Reverie
Page 32
Technically, I hadn’t because my dad’s associates, who included my older brother Jett, didn’t actually invest the money where I’d recommended them to do so. Instead, they’d patted my back and told me I’d done good work and research. Come to find out, had they invested where I’d said to, they’d have been all the richer. Investment, risk, and math came easily to me. My dad finally witnessed it, and the man probably would have bought my ass anything at that point.
I rubbed my hands over the steering wheel and smiled to myself. The long nights of research had been worth it. I planned to take care of this truck for years. It was special to me, the first real thing I’d earned.
So, when I turned the corner to our block and hit the gas full speed—not thinking about whether or not I’d crash or worrying about rocks flying up and denting the metal—it was for a damn good reason.
I saw fire. Fire dancing like a tyrant taking over Aubrey’s house.
Red.
Scorching.
Burning.
Fire.
I should have called 9-1-1. I should have stood back and waited for the fire department. Instead, I floored the gas, drove right up her driveway and jumped from the truck.
It wasn’t heroism that fueled me, but fear. It damn near swallowed me up, flooded my lungs and drowned me. My fight to get to Aubrey was a fight against that fear. It choked me and had me struggling to break free. She could be in there. She could be hurt. She could be ...
I didn’t think about anything but her.
I ran towards the door. I heard someone in the distance yelling my name, but I didn’t turn, I didn’t hesitate. I tried to open the door but it was locked. I roared and kicked it in near the handle.
Smoked billowed out of the house and I plowed in. I paused in the living room, realizing I had no idea of the layout of her house. I had never been in it. The fire swayed, furious with the wind that had entered the room with me. The smoke invaded my lungs and eyes immediately. I scanned the room, trying to make out hallways, searching for Aubrey. The flames and smoke created a maze, one I wasn’t sure I could navigate. As I stood in the middle of the room, overwhelmed with my dilemma, the flames seemed to crackle in laughter at me.
Through a cough, I yelled, “Peaches, where are you?”
I heard coughing coming from a room to my left and darted for it down a short hallway.
“Aubrey?”
I heard a whimper on the other side and tried to open the door.
It was locked. Triple locked. I stepped back to kick it in, but it didn’t budge. The door echoed a metal sound back at me. It was as if the door was sarcastically saying to me, “I’m made of steel, dumbass,” while the fire continued to roar in the background.
Smoke joined in, taking over the hallway. I coughed harder and harder. I tried to take in a breath but choked on it.
I sunk to the ground and whispered, “Aubrey, the door. It’s locked. I can’t get it open.”
Another whimper.
“Peaches,” I coughed. “Where are the keys?”
All I heard was, “Dad.”
Everything clicked then. The weird phone call. The anger on the other line. How weird Jay had been acting.
Her father was a fucking psychopath.
We all knew it. We just didn’t know it to this extent. I crawled farther down the hallway to another door. This one was unlocked and as I opened the door and crawled in, I realized the air wasn’t saturated with smoke but with the smell of alcohol. I welcomed it as I gasped and gasped until I could stand.
That’s when I saw Frank—passed out facedown on his bed—completely oblivious to the chaos engulfing his home. A bottle of Macallan was tipped over next to him, and it looked like only a few drops had made it onto the floor rather than down his throat.
Finding those keys had to be my top priority, even as I considered pummeling him over the head with that empty bottle. I snatched them from his pocket and turned to make my way back to Aubrey.
Some might hope I thought over my choices, weighed leaving a man to die, or that I considered my decision.
I didn’t.
The only hope I had for him was that he burned to death.
I took my shirt off, put it over my nose and ran back to the locked door. I unlocked it and shoved it open. She was curled up by the door, her face too swollen to even see her eyes. Her mother’s face was worse, if possible. I picked Peaches up and whispered, “I got you.” Then to her mother, I yelled, “Let’s go!”
The woman just paced back and forth in front of the window that was barred on the inside. “He will come. He will come,” she mumbled.
The smoke invaded the room like a snake of fury. It slithered in, ready to attack any space it could. I kept beckoning to Aubrey’s mother, but she wasn’t snapping out of whatever the fuck was wrong with her.
With Aubrey still in my arms, I lunged in front of her mother’s pacing. Her dark eyes clashed with mine and I saw recognition ignite in them.
“My husband didn’t come?” She all but accused me.
I just shook my head and coughed out, “We have to get out of here.”
She glanced at her daughter in my arms and a silent plea passed between them. It was the first time I saw Aubrey really communicate with her mother. I noticed the fake conversations she had with her in front of us all the time, the poised looks, and the hollow smiles.
This time, I felt her body curl in on itself and saw her clenching her fists. Then, she spread her fingers like they might give her the courage she needed. Aubrey’s green eyes widened, even with the swelling around them. They held determination and strength through pain. And I’d be damned if they didn’t beg her mother to feel the strength too. The look warped to bleeding desperation though, as we both saw the resignation in her mother’s eyes.
Aubrey reached her arm out and started to lean toward the fire and her mother, who was backing away from both of us into it. “No, Mom. Don’t.”
Her mother’s eyes snapped to mine. “Take care of her.”
With that, she darted out of the room and down the hallway.
Then, Aubrey started screaming. She was a daughter losing her mother and she fought me like it.
I ran for the front door, opposite the direction her mother went. I didn’t waste energy comforting her. I saved it to keep her safe, all while she wailed on me and squirmed to go after her parents. The maze of flames had grown, and I decided to make a run right through it.
We burst through the front door, Aubrey crying in my arms, fire trucks pulling up, and my mother crying on the front lawn. I dropped to my knees on the grass beside her, and we exchanged knowing glances. She must have seen something in my expression because instead of crying tears of joy that we’d made it out alive, she laid her hand on Aubrey’s cheek and shushed the screams coming from her.
That night, those screams ricocheted through my very being and they became the ones that haunted my sanity, making me question everything. I kept hold of her until she calmed down.
Paramedics continued to check our vitals and ask questions. I would never remember what they asked me, but I remember staring at that house. I remember the crackle and popping of wood that descended once Aubrey stopped screaming.
She didn’t look at me, and I didn’t look at her.
We stared at the house, and I felt my mom wipe tears from my eyes when firefighters appeared with two bodies, neither of which looked like they had life in them.
“She left us, just for him,” Aubrey said. Her voice cracked and sounded numb, void of emotion. It didn’t sound like her at all. Her mother’s decision had changed her.
My decision changed me too. I left both of Aubrey’s parents to die to save her. I left them to burn to death, and I felt void of guilt.
That was the day I realized I’d do anything for that girl.
It was the day I realized I loved her.
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About Shain Rose
Shain Rose is an author of Contemporary Romance and New Adult novels. She fights for love one word at a time. Those happily ever afters can sometimes be a bitch to get to.
When she isn't writing, she's spending the days with her husband, daughter, son, and terrible cat. She and her husband drink way too much coffee, eat way too much candy, and laugh way too much. Life is good when the kids are behaving.
On the off chance she’s not writing or spending time with family and friends, she’s calling them to talk. And if no one answers, then she's reading and watching trashy TV.
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Acknowledgments
Bloggers, readers, every single person taking a chance on me: thank you for reading my words. Thank you for helping me do what I love and believing in me. Sharing my dream with you is one of the most amazing things I’ve ever had the privilege to do.
I have family and friends that consistently show up and show out.
Ride or die.
Always have to give it up for my hubs. I don’t put him out there on blast as the best husband ever because he’s private as hell. Still, I have to say I love him for being the best at everything. He’s my number one fan, my ride or die, my best friend, and my absolute favorite.
Everyone knows how difficult these last few months have been with the pandemic and so many changes to our world. I seriously couldn’t have finished this book without my family. Shamiah, Mom, Karah, I love you.
My children were literally no help. The only thing I can thank them for is proving to me that I could write a book on no sleep. #stilllovethemtimesamillion
Ladies, you know who you are. I might not be answering your phone calls (I’m a terrible friend) but you’ll always be my besties.
Author ladies! Andrea, Dannie, H², the whole sprint chat: THANK YOU for listening to me, for pushing me, for letting me freak out with questions, for looking at a million covers with me, for going on this journey with me. I seriously couldn’t do this without you!