Page 14 of Missed Sunrise
Vinh’s chest shook with silent laughter as he raised—well, that wasn’t right. He didn’traisehis eyebrow at me; it was just always like that. A perfect natural arch that added a measure of levity to his serious demeanor. “You’re not wrong there.”
We watched the sunrise together, both of us remaining silent in thoughts and words in reverence for the moment.
The intermezzo from dawn to true sunrise morphed from blues and purples to reds and oranges.
Like fire spreading over the world.
Fire reflected in shards of glass.
Screams, regret, and guilt.
“Oh,” I breathed. “I remember now.”
Or,more accurately, Iletmyself remember what I’d been exorcising before I’d shifted from charcoal and pain to paintbrushes and reveling cats.
Vinh searched my face, his dark-brown eyes and hair the strongest physical similarity we shared. “Yeah?”
“I don’t think you’d want to see.” Fire, smoke, and sharp shards of glass knocked on the door of my senses again. “I’m quite sure I don’t want to look again either. Not today.”
He turned his questioning gaze from me and scowled at the back of the canvases as if he could—ironically—set them on fire with just a look. If anyone could, it’d be him. He’d protected me with only the force of that look before, sending my childhood bullies running.
“It’s helping?” he asked quietly after a long moment.
I shimmied my shoulders in a “kind of” gesture. “Creating the memories in a controlled way is the prescribed therapy. But looking at the results? I think that’d be more in line with punishment. And if I did that, Bree would know. And would probably yell at me again. I’m afraid my bowels couldn’t handle that kind of shock and awe.”
Vinh snorted and then smiled warmly in remembrance, and I was pleased to see the softness there. It was the perfect counterpart to the light around us that had turned to true morning the longer we spoke.
“Shall we go see if Princess is ready for the day?”
He tipped his head back and finished off his coffee before standing up, more than used to my nickname for Bree by now. He offered his hand in silent agreement to my question, and I took it, springing to my feet as a second wind filled my spirit.
A couple minutes later, we made our way out of the town square with my shorts zipped back into pants and my supplies split between us.
We kept the doomsday paintings and drawings turned from view, and as we crossed over a side street, Vinh casually asked, “Have you seen Cody yet?”
I stopped mid-stride, taking a moment to wrangle my wayward breaths before I replied, “I’ve yet to have the pleasure.”
Vinh stopped a few paces ahead of me and glanced back, cocking his head to the side, which sent his permanently messy hair over his brow.
Clearing my throat delicately, I continued our trek to the cottage, and he followed suit, mumbling something under his breath that I didn’t catch.
We made it to the corner of Marigold Lane, our street, and I had to force my breaths to continue pace again as Cody’s truck came into view where it was parked beside Vinh’s RAV4 in the driveway. My pace slowed as I wondered what we’d find when we got inside. Bree hadn’t mentioned much when we hung out at the gazebo yesterday, but I knew she’d picked him up from the port.
I hadn’t pried even though it’d been hard not to each time her brow would crease with worry or her mind trailed away mid-sentence.
Vinh produced a key and let us into the cottage, our home of four months that greeted us with silence. We paused at the threshold, but then I took the lead and made my way to my small bedroom to off-load my supplies. Vinh followed, and I showed him where to put his burden.
Once things were put away, Vinh murmured, “Gonna go find Bree,” and left.
A few moments later, the door to the back patio creaked open, and a dissonant chorus of voices punctuated the air.
“Do it, Cher.” That was Cody’s rumble, and it was followed by Bree’s rasp.
“I’m scared.”
“DO. IT.”
And then a low, electric hum.
