Page 176 of Beneath the Burn

Every release of every breath, he battled the overwhelming pull to follow her into death. So he clung to the news of Roy’s incarceration and the consummation that could bring.

Apparently, Roy hadn’t had enough time to buy off every local cop. When they hauled him from the crime scene, he was in a sobbing state of hysteria. He was so panic-stricken, his own thugs hadn’t been able to pull him away before the cops showed up. Not that Jay had reacted differently when he arrived at the hangar. The stench of soot and the grit of ash on his skin replaced his old nightmares with new ones.

He buried his face in the pillow as the torment exploded in his skull and erected a stabbing pressure behind his eyes. He choked, gasping for air.

The door creaked open, flinging a stripe of light over the bed. He mustered the strength to clench his jaw and abandon his sniveling.

Footsteps approached. The mattress shifted. “You haven’t left this room in a week, Jay.” Laz leaned over and shook the empty water bottle on the side table. “At least you’re hydrating.”

A paper bag rustled, and the aroma of fried food invaded his nose and turned his stomach.

“Not hungry.” His voice grated from disuse.

“Not asking.” Laz reached for the lamp and light flooded the room, searing Jay’s eyes. “Nathan called. If you’re going to identify…” His voice croaked, cleared. “You have to identify the remains by the end of the day.”

The room tilted, and the simmer in his gut burst through his chest. He bolted from the bed, lurched across the room and to the toilet. His heaving expelled wet air, his stomach empty. He was empty.

Laz pressed a glass of water into his hand and rubbed his back. “I’m so sorry, man. I…” He looked away, lips blanched. “I miss her, too. We all do.”

Jay wiped his face on his sleeve and moved to the bed, numb. Pulling the blanket to his chin, he curled up beneath it, the shroud of the darkness guiding him in. “I can’t do it.”

Blinking dully, Laz’s eyes were bloodshot, his spiky hair unwashed. “You don’t have to. Nathan already did it. He just thought…thought you’d need that.”

What he needed was to step through the fucking shadow sagging over him. It wasn’t bringing her back, wasn’t cleansing the pain of her death. Same thing he told himself the last time he retched the nothingness inside him. And the time before that. He could hear her in his head, screaming at him to get the fuck up.

“There’s something else.” Laz wandered to the window and drew back the curtain. “Roy Oxford has been cooperating with the questioning, but he’s got one hell of a legal team. There’s not enough to keep him detained.” He turned, lowered his voice. “They let him fly back to San Francisco this morning. He’s under court order to stay put until the investigation concludes.”

A fire ruptured from Jay’s chest and burned through his muscles. He tore off the blanket and shot to his feet. Fists clenching, he marched a circuit around the bed. What was he going to do? Fly to San Francisco and murder him? Then what? Go to prison?

He slammed a fist into the mattress. She didn’t surrender her life for him to serve the remainder of his behind bars. He pounded the bed again, over and over, until his fist slowed, his lungs whistled, and his heart broke all over again. What would she say if she were there, witnessing him crack so spectacularly?

She’d call him a big baby and tell him to buck up. He drew in a serrated breath, rubbing his eyes, missing her so damn much.

Desperate for something of hers he could touch, he paced to the bathroom, stripped his shirt, and turned his back to the mirror. Reaching over his shoulder, he rubbed his fingers over the ink, anchoring himself to the fire and steel, to the woman who bestowed it, to the life she gave him.

A gasp drew his attention to the doorway. A look of wonder rounded Laz’s face, the paper-wrapped hamburger forgotten in his lowering hand. “Wow.”

“Pretty great, isn’t it?”

“Better than great. And way better than double rainbows. The scars…”

“My aunt gave me the scars. Charlee gave me the reason to display them.”

Laz set the burger on the counter and reached a tentative hand over the ink. With Jay’s nod, he brushed fingers over the rippled skin, the air around his caress thrumming with electricity.

The sweet wretchedness of the touch splintered through Jay. A reminder he would never feel her hands again. He leaned into Laz’s fingers and pressed his fist against his mouth, thwarting the grief trying to break free.

Arms came around him and Laz pulled him close, holding him as the loneliness poured out.

When the last tear dripped from his chin, he leaned back, wiped his face and blew out a mirthless laugh. “Sorry you had to witness that.”

Laz shook his head, his eyes downcast. “You’re not the only one hurting.”

A miserable silence stretched between them. Jay’s own misery pummeled through his slumped body. “What do I do? How do I move through this?”

“Leave Mississippi. Either we finish the tour or we go home.”

Leaving meant leaving without Charlee. His heart hurt so badly he didn’t know how it continued to function at all.

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