Fire

by McAdams, Molly

  “Piper brought it to me—” He stared off to the side before a grating laugh left him. “Piper brought it to me that way,” he repeated as if that explained everything.

  “Who the hell is Piper?”

  “My ex,” he stated dully. “She hated the idea of this place . . . apparently even just to visit for my brother’s wedding.” He lifted his hands in a way that said there was nothing he could do, but his expression dripped with remorse. “I didn’t know.”

  “Why would you?”

  It’s like he’d said: We’d had nothing to do with each other, and that was all on me for pushing him away.

  Putting my truck in gear, I glanced back at the house and shrugged. “I’d change it if I could.”

  “Yeah, I think we’d all change a lot of things if we could.” He stepped closer, his voice barely above the rumble of my truck. “But there’s no getting those years back. There’s no changing what happened. And as much as I wanted to hate y’all for what happened, I can’t. Because what if that had been me with someone else? What if it had been Savannah?”

  A muscle twitched in my jaw before I roughed over it with my palm and forced the thought from my mind.

  “None of us remembers that night, man, and Savannah knows that. She’s just struggling with what followed.” He rested his hand on my door, expression all worry mixed with encouragement. “Don’t let tonight be something else you can’t take back.”

  “She doesn’t wanna talk. She doesn’t want me there,” I said, reminding him of everything we’d talked about the other morning.

  He tapped his hand on the door a couple times before backing away. “She just hasn’t given y’all a chance to work through it yet. She will.”

  I offered him a nod before reversing and starting the short drive to my place, wishing I had an ounce of the confidence Hunter had. But I didn’t. I hadn’t even before the bullshit with the school’s vice principal happened.

  Now that our kids were on their way to Utah with Savannah’s parents, I was honestly terrified for what waited for me inside the walls of what had always been mine and Savannah’s haven.

  The word divorce had already been said so often, even by our daughter. I was afraid my wife was about to make it a reality.

  I sank deeper into the seat of my car and stared vacantly ahead at my parents’ house . . . my mom’s house, I guessed. The house I’d only moved out of a little over a month before. Just to have my world shatter beneath my feet.

  Again.

  I clenched my teeth tight against the fresh wave of pain and grief, letting my eyes close when the burning there became too much.

  After finally getting everything we’d ever dreamed of, after walking into the plantation house through the front door with the keys in hand, Savannah and I had gotten right to work.

  Planning out renovations and where to begin—the kitchen, Beau. Clearly. What our timeline would look like and how fast we thought we could get Blossom Bed and Breakfast officially up and running—do we have to wait for renovations to be completed? And—oh! Let’s throw a house-warming party!

  Crazy girl.

  My wife.

  I would’ve said yes to anything she’d asked for. Anything to keep that joy bursting from her. To keep that smile lighting up her face in a way I hadn’t seen in so long. To continue walking into whatever room she was in to find her dancing again.

  So, a week after we’d moved in, we had the party in the exact spot we’d had our wedding just two months before. Friends and family coming and going until the late hours of the night.

  But I’d known . . . I should’ve known.

  I’d felt it in the air. Ominous and thick and making me all kinds of anxious for terrible reasons.

  I had held tight to Savannah, stare darting around, looking for the threat as I’d forced myself to remain calm. To breathe . . . and found my dad. Looking the same as always and somehow different.

  In his stare. In the way he’d smiled or held his drink. I wasn’t sure.

  “You good, old man?” I’d asked after slipping away from Savannah.

  He had offered me a beer as he reached for another, but I’d shaken my head.

  “Great party.” He’d sighed contentedly, smiling as he did, but something about it was off. Like he was baring his teeth, and yet, he wasn’t.

  But I could feel it the same as I’d just felt Savannah against my side. It was crawling over my skin and seeping into my blood. My fingers were flexing in a horrible attempt to keep them from curling into fists. That familiar darkness I’d tried outrunning my entire life.

  “You good?” I’d repeated, voice lower, rougher.

  He’d glanced at me, brows raising. “Oh, you know. That brother of yours.” A tsk had left him as he’d shaken his head. “Can’t stop getting himself into trouble. Just got back from bailing him out of county again.”

  “Cayson?”

  “’Fraid it’s bad this time,” he’d said in way of confirming before sighing again. “Don’t know what I’m gonna do with that kid.”

  Early the next morning, Savannah’s parents had swung by again to let us know they were moving back to Utah. Mr. Riley had a great job opportunity waiting for him, and they wanted to help care for their parents who all had various health issues. They’d been planning the move for a while but had held off for our wedding and to not ruin our excitement over the plantation house.

  Despite our early history with them, it’d come as an unwelcome shock to me, and Savannah had been devastated.

  In the middle of trying to help them pack and comfort Savannah that evening, I’d gotten a call from my mom. Wondering if we’d seen or heard from Cayson because no one else had since our party. Dad had been grumbling in the background that Cayson was probably just hiding out because of what he’d done, but it wasn’t long after that they’d realized he was gone.

  Mom was a wreck. Dad? He just shut down. Wouldn’t talk to anyone about Cayson or what was going on. And then a few nights later, Mom drove out to the orchard when Dad didn’t come in or answer any of her calls.

  He’d had a stroke and was already gone.

  I lifted my phone from the cupholder of my Explorer and hit the name I’d been repeatedly calling for weeks, my anger and resentment growing with each ring.

  When Cayson’s voicemail picked up, I wanted to yell at him as I had so many other times on his voicemail. I wanted to hit him even though I’d promised Savannah, and I hadn’t taken a swing at anyone or anything in the months since that promise.

  “Fuck you, Cayson,” I breathed into the phone, my stare finding the house again. “Shoulda been you.”

  I got out of my car and slowly headed up to the house, wishing I was anywhere else. Wishing I was about to do anything else other than listen to my dad’s will being read.

  Sawyer was inside, near the front door and lingering by the stairs. Face pale and eyes shadowed with purple from sleepless nights. His head slowly turned to find me there on a delay. “I can’t be here,” he said sluggishly. “I gotta go.”

  “We have to be here,” I reminded him.

  “I can’t—I can’t.” His head shook quickly. “I need to be with her. I don’t have time for this,” he shouted.

  I grabbed the back of his neck and pulled him close, gripping him tight to me as his body wrenched with silent sobs. “Savannah went over to Leighton’s when I came here,” I said softly. “She’s gonna sit with her until you can go back over there. All right?”

  His head shook against my chest. “What am I gonna do? I can’t—I can’t lose her. I have to fix this. How do I fix her?” he cried, the words weak.

  The muscles in my jaw strained as I tried to hold it together for him.

  As I tried to be there for him when we all knew there was nothing to be done.

  The day of Dad’s funeral, Sawyer had gone to find out why his lifelong girlfriend hadn’t been there. Why she hadn’t really been anywhere lately. And had been slammed in the face with what she’d bee
n keeping from everyone behind that crazy mass of hair, a shit ton of clothes, and perfectly crafted lies.

  She’d been starving herself for longer than any of us knew, and she was long past the point of saving even though Sawyer was trying so damn hard to do just that. Her organs had already started failing. Each day, she slept longer. Each day, she became weaker.

  Watching Leighton die was destroying Sawyer—was wrecking all of us more than we already had been. Watching my youngest brother bear this weight, as if it were all his fault, was tearing me up inside because there was no convincing him otherwise.

  I glanced up at the sound of someone coming down the stairs and went still at the sight of Hunter as I had every time I’d seen him in the past weeks.

  Expression carefully blank, but there were a hell of a lot of questions and frustrations lingering behind his narrowed stare.

  As if he might know something.

  As if, during his time in the Army, he’d started hating me the way I’d always expected him to. Needed him to.

  Except I’d washed my hands of the shit that happened with Madison. I’d needed to in order to move on with my life with Savannah. Looking at Hunter’s accusatory stare had that guilt and fear clawing at my chest and ice freezing up my veins all over again.

  Had me restless.

  Had me worried about what I might do, and I couldn’t afford that type of worry. My life and my marriage were at stake.

  Once Hunter had passed us and was headed for the dining room, I released Sawyer and directed him to follow. “I’ll get Mom.”

  He didn’t respond, just started walking away, looking haunted and like he might collapse at any moment.

  With a heavy sigh, I turned for the kitchen, eyes widening as I took in the endless pots and pans and containers of food.

  “Mom,” I rumbled as my stare darted over everything to where she was frantically putting containers in a bag. “Mom, you need to stop cooking.”

  “I have to feed Leighton.” She pressed a hand to her chest. “That girl—that poor girl. What are we gonna do if she—” A strangled cry worked past her tightly pressed lips before she hurriedly started filling the bag again.

  I grabbed the next container from her, setting it out of her reach. “Mom, you need to slow down. You need to rest.” Wasn’t sure how she was standing, let alone cooking enough to feed all of Amber. She looked worse off than Sawyer.

  “I have to get out of here,” she said, words strained. “I can’t be—this house.” She waved her hands around as tears steadily fell. “I don’t wanna be here!”

  “Okay, I’ll get you out of here.”

  “He isn’t here,” she continued on as if I hadn’t spoken. “You aren’t here. And Cay—” Her jaw trembled violently before her head joined in. After a while, she looked at me, eyes endlessly sad. “Where did I go wrong?”

  “What?”

  “With Cayson. Where did I go wrong?”

  “He’s being a selfish asshole, Mom. That isn’t on you.”

  A look passed across her face before it was gone. But I saw enough to know she thought I was wrong . . . that there was something she wasn’t telling me.

  “Mom—”

  “I can’t be here anymore,” she said, each word emphasized with her hands trying to encompass the house.

  The property.

  “Okay,” I mumbled. “Want me to tell the lawyer we need to meet somewhere else?”

  A trembling breath burst from her as if she’d forgotten all about the will reading. After a few moments, she loosed a pained sigh and left her spot at the counter. Shoulders sagging and body seeming to curve in on itself a little more with each step.

  “Let’s get this over with and then I’ll get you out of here, yeah?”

  She nodded weakly as she grabbed my arm, clinging to me like she needed me to keep her standing.

  Once we were in the dining room, I sat her in a chair at the head of the table and took a seat beside her. Sparing a quick look at Sawyer’s wraithlike expression and Hunter’s hardened stare before nodding at the lawyer.

  “Let’s make this quick,” I murmured as I folded my arms over my chest.

  A near-silent snort left Hunter. “Have somewhere more important to be?”

  “Do you?” I shot back. “Oh, that’s right. Sorry, man, I forgot. Anything less than death isn’t important enough for you.”

  “The fuck are you talking about?” he ground out, directing all that anger on me before Sawyer snapped, “Shut up!”

  Sawyer’s chest rose and fell, the movements so big that it seemed to move his entire body. “The sooner we get this done, the sooner I get back to Leighton.”

  “This is our dad—”

  “I know,” Sawyer yelled, cutting Hunter off. “But right now, I’m grieving two people, and one of them is still alive. So, can y’all please shut the fuck up so we can finish this?”

  I lifted my hand enough to let the lawyer know he could begin before folding my hand over my chest again.

  He cleared his throat as he tapped a large envelope on the table, making sure he met each of us in the eye. “Again, I’m sorry for the loss you’ve endured, and I’m sorry we’re meeting under these circumstances. Not my favorite part of the job.” With another tap of the envelope, he opened it up and said, “Thankfully, this won’t take long.”

  Good.

  I wasn’t sure Sawyer would be able to make it through without losing his mind.

  I wasn’t sure how long Hunter and I could stay near each other without snapping again.

  And Mom . . . she didn’t need to be going through that shit.

  I listened as the lawyer read off a short note to Mom, apologizing if she was there, for leaving her first. Mom absolutely lost it, but the man continued, reading off that all money and physical possessions were to be left to Mom before turning to us. “To my three sons: Beau, Hunter—”

  “Four,” Hunter said just as I realized the slip.

  The lawyer glanced uncomfortably between the three of us and repeated, “To my three sons: Beau, Hunter, and Sawyer, I leave—”

  “The fuck,” I muttered as I glanced at Mom in question. Her cries had immediately silenced at the unexpected words, and she was staring straight ahead, looking floored. As if she couldn’t understand them either.

  A rasping laugh left me as I realized what Dad had done in those days of silence before his death. “Damn, Dad didn’t waste any time cutting Cayson out after he skipped town.”

  “Uh, no,” the lawyer said before clearing his throat again and shifting in his seat, still uncomfortable with where this was going. “Your father actually hadn’t changed his will since Sawyer here became a teenager.”

  “What does that mean?” Sawyer asked.

  “That Dad hadn’t changed anything in over five years,” Hunter said just as numbly.

  “What does it mean about Cayson, idiot,” I bit out.

  He sent me a cold glare before looking to Mom. The same question in his eyes that had just been swirling through me. “Mom?”

  When I looked her way, she was staring at the table. Looking like she was one more piece of news away from going into shock.

  Leaning toward her, I said, “We can finish this. You should go rest.”

  She didn’t leave or respond in any way, just continued staring at the table.

  I leaned back in my chair and released a sigh when Sawyer asked, “Why would Dad do that?”

  “Because he knew something,” I answered, remembering the look on Mom’s face in the kitchen.

  “Like what?”

  I glanced Hunter’s way at his question before shrugging. “I dunno.”

  “Then maybe it’s a mistake,” Sawyer said, tone a mixture of hope and uncertainty.

  Hunter and I tried to suppress identical, bitter laughs as the lawyer waved a finger through the air. “No mistakes here. Would you like me to continue?”

  “Please,” I responded even though continuing felt like walking into an
even bigger disaster than we were already in.

  Hunter leaned back in his chair as the lawyer went on about leaving it up to us to take care of our family and the town the way Dad had done, and jokingly whispered, “I bet Cays was in a gang.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Any gang out of Amber would be a joke.”

  “Stealing goats and shit,” he murmured.

  The corner of my mouth ticked up. “Idiot.”

  “As for the matter of the land—including everything on it: The house and barn, any remaining farm animals, the orchard, and the business ‘Dixon Farms,’” the lawyer continued, “I leave it all to the son who has always cared about them.”

  Sawyer and I looked at each other, confusion clouding both our expressions, but Hunter stared straight ahead, eyes wide.

  “I can’t,” I said when no one else spoke, a harsh laugh tumbling free. I lifted my hands in the air. “I fucking can’t. Savannah and I just moved into the plantation house, and I’m already drowning under everything we have to do to it. Not to mention, I start coaching at the high school next week.”

  “I’ll take it,” Sawyer said with a heavy-burdened shrug.

  “The fuck you will,” I snapped.

  “Absolutely not,” Mom said, finally speaking again.

  “And give up your life?” Hunter bit out. “Your full ride and your career in the NFL that’s just waiting for you? No, I’m taking it.”

  “You don’t live here,” I reminded him.

  His cold glare cut back to me. “I’m taking it.”

  “All that shit he just laid out,” I said through gritted teeth, “needs to be taken care of from someone here. Again, that can’t be you.”

  “All right.” Hunter’s head bobbed quickly. “Then let’s give it to Cayson—oh, wait.” He sat back in his chair, jaw working with his irritation. “I’m taking it.”

  Silence crept through the dining room for a few moments, thick and ready to explode before the lawyer said, “Okay then, and you are . . . Hunter, correct?”

  Hunter gave a jerk of his chin but didn’t say anything more.