Page 120 of Flare

My phone buzzed and I glanced down, hoping my mother had given up trying to convince me to go stay with her. It had been all I could do to stop her driving straight over to mother me. I loved her to bits, but it was the last thing I needed. I managed a smile when I saw it was Beck.

Keep warm. It’s not gone forever. You can do this.

It’s not gone forever. You can do this.

A weight shifted in my chest because he was right, of course—ever the optimist. But in that moment, with firefighters traipsing through the ruin of my stock, the stench of smoke still layered in the air, and a slow tide of murky water making its way from my front door to the gutter, the enormity of what lay ahead almost buried me.

When I couldn’t deal with the devastation any longer, I set about studying the small group of firefighters and police left at the scene instead—listened to their conversations and acknowledged their sympathy and offers of assistance. And I thought over what Callum and I had discussed in our last session—about the power of speaking your truth, and how some wounds needed the light of day to heal, and about timing.

One of the firefighters caught my eye and wandered over. He explained that one of their crew would be staying overnight and that I should go home. When I told him my home was in the flat above the shop, he rested a sympathetic hand on my shoulder and said he was sorry.

I didn’t even flinch.

He left and returned with a crinkly space blanket, which he wrapped around my shoulders with a wink and a smile that needed no interpretation. Then he put another over the cat cage where Valentino growled at anyone who deigned to look at him sideways.

“That’s one fierce cat.” The man looked me over with an appreciative eye, and if I hadn’t had a certain frustrating English professor on my mind, I might’ve played along with the interest just for the distraction value alone.

But that wasn’t going to happen. Because there was nothing more certain in my head at that moment than I wanted Beckett Northcott, and only Beckett Northcott. All of him. All the time. In every way I could have him. When I’d recognised his sizeable frame in the midst of all the chaos outside Flare, my world had somehow settled a little on its wobbly axis, and the fire suddenly took second place to needing to be in those big, welcoming arms as soon as I could possibly get there.

The rest could wait.Wecan fix this.He thought I hadn’t heard. And although I knew I could fix this without Beck by my side, thewepart of his words sounded so fucking good. Surpriiiiise. I could almost see the jazz hands in my mind.

I looked up at the firefighter and smiled. “Valentino just knows what he wants,” I answered, catching the man’s eye. “And it’s not out here.”

The man grinned in understanding. “Well, if that changes, you know where to find me.”

I was left alone after that other than an occasional wave from Leon as he busied about his work, but mostly I got the time I needed to set things right in my head. It was hard letting people into that space. For seventeen years I’d kept the door locked. Kept control. Avoided asking for help. Done everything myself.

And just like that it hit me.

I’d restrained people in my life just like I did in my bed, and it was going to be equally hard to change those habits.

Well. Fuck. Me.

But if Flare was going to survive, ifIwas going to survive, to grow past what had happened, that had to change. With a show in a week, no stock, no store, and no home, I couldn’t dothison my own. Fierce wasn’t enough. Even Drogon had his brothers.No onedid it alone.

The disappointment in Beck’s eyes when I’d said I’d be staying with Hunter. The relief when he first saw me and how he’d buried his face in my neck, shuddering in his fears. Jack running to me like I really meant something to him. And the terrifying thought of the two boys running into the fire to save my cat. I looked up at the windows of my small but perfectly formed flat and thought about the wordhome.

Since the assault, I’d never put much stock in the idea of home, maybe because I lacked trust in the most important one, my body. I thought of Callum’s words.

“It’s hard to trust the world outside when you can’t trust the world inside your own skin. Sexual assault strips us of a home in our own bodies, the one place our thoughts and feelings should be safe, and it takes time to rebuild the foundation. It takes time to trust again.”

Time.

I sat with winter licking at my body and let a lifetime of memories wash over me. The good, the great, the pain, the betrayal, the loss, all of them, even the tangled fears from that single night that changed everything—a glimpse of the boy I’d been before, the shell of the man I’d become for a long time after. But that man was a survivor, and the boy wasn’t gone, he’d just been waiting.

The ideas circled my head and settled in my heart, flashes of colour on a canvas dusty with neglect.

Timing.

I called my mother and found her at Rainbow House with Greg and Drew. Of course she was. I smiled at the thought of her interfering ways.

I called Hunter and Kip and fielded a barrage of concern.

I found and hugged Leon who was bunking down in his studio for the night to keep an eye on things.

I checked with the police and fire crew that they didn’t need anything more from me and then finally, I grabbed the cat carrier and headed for my car.

Safely inside with the engine running, soaking up the warmth and calming my nerves, I made one last call. This one to Preston.

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