Collins

38. Collins

collins

A FEW HOURS EARLIER

All I see is red.

It follows me the entire drive back to my old stomping grounds.

A place I’ve tried not to return to, not like this.

Not when the memories come whether I want them to or not.

They live in every corner here, in every street and shadow, whispering reminders of my parents.

Not that I don’t want to remember them; I do. God, I do.

But Laken is home now. There, I get to choose when I let the past in. Like when I ride in the woods Dad and I used to visit, stand beneath those trees, and let the memories come gently.

Here, I don’t get that choice.

Here, they ambush me.

My heart pounds so hard it feels like it might split my ribs. I couldn’t say how fast I’m driving, only that it isn’t fast enough. Every second stretches thin, unbearable, as one name repeats in my mind like a drumbeat.

Lee.

That’s my destination.

I haven’t seen his wretched face in years. For all I know, he could be halfway across the world by now. For his sake, he better hope that’s true. Because if he’s here…

I don’t know what I’ll do. And that’s the most dangerous part.

I turn onto the first street of our old subdivision, and my lungs squeeze, air exiting in a sharp, painful rush.

Each breath shallow, my whole body trembles.

This place is an unwanted reminder of what used to be.

Steph, Lee, and their parents lived just a block over.

That’s where I’m headed. Grasping at the thin hope that someone, anyone, is still there and can tell me where to find him.

But the moment I round the corner, hope turns into something else entirely.

My chest seizes.

An old red pickup sits in the driveway.

No fucking way.

I’d know that truck anywhere. It’s the last thing I remember him driving all those years ago. The same chipped paint, the same rust along the edges. It hasn’t changed.

Which means…

He might not have either.

I pull in behind the old S10, barely stopped before I’m out of the truck. My feet move on their own, carrying me straight to the front door before my mind has time to produce rational thoughts. Before it can warn me, stop me, save me.

Too late now.

I stomp up the steps, each footfall heavier than the last, my heartbeat thundering louder with every rise. By the time I reach the porch, it’s all I can hear. My pulse, deep breaths…

Rage.

Raising a fist, I pound on the door.

Sharp, frantic barking that claws at my already frayed nerves erupts from the other side of the door. A woman’s voice cuts through, snapping at them to get back, to settle down. The handle rattles and the door creaks open.

And suddenly, I’m staring straight into the past. Just not the past I was expecting.

“Steph?”

She’s older; of course she is. Time has etched faint lines into her face, hardened most of the soft edges. Her eyes are different too. Sadder. Dimmer than I remember. But it’s still her. Unmistakably.

In her arms, she clutches a tiny Chihuahua that looks more like a rat than dog; its beady eyes locked on me like it has some sort of personal vendetta against me.

Steph slips the cigarette from her fingers to her lips, bending to set the dog down.

It scurries past me, heading into the yard, sniffing for a place to take a leak.

She straightens, plucks the cigarette from between her lips, and exhales a slow plume of smoke into the air above her before speaking.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” she drawls, voice rougher than I remember, worn down by time or something heavier. “As I live and breathe. If it isn’t Collins Combs himself. What in the world brings you back here?”

“Where’s your brother?” The words come out sharp, clipped. I don’t have the patience for this. “I’m not here for small talk. I just need to know where that piece of shit is.”

“Lee?” she repeats, and there’s something in her tone. Something I can’t quite place. Not surprise. Not quite.

“Yes. Lee,” I snap. “Where the hell is he? We’ve got unfinished business.”

She studies me for a moment, like she’s trying to decide something, then lets out a quiet, almost disbelieving breath. “You really have been gone a long time, haven’t you?”

A flicker of confusion cuts through my anger. “What are you talking about, Steph? I don’t have time for this. I need to see him. Does he still drive that old piece of shit? Is he here?”

I try to look past her, into the house, searching for any sign of him. But her hand shoots out, pressing flat against my chest, stopping me cold.

And I don’t know why, but the contact sets something off inside me. Irritation spikes, sharp and immediate. I jerk back with a snarl, shaking her off like her touch burns.

Her expression shifts, just slightly.

“Lee’s dead, Collins.”

Everything stops.

The world spins. Something swirls around inside, leaving me dizzy. I can’t catch up. The anger, the drive, the focus that got me here. It all crashes into something else, something tangled and unsteady.

Relief.

Or maybe it’s disappointment.

Hell, maybe it’s both.

And I don’t know which one hits harder.

Steph watches me carefully, like she’s bracing for something. Then she steps back, pulling the door open wider.

“Why don’t you come inside,” she says, her voice quieter now, almost tired. “I’ll catch you up on everything you’ve missed over the past ten years.”

She steps back, and I cross the threshold, the little asshole of a dog brushing past my leg as I do. It pauses just long enough to shoot me another look before trotting off.

I don’t know why the thing gets under my skin. I love dogs.

Just…not this one.

The house hits me the second I’m inside.

It’s not how I remember it. I’d been here a handful of times growing up—back when everything felt lighter. Warmer. Now there’s a heaviness to it. A stale, lingering stillness that clings to its surroundings.

Steph disappears into the kitchen, and I follow, slower this time, my eyes catching on details that feel both familiar and wrong all at once.

She pulls out an old wooden barstool from the counter, the legs scraping softly against the floor. A blue-and-white frilly cushion is tied to the seat, worn and faded. She nods toward the stool beside it, a silent invitation.

I don’t take it.

Instead, I step up to the counter, bracing my hands against the surface. “I don’t need to sit,” I say, my voice tighter than I intend. “Can you just tell me what I’m missing? Your brother is dead?”

Exhaling slowly, she reaches into her pocket and pulls out a cigarette case. The old-fashioned kind, leather with a metal clasp that clicks when it closes. My chest tightens at the sight of it. My grandma Debbie had one just like that. Used to carry it everywhere.

Steph flips it open, taps out a cigarette, and lights it without a word, despite the fact she just finished one. The flame flickers briefly between us before she inhales, deep and steady.

Ash falls onto the counter as she lowers her hand, like she doesn’t even notice she’s doing it.

Or doesn’t care.

A while later, I’m back in my truck. My brothers trail close behind. Campbell in his truck, Crandall on his bike, the three of us pulling away from the place we once called home.

They found me.

Showed up like they were gearing up for war, shoulders squared, ready for whatever they thought they’d walk into. And in a way…they weren’t wrong.

Above me, the clouds begin to part, sunlight breaking through in soft, golden streaks. It spills through the windshield, warm against my face, and for the first time since my eyes opened this morning, my chest doesn’t feel like it’s caving in on itself.

Steph told me everything.

And with every word, the anger that carried me here slowly unraveled into something lighter. Relief, mostly, but not entirely. There’s still something lingering beneath it, something I can’t quite name.

Because I wanted him to pay.

And death…death feels too easy.

Apparently, he spiraled.

Drugs. Bad ones.

Lost himself somewhere along the way, then a few years ago, he ended it himself. There’s no satisfaction in that. No justice. Just…an ending.

Still, at least no one else will ever have to suffer at his hands.

Most importantly, Johnnie doesn’t have to carry that fear anymore. The man who hurt her doesn’t exist in this world now.

That should be enough.

But there’s a restless edge under my skin I can’t shake.

He got off too fucking easy.

If I’d only known sooner…

The tires hum against the interstate, steady and hypnotic, but my mind refuses to settle. It spins, circling back, picking at something just out of reach. Suddenly, it hits me.

Something’s missing.

Something doesn’t add up.

Johnnie’s voice echoes in my head, the guilt in it, the fear. The way she looked at me like I might despise her. Like I might not forgive her.

Why?

Why would she carry that…if this is all there is?

My grip tightens on the wheel.

There has to be more.

By the time I pull into the driveway, the sun is dipping low, painting everything in soft gold. My brothers follow close behind as we make our way up the long stretch of gravel, the house coming into view.

The garage door rises, and I pull inside.

And then I see her.

My beautiful girl.

Standing there, waiting for me, worry written all over her face, eyes searching me the second I step out of the truck.

Everything in me softens.

I shut the door and move toward her without hesitation, a small, tired smile pulling at my lips. There’s too much inside me to sort through, too many emotions tangled together. The second I reach her though, none of it matters.

I pull her into me.

Tight.

My face presses into her hair as I breathe her in, the comforting scent of her easing me instantly. She melts against me, and for a second, the world feels quiet.

Over her shoulder, I catch sight of Lou lingering nearby, watching carefully.

“What happened?” Johnnie’s voice is strained, breathless. “God, Collins, I’ve been a nervous wreck.”

I keep her close, my hand moving slowly up and down her back, trying to soothe the panic I know I caused. The last thing I ever wanted was to put that fear in her.

Reluctantly, I ease back, just enough to look at her.

“Everything’s okay,” I say. “I’m sorry I scared you. It’s all okay now, though.”

My fingers lift, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear, needing the contact. Needing her.

“Did you see Lee?”

“No,” I say softly. “I didn’t.”

Something flickers across her face, relief and confusion tangled together.

“Tell me what happened,” she presses, her voice trembling. “Where did you go? What were you doing? Jesus, Collins…I thought you were going to kill him.”

A humorless smirk tugs at my mouth.

She’s not wrong.

A quiet breath leaves me as I lean back against the truck, my eyes never leaving her. “That was definitely a thought…”

I shake my head slightly.

“But it’s kind of hard to do…” I pause, watching the shift in her expression, the way her breath catches. “When he’s already dead.”

Her eyes widen.

Behind her, I hear Lou gasp.

Johnnie’s lips part, but no words come out at first. She looks around like she’s trying to steady herself, like the ground beneath her just shifted.

“Lee is dead?” she whispers.

Tears fill her eyes, but they’re different now. Not as heavy. Not as hopeless. There’s something else there.

Relief. I know the feeling.

“What happened?” she asks, voice breaking. “Tell me everything.”

“I will,” I say gently, stepping forward again, my hand finding her arm. “I’ll tell you everything. But right now…the only thing that matters is that he’s gone. He’s not in our world anymore.”

Thank god.

That’s all it takes.

She breaks.

A sob tears out of her as she throws herself into me again, and I catch her instantly, wrapping her up, holding her as tight as I can. My lips press to her hair, her temple, her forehead. Anywhere I can reach.

“It’s going to be okay, baby,” I whisper gently into her skin. “I’ve got you. It’s going to be okay.”

Her hands come up, gripping my head, fingers threading into my hair as she buries her face in my chest, like she’s trying to anchor herself there.

I let her.

Give her whatever she needs.

After a moment, I shift slightly, my hand moving up and down her back in slow, steady strokes. “Everything’s going to be all right,” I say softly. “But I think…it’s time you finish your story.”

She stills in my arms.

Just for a second.

I pull back enough to look at her, my hand still resting against her, hoping she can see it—feel it.

I’m not angry.

I’m here.

Behind her, I notice movement. Lou is stepping closer, Crandall just over her shoulder. I hadn’t even registered when my brothers came up beside us.

Lou’s voice is gentle as she reaches out, running a hand down Johnnie’s hair. “I think we should give you two some space,” she says quietly. “Call me if you need anything.”

Johnnie doesn’t respond, barely moves, as Lou presses a soft kiss to the back of her head before stepping away.

One by one, my brothers clasp my shoulder as they pass, silent support in the gesture before heading back outside. Engines start up in the distance. Crandall’s bike is louder than the rest, but it all fades into the background.

My focus is solely on her.

“Come on,” I say quietly, taking her hand in mine. “Let’s go inside. We need to talk. I know there’s more.”

I guide her into the house, through the laundry room and toward the kitchen. And just as we cross to the living room, her voice barely breaks the silence.

“There is.”