Page 108 of Enemy
I want to cry, scream, but I hold it in, just like I’ve learned.
I walk toward the house, dazed.
I have nothing.
The house is an ashen carcass, it’s blackened bones peeking out of the rubble, and flaky skin taken away by the wind. The fire’s gone, but since I live in the sticks, the fire service didn’t come before all this devastation could be stopped.
Road grabs my arm. “I’m sorry. Maybe we can still salvage something.”
I struggle to breathe. I realize I bit my cheek to not burst into tears when I taste the blood on my tongue. “M-my family photos,” I choke out, my vision blurry.
It’s as if the reality of my situation is only now hitting, and the punches don’t stop coming. I see Prophet going to talk to the fire crew.
“Breathe,” Road whispers, his palm massaging my back in wide circles. To my right, I see all the Vultures watching the carnage with somber expressions, but the whole world is behind a glass wall now. Road is the only one who can reach through it. He pulls me close, whispering words of comfort that don’t help in the slightest. Still, I’m happy he’s here, that I don’t need to face all this on my own.
My brain is screaming at me to make a joke, pretend in front of them all that it’s not a big deal, and that I can’t be broken. I’m so sick of having to be strong though when I feel as brittle as the charred wooden beams of what used to be my house.
“It’s not just the items,” I whisper. “This is how much they hate me.” Even my voice sounds alien to me now.
“That’s because they’re morons,” Road growls, cupping my face with both hands and pressing his forehead to mine. “They hate me too, so that’s good company.”
I know he’s trying his best to cheer me up, but my grief feels bottomless when I shudder in his arms. Until I saw my house burned to the ground, I don’t think I fully grasped that the life I knew has ended.
“Fuck… I need to sit down.” I take a deep breath of air carrying the scent of smoke, and Road doesn’t stop me when I sit right there, in the driveway.
“I’ll go inside and see if there’s anything we can grab, huh?” he asks, sinking to his haunches right in front of me. “Is that fine? Can I leave you for a moment?”
I nod as my brain whirs with all the things I had in that house that I’ll have to replace. Or will I? I don’t even live here anymore. My mind is such a mess. I slide my fingers into my hair in a useless attempt to try soothing my brain. It pulses inside my overheating skull, making me nauseated.
Road straddles my legs and pulls my face to his chest. “I’ll take care of things. I’m here.”
Footsteps come ever closer, and I flinch at the sight of motorcycle boots looming on the edge of my vision. Road stiffens against me. “Seriously? Now?”
Martin’s voice is raspy and full of anger. “I came here to be fucking nice! You don’t need to protect him from me!”
I nod, because maybe he’s a welcome distraction right now.
“We’ll get the bastards,” Martin says and extends a packet of cigarettes toward me. Which is a surprising peace offering I end up accepting. Road lights it for me, and Martin goes on. “The guys are asking if there’s anything in particular to look for.”
I take a long drag of smoke that is so different from the stench in the air. “Photos, documents, and these… if you find any of these ceramic chickens, put them to the side.”
Martin doesn’t question it, just nods and walks off.
I look into Road’s eyes. My life might be falling apart, but I’m not alone.
Chapter 41
Road
Clydespenttheafternoontalking to the cops, contacting his insurance provider, and circling the pile of rubble he used to call home. The fire service advised him against going inside just yet, but we did recover a couple of things from the other buildings on the property, which were less affected by the blaze.
Some of the guys were not comfortable talking to Clyde after what happened and tried to comfortme, but I told them all to either speak with my man or get lost, because how fucking ridiculous was that? He doesn’t bite, and a pat on the shoulder can go a long way on a day when his life collapsed further.
I did my best to be there for him without making it all about the fragile emotions deep in my chest, but some days are so fucked up that nothing can possibly make them feel bearable.
I will try it anyway.
By the time we arrive back at Vulture Hollow, the news has spread, and we find a covered plate of cookies on our doorstep, which is a nice touch, though a bit of sugar can’t mend a broken heart, not even when chocolate chips are involved.
