Page 117 of Never Started
She doesn’t respond, just nods as she sits on the outdoor sofa again.
I hate leaving her like this, especially with so many questions lingering between us, but I know it’s for the best. This conversation clearly isn’t going anywhere right now, and it’s only adding more fuel to the fire, causing my anger to grow.
I can’t help but notice that even though Izzy’s intoxicated, she’s completely broken over this. The part of my heart that is and has always been reserved for her contracts with pain, seeing her torn like this.
“Take Izzy, go inside. Tell Ander and Kasten to meet me there!” I shout to Abbie, leaving no room for argument. “Fuck,” I mutter as soon as my feet hit the gravel driveway in a sprint, and my eyes are met with destruction. The barn is engulfed in flames.
There’s no saving it or the animals, but I’m sure going to try.
I run to my truck, wasting no time getting in and throwing it into drive.
“Pick up, pick up, PICK UP!” I chant the words on a plea as the phone continues to ring.
“Hey, boss–”
“Main barn, bring everyone. NOW!” I shout. The ranch hand begins to respond, but I hang up before I hear what he says, so I can call the fire department.
It takes a little over an hour, but it feels like forever until we finally have the fire contained and under control. There’s no sign of the dipshit that started the fire, not like I expected there to be.This was them. This was a fucking message, and quite frankly, I’m sick of it.
Abbie was in the stall with her horse when this happened.She could have gotten hurt.Without her opening all the stalls and setting the horses free, none of them would have survived. Her quick thinking saved them.
The Fire Marshall’s investigation came to a halt after I convinced Mark to say it was an accident, that the fire started because he fell asleep with a cigarette in his hand. I had to when I heard them say the word “arson.” With all the other shit that happened, it was easy to put two and two together. And when the authorities asked if we wanted to pursue it further, our answer was an immediate no. Mark is family—it’s why I asked him to take the blame. Not to mention, the last thing I need is the police snooping around and getting involved. That would only make matters worse.
Stepping away from my family and the men with the fire department, I approach my truck, open the door, and sit in the driver's seat. I need to get back to Izzy.
I walk into my parents' house to see all the women sitting on the couch, clearly shaken up, but no sign of the one I’m looking for.
Abbie speaks up first. “Jett, I’m so sorry. Are you–”
“Where is she?” I interrupt her, not giving a shit that I sound rude. Adrenaline is rushing through me, and I need to lay eyeson Izzy. I need to know she’s okay. Fuck, I need to know she won’t run from this. Not again. She needs to face it head-on.
Dessa clears her throat nervously, pulling my attention to her.
“Uhm...She’s pretty drunk. She demanded that we take her to your house. I know that’s probably not the best—”
“Thanks,” I respond, abruptly turning on my heel back out the door.
Hopping in my truck, heading toward my house on the back of the expansive property, I pick up my phone. It only has the chance to ring once before he answers.
“What the fuck was that?!” I shout through the receiver, not giving a flying fuck if he likes it or not. Probably not my brightest decision, but I’m beyond furious.
“That was a reminder, Jett,” he says casually, tone as calm as ever, as if he didn’t just have one of his men set my property up in flames.
“Of what!?” I scoff. “I agreed to pay you when I can—”
“A reminder to learn your fucking place and stay in it!” he shouts, just before ending the call.
I. Am. Fucked.
Parking my truck, I look at my house.She’s inside. Somewhere, I’ve always wanted her. Hell, I built it in hopes she’d come back to me one day. I could have stayed in one of the many cabins on the property, but this was made specifically for her. She’d always rant about how, if she lived out here, she’d have a white board and batten house with grey shutters and an expansive front porch. I already knew she loved the look of brick flooring, exposed wooden beams, and industrial-looking hardware on staircases.
Every detail that went into my home was because of her. Now, she’s here.
Letting out a sigh, I comb a hand through my hair, stepping out of my truck and making my way toward the front door.
Once inside, I instantly catch sight of her lying on the couch, freshly showered and wearing my clothes, now perfectly asleep as if she didn’t just shift my world on its axis with her confession.
I want to wake her, force her to talk, and tell me everything. Hell, maybe even pick a damn fight to ease my frustration with all the shit going on.
