Page 8 of Slow Burn
The disappointment dropped like a boulder in her stomach. The warning had been a courtesy, but she hadn’t expected it to go this direction. It shouldn’t have been surprising. Too many times, she’d experienced the letdown from those closest to her, and a part of her knew there had to be something there. John had been the perfect paragon of heroism. Of course he couldn’t stay on that pedestal she’d set him on.
She swallowed the urge to cry. “I’ll get out of y’all’s way,” she murmured as the Hausers continued to breathe life into the tense moment between them.
No one moved a muscle as she rushed through the entryway and back into the warmth of the afternoon.
four
“But anger is like fire. It burns it all clean.” - Maya Angelou
Heat tore through Cole every time he replayed the conversation they’d had in the living room the night before. The scene rolled through his mind like a movie put on a loop, and he couldn’t stop hearing the edge in Jocelyn’s voice—sharp and sure, not at all what he’d expected from her.
He’d been knocked sideways already just by her presence; she was the kind of woman that made a man’s throat go dry—curves, grace, a fire in her eyes that stirred him up.
But that warning? It hit like a punch he hadn’t seen coming.
His mama had gone quiet after Jocelyn left, lips pressed in a tight line as she sat beside his daddy. And Cole had stood by the window clenching his fists like that might keep him from breaking something. Her car was already gone, but he’d stared down the spot where it’d been like he could make her feel his anger.
“John,” Ellen had said, soft but steady. Not upset about Jocelyn’s insinuation. Not even surprised.
That had stung more than he liked.
He’d spun on his heel to face them, anger fanned by frustration and uncertainty.
Ellen was looking straight at his daddy, who hadn’t said a damn word. John’s eyes were locked on his hands folded between his knees, shoulders rounded by… shame.
“Pop?”
John lifted his head and let out a sigh like he’d been holding it for years. “I’m sorry, Cole.”
“Sorry for what?” Cole had demanded. Even now, his gut tightened, dread clawing up his throat remembering.
“I haven’t been straight with you about some things.”
His mama’s hand had run circles along his daddy’s back as she sat quiet and resigned. Which meant she’d known for a long time. Of course she had. Betrayal had pierced him then, and it drilled into him now. He hadn’t been ready for it.
Still wasn’t.
But the trees out here didn’t give a damn. They just stood tall and steady, and that steadiness kept him from snapping in two.
Still, the hammer felt too light in his hand as he squared up the studs, framing out the wall that’d stand between the kitchen and living room. It was all just wood and nails for now, but something sturdy and reliable would stand here one day. And right then, he needed sturdy and reliable.
Evenings or early mornings offered the only bearable times to be out working on the house, which was barely more than a slab of foundation at the moment. Good thing it wasn’t much more than concrete because his hands itched to tear something apart.
Hammering the shit out of this frame was a good second option.
When something rattled loose in him—anger, nerves, whatever—he ended up out here on this patch of land that’d beenin his mama’s family for generations. It belonged to him now, after his granddad had moved to an old folks’ home.
Right now, it was the perfect place. No cell signal, no distractions. Just quiet.
He was supposed to be up at the high school, hammering together booths and platforms for the festival. Could’ve offered the same busyness to soothe, but he didn’t have the patience for small-town chatter, not when everything in him felt half a step off. Not enough for most folks to notice, but he sure as hell did.
Problem was, it pissed him off how something like this could get under his skin that easy. Felt damn near dramatic, and that just made it worse.
He wanted to lay the blame on Jocelyn’s doorstep, but it was more than that.
Cole had never fully shaken the resentment toward his daddy’s job. It’d taken John from them more than it gave. While his daddy was off pulling shifts at the station, it was just him and his mama for days at a time.
Sure, what his daddy did was noble—important, even—but there were times it felt like he had a whole other family. A crew of men Cole had called uncles that he’d envied deep down. Those boys had gotten John for full days and nights, built something with him Cole could never touch.
