Page 19 of Fire
Tobias allowed a smile to tug at his mouth. Jake deserved that smile and so much more. He had always believed in Tobias, in defiance of everything and all it had cost him. Tobias should try to believe, even just a little, in return.
But Jake's relentless faith still scared him. What would happen when he was disappointed?
Tobias called himself an idiot and other things he would never voice aloud in Jake’s hearing. How many times did Jake have to prove him wrong before Tobias would trust him? He'd already gone so far beyond what Tobias had ever expected.
He would try to trust Jake. He would try.
"Maybe you're right," he made himself say at last. He caught a flash of Jake's grin, and he added, “Don't get carried away. I hated calculus."
Jake chuckled, and Tobias felt his own shoulders relax a fraction.
* * *
Finally,a long way down a winding dirt road that ran between deep woods on either side—past multiple trees bearing NO TRESPASSING signs they ignored—a small dark cabin emerged.
Jake killed the engine fifty yards from the cabin steps. As they surveyed it, the front door slammed open and a woman strode out holding a shotgun, staring directly at them.
“Shit,” Jake muttered. “Stay here, Toby.”
Toby scoffed, undoing his seat belt and resting one hand on the door handle. He waited, equal parts expectant and defiant.
This may have been a different sort of hunt, but they had a standard operating procedure. There were times to stay hunkered down in the Eldorado, and times to burst out of the doors guns blazing. There were times that one Hawthorne really should go out first while the other one set the trap, or found the right amulet, or got the salt. Right here and right now, no matter how much Jake would have preferred Toby to stay here while the hostile witness before them held a firearm, he knew by the look in Toby’s eyes that was never going to happen.
Toby was coming too, no matter what Jake said. But he would wait for the nod and they would go together.
Jake fucking loved him. Even when he was being a brave, stubborn, badass idiot who was basically giving him the middle finger. Wincing internally, Jake gave the signal.
They opened their doors slowly and raised their empty hands as they stood.
“Get lost somewhere else,” the woman called to them. “And take your vacuum cleaner or religion to someone willing to waste money on junk.”
“Hey, we’re not selling anything, I swear,” Jake called. “We’re looking for Gina Wilde. My name’s Jake Hawthorne.” Toby’s head snapped to him. They hadn’t planned that. Well, maybe Jake was sick of the truth about Toby being the only thing under scrutiny, when Toby hated scrutiny more than almost anything. Maybe it was dumb, but he wanted to make some kind of offering or distraction whether it mattered or not.
The woman wasn’t impressed. “I don’t give a fuck if your name is Jesus Christ. In case you can’t read, those signs said no trespassing. Get out of here.”
Jake kept his hands up. “This’ll only take a minute. We’re looking for information about the Wrights. Peter and Beth Wright. The ASC was chasing them back in 1989 and they died in a car accident. Do you know anything about that?”
She hesitated. Then Toby said, “I’m Tobias Wright. Their son. Probably, I mean.”
* * *
The woman lowered the shotgun.In his peripheral vision, Tobias saw Jake snap his jaw shut.
He felt oddly detached, like he was speaking the lines expected from him and not something he really believed. It was hard to believe in anything about “parents” or “family.” But his being Peter and Beth’s son was where the evidence pointed.
The woman stared at him, and Tobias kept still under her scrutiny. Finally, she gestured with the gun towards some large wooden logs placed around a fire pit not far from her cabin. “Sit there.”
He crossed the yard with slow and deliberate steps, Jake following him. Only when he sat down on a log did he realize he was shaking, and it had nothing to do with fear of the armed stranger facing them. He drew in a shuddering breath and clasped his hands tightly.
Jake took a seat with a couple feet of space between them. Tobias didn’t look toward him, but he felt steadier with Jake’s solid presence within arm’s reach.
The woman dragged over a pink folding chair, laid her shotgun across her lap, and frowned at Tobias. Her long dark hair was streaked with gray, and she wore muddy jeans and a long-sleeve camouflage shirt.
“How do I know you’re who you say you are?” she asked.
“You don’t,” Tobias said simply. He shrugged, his shoulders moving in a jerk. “I barely know who I am. I don’t remember anyone in my family.”
“You died. I read about it. I saw photos of the car wreck.” Her eyes narrowed. “Where’ve you been?”
