Fire

by McAdams, Molly

  Shit.

  My head hit the hardwood as I squeezed my eyes tight and tried like hell to calm myself. But that feeling was in my veins and on my skin. Telling me to keep going.

  “I can’t,” Mom sobbed. “I can’t—we can’t do this anymore. It has to be done.”

  “Wendy,” Dad said, voice sharp.

  “He needs help!” she yelled, her voice fading from the room but still managing to pierce my chest. When she continued, her words steadily grew louder as she returned. “He needs what we can’t give him. He needs people who can control him, Mike, and we can’t do that.”

  “The answer is no,” he said firmly. “We’ll talk later.”

  “We’re talking now,” she argued. “I am his mother, and I need to do what’s best for him.”

  “What’s best is his family,” Dad shouted louder than I’d ever heard. “Stability. Not that bullshit you’re trying to put on him. That’ll only make him worse.”

  “You’re wrong. I’ve talked with them. They’ve had plenty of boys like Beau, and they’ve helped them. I know they’ll—know they’ll—” She burst into tears and sagged to the arm of a chair. “They’ll help.”

  I’d gone still long before.

  My heart so, so slow as I listened. Watched. Felt every word cut through me.

  That sickness inside lingering.

  Waiting.

  Ready to ignite.

  “We ain’t doin’ this in front of the kids,” Dad said firmly.

  “I already sent in an application.”

  Dad pushed off me, turning to look fully at Mom at her confession.

  Another sob broke free from her. “It has to be done.” Her eyes drifted to me. “I’m so sorry. I’m sorry, I love you. I love you so much, but I don’t know what else to do.”

  Hunter’s grip slowly tightened on my shoulder. As if he could feel the shift in me. Like he was holding onto a bomb that was about to explode.

  My stare went to Cayson’s blood-smeared face and then over to where Sawyer was cradling his arm. Knowing whatever happened to him had been my fault even though I couldn’t remember it. Just past them, Madison stood, holding Emberly close to her side.

  All of them were watching my mom, waiting to find out what was going on.

  But as much as I was dreading whatever had my parents fighting in a way I’d never seen and had my mom looking the way she did, I was more afraid to find out when the room was full.

  If I lost control when no one was around, I lashed out against the closest thing to me—like a wall.

  I wouldn’t take my family down with me . . . again.

  “I should be alone when I find out,” I choked out.

  “Nothin’ to find out because it ain’t happenin’,” Dad said decisively.

  “It has—”

  “Wendy—”

  “I sent in an application to a military academy,” she yelled over him, fat tears falling down her cheeks as she looked at me.

  I couldn’t move.

  I couldn’t breathe.

  That feeling building inside me? It terrified me.

  “Down in Harlingen,” she explained. “If you get in, we’ll see how things are for you at the end of next school year.”

  What the fuck?

  She shrugged as her cries prevented her from continuing for a while. “But this has to be done. They can help you.”

  What the fuck? What the fuck?

  “Nothin’ to help,” Dad ground out. “He’s not goin’—you ain’t goin’, Beau.”

  My voice was low and ragged when I said, “Get away from me.”

  “Take a breath, man,” Hunter said quickly. “Think of Savannah—what she would say right now.” From his hushed curse, he realized his mistake as soon as he mentioned her.

  My heart twisted. Splintered. Shattered.

  And everything went so, so red.

  I tossed my keys to the side, not bothering to pick them up when they slid off the table and hit the hardwood floor. Each step feeling like it took all my strength as I struggled to make it somewhere I could lay down.

  But just as I was nearing the couch, a key sounded in the lock. After a longing look at the couch, I turned to stare at the door, brows drawn close together. No one had come to the condo in the two and a half weeks I’d been staying there, but I didn’t have the energy to care about who it might be.

  And then my brother walked in.

  Stare sweeping the place until catching on me, body going still as the door closed behind him. “Beau.”

  “Cayson.” I nodded toward the table my keys hadn’t landed on. “Here for your stuff?”

  Hesitation crept through the space between us for a moment before he reacted. Body rocking to the side and head slanting. “No. Uh . . .” He cleared his throat and gestured around. “We’re keeping it like this. Emberly wants to rent it out.”

  I dipped my head, gaze darting around to the few things I had there. “I’ll leave.”

  “No, no. Stay however long you need. Just something we were talking about for later,” he explained as he moved deeper into the condo, toward me. Stopping when he was a handful of feet away, watching me like he didn’t know where to begin.

  Knew the look because I felt the same.

  I’d only seen Cayson a handful of times in the six-or-so months since he’d come back to Amber. The first two had gone about how I’d always thought they would—all hostile sneers ripping from me as I’d tried dragging him from my home.

  Then again, I’d hated him for a damn long time.

  Blamed him for the painful domino effect that had destroyed our family.

  The next time he’d shown up, explaining all the fucked-up shit our dad had done to him and the family business, I’d once again wished Cayson had never come back. Because in his revelation, he’d torn apart a man I’d looked up to, revealing his true, abusive nature. And I’d been slammed with the horrifying realization that Dad and I were the same. Consumed with the crippling fear that, one day, I would turn on one of my kids the way he’d done to Cayson. Verbally, mentally, and physically beating them down because I was no better than he was.

  “You busy?” Cayson finally asked, trying to break through the awkward tension sitting between us.

  I lifted a hand as if to show I wasn’t. “Just got back from Blossom.”

  His brows lifted. “Yeah?”

  A lifeless laugh tumbled past my lips. “Yeah.” I stepped back to the couch and sank heavily onto it, running my hands over my face and through my hair before letting them hang between my knees. “Savannah finally let me back yesterday to see the kids.”

  My jaw worked as I thought through the hours with them. Hours that went by too quickly in the middle of days that were so damn long.

  “She’s letting me go over after work until they go to bed. I’ll take what I can get.”

  “Damn,” he breathed as he sat in a large chair opposite me. “Have y’all talked about it?”

  My narrowed stare shifted to where he was messing with his phone. “She won’t. The hell is that shit?” I asked when a song started playing through his phone.

  “Dixie Chicks.”

  “No.”

  A wry smile slowly crossed his face as he turned the volume down a little and set his phone aside. “Emberly said I had to.” He lifted his hands as if to say there was nothing he could do about it. “Said they help everything.”

  “Emberly isn’t here. Turn it off.”

  He shrugged but didn’t reach for his phone. When he spoke, his amusement faded into genuine sorrow. “I’m sorry about Savannah. She . . . you know how we’ve talked to her?” At my hard nod, he said, “Hunter told her everything, hoping to help y’all so she would understand that night better. But that mixed with the fight the other day and you being behind Madison leaving—”

  “She knows that?” My chest seared with white-hot pain as I realized they’d told her everything.

  Madison’s side of everything.

  “Y
ou don’t want her to?”

  “If someone’s gonna tell her, I want it to be me,” I ground out. “Not Madison’s side of how all that shit went down.”

  “Are they different?”

  “Of course they are,” I snapped. Pushing back into the couch, I forced myself to take shuddering breaths before continuing. “Overall, no. They’re not. But the details? I haven’t heard Madison’s side, but I know damn well they’re different because Madison wasn’t fucking here. She doesn’t know that, after she left, I was the one who told Savannah that Hunter needed to know where Madison was. That he needed to go after her. Madison doesn’t know that, when Hunter drained his savings, I paid for his last flight out there. All so he could get her back, so he would bring her back. Madison can’t know about the dozens of calls I made to her because she ditched her number when she left. When Hunter couldn’t bring her back, I got desperate enough to grab the new number from Savannah’s phone, except Madison had already ditched that number too. She doesn’t know any of the bullshit Savannah and I went through—stuff Savannah still might not realize was because of my guilt over what happened.”

  Cayson waited until I was done, head moving in a slow, faint nod as he listened. “So, tell her.”

  A harsh breath burst from me, all pain and defeat. “She won’t even let me talk to her.”

  “Find a way.”

  My narrowed gaze cut to him before shifting to the floor.

  “When’s the last time you slept, man?”

  My shoulders shifted from the force of my muted laugh. “No idea.”

  “Maybe try doing that first,” he suggested as he pushed from the chair.

  “I should’ve known,” I said when he scooped up his phone. After a moment, I met his questioning stare. “About you . . . about Dad. I should’ve known.”

  His jaw tensed but he forced a shrug. “It is what it is.”

  “Had no idea how alike we were until you told us everything,” I went on, regret pooling in my gut as I remembered his words.

  “You and me?” he asked doubtfully, a hint of a laugh leaving him.

  A grunt of affirmation rumbled in my chest. “There were so many times I got arrested or in trouble at school, and I hadn’t done anything,” I said, flashes of the past rushing up to taunt me. “But it was easy to put the blame on me. The angry one. The violent one. And I’d just take it because . . .” I lifted a shoulder and met his hardened stare. “They already thought it about me anyway, and I was violent, right?”

  Cayson watched me, some unknown emotion streaking across his face before he gave a hesitant nod.

  “I never stopped to think maybe people were putting shit on you just because they could. Because you were always causing trouble. Because it was easy to pin stuff on us. And Dad . . . I didn’t know, but I should’ve. He was just always more patient with me than I deserved, so I thought he was doing the same with you when you got off the hook again and again.”

  “You’re not him,” Cayson said suddenly, then jerked his chin at me. “You asked Hunter that the other day . . . there’s your answer.”

  “You don’t know me anymore.”

  A scoff of a laugh left him as he took his seat in the chair again, setting his phone back down as the music continued playing. “Yeah, I’m aware. But I’ve talked to Sawyer a lot, and I did grow up with you. And I can see you now.”

  “I saw Dad nearly every day of my life, and I didn’t know that about him, Cays. I couldn’t see that he had the same darkness that courses through me.”

  “That’s it,” he said quickly. “Right there. Dad hid who he was and hid his anger, pretending to be someone else for our family and the entire town. But I think a part of him loved that angry side. He’d push me until he thought I was gonna fight him. And then he’d encourage it and get mad when I wouldn’t.” He gestured to me, his hand falling heavily to his legs. “I don’t think you know how to hide your anger even though Savannah said you’d been controlling it. Because even though it isn’t who you are, it’s a part of you, and you know that. Understand that. And from the look on your face the other day, I’m pretty damn sure you don’t love it. That you might even be afraid of it.”

  I had been afraid of it.

  It had controlled me for so long. Blocking out moments of my life while I took down everything in my path. It had threatened to destroy my marriage and my family for so long before it finally did.

  “You said you think we’re alike,” Cayson murmured, head bobbing quickly. “Then remember that I hid everything about who I really was from everyone, only letting them see the troublemaker. The asshole. Same goes for you. I think you hide who you really are and only let people see your anger. But I know Savannah sees who you really are. I know she always has because that girl has stood up for you forever, even when you didn’t deserve it. And I’d bet your kids get the real you. Just as I’d bet my life that you’d do anything to keep your anger away from them.”

  My chin wavered as I gave a hard nod.

  “That isn’t Dad,” he said simply.

  My fingers curled and relaxed. Forming fists over and over as the fear that had plagued me for months scraped up my throat and settled heavily on my tongue.

  Meeting Cayson’s confident stare, I asked, “But what if that changes?”

  * * *

  My eyelids slowly opened, feeling like they weighed a ton as I glanced around the living room of the condo. Lights still on from when I’d come in the night before, but that wasn’t why the place was so bright.

  I glanced at the windows where sunlight was filtering in from the partially opened curtains and tried to figure out how it could be morning when I’d just gotten back. When Cayson had just stopped by, and we’d been talking . . .

  Looking to the side at the thought, I saw my brother squished into the same chair he’d been in the night before. Legs hanging over one of the arms of the chair and completely passed out.

  Unfolding my tightly crossed arms, I sat up and rubbed at the back of my neck. Searching for my phone and wondering at what point in our conversation we’d fallen asleep. Grabbing my phone when I found it on the couch, I looked at the time and mumbled a curse.

  “Cayson,” I murmured as I pushed to my feet. Taking the few steps over to him, I smacked his arm. “Wake up.”

  His hands shot out, curling into fists like he was prepared for anything, even in sleep. “The hell?”

  “I gotta get to work.”

  When he saw me there, his eyes widened and he glanced around, trying to figure out where he was the same way I’d done. “Shit.”

  “Yeah. Go home.”

  Disbelief colored his expression as he slowly straightened from the position he’d been in. “Emberly was right. Freaking Dixie Chicks, man.”

  A scoff left me, my eyes rolling as I walked away. “Idiot.”

  “I enjoyed our heart-to-heart too,” he called out, all playful amusement.

  “Go home, Cayson.”

  “Hey.” At the change in his tone, I turned to face where he was standing a couple feet from the chair. “Be patient with her,” he said, repeating words he’d said to me the night before.

  “The longest I’ve ever gone without her was the summer her parents sent her away. Since we’ve been married?” My shoulders lifted in a hint of a shrug. “It’s been her and me, every night . . . until now. And she wants nothing to do with me.”

  Sympathy washed over his face, his head shaking as he took a step back. “I know that isn’t true, but maybe you should talk to Sawyer. He sees her almost every day.”

  Something twisted in my chest.

  Not that I was surprised. Sawyer had always been at our house, helping out with renovations or fixing whatever went wrong. Or just to be there. But knowing my wife was confiding in my youngest brother when she wouldn’t talk to me? It hurt.

  “Or maybe you should talk to Hunter since he’s been on her side of it.”

  My eyes narrowed in warning. “You know where I stand wit
h him.”

  “Maybe you should talk to Hunter,” he repeated firmly, brows lifting knowingly as he turned and walked out the door.

  Yeah, that wasn’t gonna happen.

  My gaze moved to where the small, rectangular box sat on the side counter for the umpteenth time since I’d started baking. My hand paused with the icing-covered spoon mid-air before I was able to push the box from my mind and focus on what I was doing: Drizzling icing over the Danish pastries for the guests that would be arriving throughout the day.

  A full bed and breakfast that weekend and a full bed and breakfast the weekend after.

  All while my world was crumbling.

  I can do this.

  I have this handled.

  I watched my oldest kids dash through the kitchen, laughs bouncing off the walls as Quinn tried to catch her younger brother. Warming my soul and making me confident that I could do this. Until my stare shifted to the side counter once again . . .

  A sound of frustration burst from me when I finally moved around the island so my back was to that counter. Helping me focus on the task at hand.

  At least for a little while.

  I somehow made it through dishes and cleaning the islands while the icing dried on the Danishes. But once they were in their display case and off to the side, next to my momma’s favorite lemon pound cake and the peach hand pies—because I had no control when I was an emotional wreck—I found myself standing at the counter I’d been struggling to avoid. Staring at the box like it could destroy me.

  I knew what was in there—a new phone. The box was familiar enough, and the picture on the outside told me as much. But it was that Beau had done this . . . without a word. Without a question as to what happened to my original one. He’d just taken care of it.

  When he’d shown up again the day before, it had been different. More painful. I’d desperately wanted to fall into that place beside him as I listened to the familiar sounds of his deep, gravelly voice mixing with the animated tones of our kids’ voices as they had conversations and played. As I’d watched him care for them the way he always had.

  But I’d stayed off to the side, letting them have that time together.