked haphazardly in the otherwise empty lot. The driver's side door hangs open, keys still dangling from the ignition.

No. It can't be. He can't be here.

I throw my car into park and race towards the diner, fear propelling me forward. The smoke grows thicker as I approach, stinging my eyes and filling my lungs. I yank open the front door, coughing as I'm engulfed in a cloud of acrid haze.

"Derrick!" I scream, my voice raw with panic. "Derrick, are you in here?"

Silence. Nothing but the crackle of flames and the pounding of my own heart in my ears.

I rush through the dining room, upending chairs and shoving aside tables as I search for any sign of him. The smoke is thickerback here, the air shimmering with heat. Fear claws at my throat as I burst into the kitchen, dreading what I might find.

"Derrick! Answer me, dammit!"

I spin in a frantic circle, my eyes darting from the prep stations to the walk-in cooler. The smoke is coming from the storage room door, ominous gray tendrils curling out from beneath the weathered wood.

Is he in there? Trapped by the flames?

I lunge for the door, my shaking hand closing around the knob. It's hot to the touch, the metal searing my palm. I grit my teeth against the pain and turn it, smoke billowing out as I wrench the door open.

"Derrick!" I cough out, squinting into the haze. "Derrick, where are you?"

I take a step forward, my heart in my throat. And then I see him.

He's sprawled on the concrete floor, his legs twisted beneath him at an unnatural angle. Blood trickles from a gash on his temple, mixing with the soot smudged across his face. His eyes are closed, his chest still.

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