Page 114 of Like A Moth To A Flame

“No,” he said simply. “He was breathing. I checked.”

“He could die!”

“He touched you!” His shout echoed through the enclosed cab and I jumped. “He’s lucky I didn’t kill him, but when he wakes up, he might wish I did.”

I watched him as he drove, the streetlights and shadows whipping past his window.

I could catch him off guard. I could reach over and snatch the mask off his head and I could know who he was, right here and right now.

But I didn’t.

Something inside of me wouldn’t let me move. Something in my brain held me captive more than he ever had, and I shook the thought away, turning to look out the window instead.

I sat that way until we pulled into the driveway, and he didn’t say a word. When he stopped beside Amelia’s quiet Escalade, my shaking fingers fell to the door handle and pulled it up. I stumbledout of the truck, hitting the ground with a yelp before I got to my shaking legs and walked up the front porch steps.

When I turned to look behind me, all I saw were the beaming headlights of the truck as he backed away, and I squinted against them until they retreated onto the gravel road and roared out of sight. Turning away, I shoved the front door open, my heart pounding and my head swimming with emotions.

He’d warned me. He warned me what would happen, but I did it anyway, and once again, it had gotten me nowhere.

We were no closer to finding out who he was, and that guy was hurt—maybe even dead—because of me.

I floated through the house on shaking legs, dropping my purse at the top of the stairs. I was numb as I stumbled down the hallway, my hand fumbling with the knob as I threw open my dad’s bedroom door. I collapsed onto the bed and reached over to his bedside table, picking up his radio. It was an old, black, dusty thing, and I wasn’t even sure it still worked.

What was I doing? I wasn’t even sure.

I flipped it on and held it in my lap, hunched forward as I waited.

What was I waiting for? Anything? Any sign of life?

I sat that way for so long that my eyelids began to sag, and I flopped back, laying across the bed and staring up at the ceiling as sleep threatened to take me. I could smell the scent of my dad’s old cologne, like peppermint and black pepper, and the dryer sheets my mom used to use.

I missed her.

God, I missed her.

I wonder what she would say to me right now.

Would she be disappointed? Would she hold me, telling me everything was okay like Amelia had?

My eyes were so heavy. I couldn’t keep them open.

Maybe I could just close them, just for a few minutes?

As soon as I drifted into darkness, the radio in my hands sparked to life.

“Hey, Carla?”

I jumped hard, the radio slipping from my hands and dropping with a soft thump to the carpeted floor. It was Sheriff Banner’s voice, and he sounded tired.

Maybe disappointed?

“Yeah?” Carla answered after a moment, her voice crackling.

“I’m bringin’ someone in. Leave the back door open for me, will ya?”

I could hear her sigh over the radio.

“Drunk?”

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