Write Me Home

by Crystal Walton

  write me

  Home

  Crystal Walton

  Impact Editions, LLC

  Chesapeake, VA

  Copyright © 2016 by Crystal Walton.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except for brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  Published by Impact Editions, LLC

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.

  Book Layout ©2013 BookDesignTemplates.com

  Cover Design © 2016 Victorine Lieske

  Author Photo by Charity Mack

  Write Me Home/Crystal Walton.

  ASIN: B01AR1SM7O

  Contents

  Vow

  Unearthed

  Adventure

  Small Towns

  Gamble

  Walking Flames

  Priceless

  Slammed

  Empty

  Embers

  Brooding

  Invincible

  Deflection

  Brave

  Alone

  Awe

  Escape

  Release

  Smolder

  Chances

  Undone

  Burned

  Pummeled

  Blank Pages

  Promises

  Home

  Free Download

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  prologue

  Vow

  Of all the places to spend one of the last weekends of his senior year, Ethan DeLuca had to be here. The stench alone was enough to drill resentment into his bones.

  If Izzy hadn’t begged Dad to let her come along on this trip, Ethan would be at home in the mountains instead of circling around the Bronx in their beat-up VW station wagon right now. But someone had to look out for her.

  A cabdriver passed them with his hand out the window, shouting something Ethan couldn’t hear over the rest of New York City’s nightlife. Biting back a response, he gripped the steering wheel and turned onto yet another side street. He might’ve been able to find his way to his uncle’s place if the blocks didn’t all look identical.

  A group of guys on the corner, passing something between them, stared him down until they faded out of his headlights.

  “You could stop and ask for directions, you know,” Isabella said.

  He cut a glance across the seats. From the local drug cartel? How ‘bout, no.

  The engine grumbled as he let off the clutch. “I’ve got this.”

  “Sure you do.” Arms crossed, she twisted in the raggedy bucket seat to face him. “We left Broadway like an hour ago. I mean, it’s cool with me. The more we get to see, the better.” She pointed at the steam rising from an approaching manhole. “Isn’t it the flyest?”

  Flyest? Trying not to laugh, Ethan inched the car between the garbage cans lining the narrow street. His ten-year-old sister—a city girl at heart, trapped in a country life. At least she’d finally gotten to see her first Broadway show. As much as he didn’t want to admit it, her enthusiasm was contagious.

  As usual.

  She folded the edge of her seatbelt back and forth. “Wish Mom could’ve come.”

  The disappointment in her voice weighed on him. If her vivacious love of life hadn’t shown Mom and Dad there was more to live for than work, nothing would.

  He reached across the console and rubbed the top of her hair. “Someone had to stay behind to keep an eye on Nonna.”

  She ducked out from under his hand, grabbed it with both of hers, and kept it close. Rather than say what they both knew, she simply held on while staring out the window.

  “Thanks for bringing me, Ethan.” She turned. “For real. It’s been, like, the best day ever.”

  Her untamable smile siphoned out every drop of his resentment for being here. Until he caught a whiff of an all-too-familiar smell. A white cloud seeped in as he tilted the vent toward his face. “Don’t tell me.” He turned the air off, but overheated coolant vapors kept pouring in.

  The car stalled out, power steering lost. Ethan muscled the wheel far enough to the right to veer the car alongside a brick building before it died completely.

  He cranked the ignition. “C’mon, baby. Don’t do this to me. Not here.”

  Isabella pulled the front of her shirt over her nose.

  As regularly as the stupid car overheated, they should’ve both been used to the odor. Then again, they didn’t usually have sewer fumes and overflowing trashcans joining the mix.

  Ethan stifled the words trekking up his throat and reached behind his seat for the jug of antifreeze they always stashed in the back. Against the force of his pull, the weightless container nearly hit the ceiling. “Are you kidding me?”

  “What?” Isabella swiped it from him, unscrewed the lid, and eyed inside it as though expecting to prove him wrong. The empty bottle sank to her lap.

  After traveling two and a half hours yesterday, it hadn’t crossed Dad’s mind to refill the spare coolant? He slammed his palm against the steering wheel, this time letting the words spew out.

  Izzy shoved him with the jug. “Hey, there are a few drops left in here. Don’t make me pour them over you, hothead.”

  Her slanted grin almost garnered one out of him. Wasn’t like it was the first time they’d been stuck figuring their way out of some mess. Or an adventure, as she called them. After as much time as they’d spent together, her optimistic outlook should’ve worn off on him by now.

  She tried to unclip her seatbelt buckle. Brow furrowed, she pushed and tugged. “Little help here.”

  He squelched a laugh at her expression while shooing her hands away to take over. Man, he had to use brute force to get the blasted thing open.

  Freed, she practically climbed into his seat.

  “What are you doing?”

  She hooked a thumb over her shoulder at the brick wall. “You barricaded me in.”

  He hadn’t exactly planned that, but now that she mentioned it . . . “For your own safety.” He waved her back into her own seat and reached for the door handle. “Stay here.”

  The door didn’t budge. Leaning his shoulder into the panel, he rammed it open. Piece of junk car. He swung it closed, turned his back to the wind tunneling between the buildings, and scanned the area. Nothing like breaking down in the middle of a shady alleyway.

  Yelling came from the far corner of the street. Through the haze of smoke, he caught enough to see a girl in a dress, waving her arms around at a guy. Probably a date gone bad. The dude turned and lit up a cigarette like he was blowing off whatever she was saying.

  Creep.

  She shoved him, and he grabbed her wrists. Her wince shot up the street, driving straight into Ethan’s chest. He had to ground his feet to keep from intervening. Izzy was his only priority. He released his balled-up fists. Getting into a fight with a stranger wasn’t going to get Izzy home safely.

  She poked her head out the window. “We should help her.”

  Of course she’d notice. “Not our business.”

  “What does that matter?” Eyes full of compassion blinked up at him.

  She’d always been valiant—naive, maybe, but brave.
He ruffled her hair again. “Easy there, Powerpuff Girl. We don’t need to get involved in other people’s drama right now.”

  Huffing, she slumped back in the seat.

  He rounded the front bumper and forced his attention away from the couple. The second he propped open the hood, a white cloud of hot steam oozed from the engine and blew into his face. He and Dad were definitely gonna have words about this tonight. As soon as he came up with a way to get them out of here.

  If they were back in the Catskills, he would’ve approached one of the apartments and asked to fill up the jug with water. But here? He valued his life too much to dare knocking on one of these rundown doors. No telling who’d answer.

  The arguing from down the way turned into a full-on shouting match. If the jerk ended up hitting that girl, so help him. . . .

  He left the hood up to block Izzy’s view, turned, and stumbled straight into someone. A hunched-over man dropped a metal can to the ground. Gasoline sprayed everywhere, dousing the bottom of Ethan’s jeans, along with most of the engine and the pavement alongside them.

  Wow. The night just couldn’t get any better. At least a gas station must be nearby.

  A grimace of stained and missing teeth glared at him. “You gonna pay for that, laddy?” he spouted off in a Scottish accent.

  Ahead, a Pit Bull chained to a link fence barked at them.

  Ethan wiped off his pant legs. “Excuse me?”

  “Me gas. I just filled ‘er up.” He waved toward a push mower on a tiny patch of grass beside the dog. “How am I supposed to mow?”

  He had to be joking. All the dog had to do was pee on that square of grass a total of three times, and the entire “lawn” would be dead anyway.

  Cupping his back with one hand, the old man bent over for the can.

  Ethan stopped him and picked it up instead. “I’ll tell ya what. If you watch my car while I run up to the station, I’ll replenish your gas. Deal?”

  He eyed the car. “No one’s gonna mess with that heap of junk, laddy.”

  Couldn’t argue with him, there. Still, it’d make him feel better.

  “Deal or not?”

  The man shifted his beret over his white hair as he surveyed the street. “All right, but make it quick. The Mrs. will be wondering where I am.”

  “Fair enough. Give me a minute.” He set the can beside the driver’s side and anchored his feet to open the door.

  Motioning Isabella back into her seat, he climbed in. “Listen, I need you to stay here while I run to the gas station.” He rolled up the window and stretched behind him to make sure the back doors were locked. With the front hood still up, hopefully most people wouldn’t notice her inside.

  “Why can’t I come with you?”

  “This isn’t the time or place to be parading down the streets. You’ll be safer here.” He leaned over and buckled her in. Now she definitely wasn’t going anywhere.

  “Ethan.”

  “For your own safety, remember?”

  Her face turned a shade of red he knew better than to comment on.

  “Ten minutes, tops. Promise.” He snagged her book bag from the back and set it in her lap. “I want you to put on your headphones, listen to the CD we just bought, and daydream about being on Broadway, okay?”

  Still tight-lipped, she glared his way as she unzipped her bag. “Fine. But the only thing I’m daydreaming about is how I’m gonna take you down when you get back.”

  He rolled his eyes but gave in to a smile. “You wish.”

  She swung her pack at him.

  Catching it in the gut, he laughed and leaned over to kiss her head. “Don’t open this door for anyone.”

  “Like I could even if I wanted to.”

  True. Maybe the old clunker still had a few perks.

  Outside, he gave the door an extra shove for good measure and turned toward the old man again. “Which way is the station?”

  He extended a shaky hand behind them. “At the end of the street, make a left. It’ll be on your right, just past the subway entrance.”

  “Got it.” Ethan grabbed the gas can from the ground and glanced up ahead. A third person had joined the couple’s argument. Great. A hostile love triangle. What was this, a soap opera? If Izzy kept her headphones on, maybe she wouldn’t notice. With any luck, she’d end up blocking out this whole night other than the show.

  He jogged down the road with the wind at his back. Other than a few wind chimes stirring, the latter half of the street had fallen still. Why wasn’t that as comforting as it should’ve been?

  Every strike against the pavement fueled his frustration with Dad. Staying with Uncle Tony in his dump-of-an-apartment might’ve cut it for most of his business trips, but he could’ve shelled out the cash for a hotel in a better part of town after agreeing to bring Izzy this time.

  Around the corner, the lighted Shell sign beamed like a halo. He ran the rest of the way, paid at the pump to fill the can, and whisked inside for the antifreeze.

  With both hands full now, he hustled back as fast as he could. Until he turned the corner.

  Flames consuming the end of the street sent a wall of thick smoke pummeling through him. The containers slipped from his grasp. He sprinted for the car. “Izzy!”

  The old man groped his way through the haze, wheezing. “Everything was fine a second ago. I . . . I don’t know what happened.”

  A young guy, looking over his shoulder, ran smack into Ethan. Had to be the punk from earlier. Ethan grabbed his shirt, staring him over. Blood seeped from a cut above a busted lip, probably from where the girl had socked him.

  The guy’s dark eyes latched on to his until an apartment door behind them opened. As soon as Ethan turned, the guy pushed away and darted down the street.

  Sparks shot off the engine. Ethan jumped backward with his arm shielding his eyes. His focus rebounded between the car and the guy fading from view. Out of time, he lunged toward the Scotsman instead. It didn’t matter how the fire had started. Only that he got them all out of there. He clutched the old man by the wrists and pulled him away from the scene. “Go call 911. Now.”

  He lifted his collar over his nose and forced his hands to steady long enough to get the right key into the lock. A smoky fog coated the windows, but enough of a view showed Isabella leaning into the door panel, probably passed out from the carbon monoxide. A loud pop sprayed the ground in another round of sparks.

  Ethan flinched but didn’t back off. The hot metal handle seared into his skin as he heaved. Yelling through the pain, he grounded his heels and pulled harder. Nothing.

  He banged his fist into the trim. “C’mon.”

  Windows in surrounding buildings lit up. A crowd grew along the street corner as approaching sirens blared.

  Ethan dashed around, scouring the road for something—anything—to help. He spotted a metal trashcan and bolted to the curb and back. “Hang on, Izzy.” He held his breath, prayed the glass wouldn’t hurt her, and rammed the can into the window.

  Shards splintered in every direction, nicking his face and arms. Smoke billowed from inside and burned his lungs. He chucked the can. Flames roared from the engine but didn’t stop him. He shimmied through the window against the jagged glass scraping across his torso until he reached Isabella. Adrenaline surging, he wrenched the seatbelt off her.

  “Over here,” a firefighter yelled.

  Ethan cradled Izzy in his arms and kicked the door with every ounce of strength he had left. The guy prying it open from the other side stumbled backward as it flew open on a busted hinge.

  Ethan sprang out of the car and carried Izzy far enough down the road to lay her out of harm’s way. Hands shaky, he turned her chin and hunched over to listen for breathing.

  A flurry of commotion soared around him. Lights flashing. Hoses unwinding. Voices clashing with sirens. But nothing eclipsed the piercing silence coming from Isabella’s nose. How long had she gone without air?

  The question quaked through his body.

/>   Time stalled. Overspray from the fire truck soaked into his scorched skin.

  He cupped the back of her head. “Iz? Don’t do this. You gotta fight for me.” Stares from bystanders bore into him, but no one moved. “Please. Somebody help her.”

  The same fireman from earlier wedged through the crowd and dropped to his knees. He discarded his helmet, removed his mask, and leaned an ear over Isabella’s mouth. With one hand laced over the other, he began chest compressions, stopping every few beats to transfer his breath to her.

  Ethan wiped his face on his shirtsleeve, leaving behind a stain of blood and soot.

  An ambulance pulled up, and two paramedics jogged to their side. The fireman scooted out of their way. “No pulse. Unresponsive,” he said as they took over administering CPR.

  One lodged a tube down her throat and attached a bag to the end. A third tried to help Ethan to his feet, but he pushed him back. “I’m fine.”

  “You need to be examined.”

  “I need to stay with my sister.”

  The EMT moved in front of him and blocked his view. “The best thing you can do for her right now is to get yourself treated.”

  Another team of paramedics rushed to the scene. Two EMTs steered him to the ambulance’s bumper and flashed lights in his eyes while taking his blood pressure. He peered around them.

  One of the others flagged the rest away from Isabella’s motionless body. “Clear.”

  A jolt struck the air and latched on to every nerve ending in Ethan’s body. “What’s happening? What are they doing?”

  “All they can.” A female EMT rested a hand on his forearm. Though soothing, her empathetic eyes weren’t enough to calm him. Nothing would be until he heard his sister breathe again.

  As EMTs and firefighters took control of the scene, he stayed trapped in the ambulance, vowing he’d never be this helpless again.

  Chapter one

  Unearthed

  Ten Years Later