Page 7 of Damascus & The Wildfire
Eva shook her head, glancing over to her friend. Pain colored her expression as she spoke in a voice thick with sadness.
“It’s today. The anniversary,” she explained. “Her fiancé died in a car accident the day before their wedding. It’s been three years.”
Silence fell over the group.
“I should check on her. I can’t believe I made her come tonight.”
I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I’d held in my chest. I cleared my throat. “I got it,” I said as I stood.
My voice came out hoarse, and all eyes shifted to me. I rarely volunteered for anything that wasn’t club business or generally fucking things up.
Eva started to object until Reaper grabbed her hand and gave her a look—one that said he’d explain later why I was the best person to talk to Kenna tonight.
It wasn’t a secret. Any man who’d been a part of the club six years ago knew about the moment my life crumbled.
I grabbed both a fifth of Jack Daniel’s and a bottle of water and stalked quietly toward the darkness. I found Kenna perched on top of a picnic table behind the clubhouse, her shoulders hunched and her hands clenched in her lap. She stared into the inky-black night. For a moment, I just watched her.
“Hey,” I said, my voice raw.
Kenna flinched, startled, but she didn’t look at me.
“Thought you might want a drink.”
She kept her eyes trained forward, her face bathed in shadows.
I held both bottles in front of her, and she grabbed the whiskey, unscrewing the top and swallowing a long pull. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and glanced at me. The corners of her glassy eyes pulled in anguish.
I slid the bottle of water closer and sat beside her, keeping space between us. The silence stretched, broken by the occasional laugh at the bonfire and the distant melody of country music.
I grabbed the whiskey bottle from her hands, taking a long drink before starting to speak. “Anniversaries are hell.”
Kenna stared at the trees. Her expression stayed unreadable. “Eva figured it out?”
I gave her a slow nod as I swept my gaze over her tense body.
“I hate this day.” She let out a shaky breath. “This isn’t theanniversary he deserved. That we deserved.” She grabbed the whiskey and took another sip before handing it back.
I swallowed a shot of my own. “Six years ago, I was on a run. My old lady was on the back of my bike. We’d fought all day. I was fuming. Distracted.” I took another swig of the whiskey and handed it to Kenna. “We were passing through a school zone. A teenager changed lanes. Didn’t even see us. I reacted too slowly.”
Kenna swallowed another mouthful of liquor and glanced at me.
My voice cracked as I continued. “Rose flew off the bike. I hit the pavement. She was gone before I could stand up.”
Kenna stayed silent for a beat before speaking in a flat, acerbic tone. “Is this the part where you tell me everything happens for a reason? Or that Alec is in a better place? Or that he wouldn’t want me to be sad?”
I gave Kenna a grim smile and swiped the bottle from her. “No. This is where I tell you that you’re not alone and offer you more liquor to take the edge off.”
She managed a hollow laugh. “Does it ever work?”
“No. But it’s never stopped me from trying.”
She let out a deep, shaky sigh. “Once I let myself think about Alec, once I open that door, I can’t stop it. It’s like a dam breaking. The guilt, the memories. They drown me.”
Grief bubbled up in my chest, and I pressed the feelings down. I stared at my scarred knuckles. “For me, it’s like sharp rocks on a sandy beach. Some days I can walk across it just fine. Avoid the rocky areas. But other days, the pain cuts me. Makes me bleed. Sometimes it brings me to my fucking knees.”
We sat in heavy silence for a long time. I’d heard people say talking about loss helped. Those people were full of shit.
After a while, Kenna exhaled. “I think I want to go home.”
