Page 77 of Buried Roots

“But you don’t need this business to survive, Willow. You’ll figure it out. You have a home here with people who love you. And you can still have a good life if your business goes bankrupt. It’s not ideal, but maybe it’s a blessing in disguise.”

I stare into space, trying to process his words. Somewhere deep inside me, I know he’s right, but I can’t accept that. Icannotaccept failure. I say, “When you’ve been fighting your whole life, you can’t stop.”

“When is enough enough?”

“I don’t know, but not now. My employees. My clients. I have to fix this mess because I can’t let them down.” I should’ve been there.

“Oh, shit.” Owen’s gaze is glued up ahead, his words anguished.

My stomach knots. “What?” I look to see orange and red flickers in the sky, smoke filling the air. But I can’t tell where it’s coming from. “Where is it?”

“I think it’s your house!”

Owen and I break into a sprint, and I can barely see as my vision blurs from stress and the gray haze filling the night air.

No, no, no. As we get to the lake, I’m forced to accept that Owen was right. Itismy house.

As we step into the pasture, my breath stops entirely. The smell, like solder mixed with burning rubber and wood, hits like a blow.

Goats bleat in the barn, terrified. Fiery ash floats in the air, and the warm night air has turned sweltering.

I look to the house, my beautiful house. The town’s beautiful house. My proudest work of art.Ourwork of art. Our blood, sweat, and tears.

It’s engulfed in a blaze of deep red and amber, flames licking up the sides of the broken windows, leaving black char in its wake.

29

The Gray Night

Iletoutabloodcurdling scream. “The house! It’s gone!”

I can’t wrap my head around it.How did this happen?

Did I do it? Did I forget to turn off the stove in the kitchen? I don’t know. Irememberchecking everything, but these days, that doesn’t mean much.

“The stables are burning too!” Owen says, turning back, before taking off.

A gag lurches in my throat, and I’m losing ground behind him, and through the smoky haze, I finally see the stables. “The horses. Oreo!” I shriek, barely recognizing my own voice.

We’re running, and all I feel is the ground shifting under my feet as my legs carry me toward the billowing smoke. It’s so hot it’s unbearable, and the roaring sound, like a jet plane, is busting my eardrums.

Getting closer, I cough from the thick, bitter air that’s sticking in my lungs.

“Stay back!” Owen orders.

Not a chance. He’s faster than me, but I stick behind him. Flames engulf the stable walls, and the roof sags. The thought of what this means guts me whole. “Please,not the horses!”

In the distance, beyond the haze, Raven and Blackjack gallop away. I’m glad they’re out, but I don’t see Eclipse, and worse, I don’t see Oreo. He wouldn’t be fast or strong enough to make it out on his own. I let out a wail, my eyes tearing up from emotions and the burning smoke.

I’m in a coughing fit when Owen runs directly into the flames. Choking, I fall to the ground. I can’t breathe—I truly can’t breathe. I stand and stagger away, and when I manage to get to fresher air, I gulp it before running back. “Owen, get out of there now!”

I blink away burning tears as sirens roar in the distance. They can still save the barn!

Seconds feel like hours as the crackle and snap of the structures breaking and crumbling has my stomach twisted into agonizing knots. My brain can’t process what’s happening—it’s almost as if I’m floating above myself, watching a movie about my worst nightmare. No. Worse than my worst nightmare.

“Owen!” I scream again, the horses forgotten at the thought of something happening to him. “Owen, please!” I beg, my voice strangled again in the sooty air. I go to run inside, my skin burning from the heat, and a fiery beam crashes to the ground in front of me.

I halt, furiously blinking back the flood of tears from the anguish and thick smoke. The sirens stop as voices echo nearby. I can’t hear what they’re saying, but I yell, “Owen’s in there! Help him!”

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