Chapter 29 #2
“Don’t tell me how I feel.” I’m on the verge of pouring out all those feelings at his feet, and I’m not sure I can handle the added burden of wounded pride on top of heartbreak.
And anyway, if the will was an insurance policy, then wasn’t he using me, too?
He knew the bar was mine and he had no claim to it.
I wave my hand in the direction of the old dirt road behind the bar.
“Let’s get your money so you can leave. It’s what you’re good at.
” That last part I mutter under my breath as I walk past him.
Clay doesn’t say a thing as he follows me.
The last time we walked down this road, we couldn’t keep our hands off each other.
This time, we walk on opposite ends of the grassy strip that runs down the middle.
The sunny cheerfulness of the morning, with birds calling from the trees and butterflies floating around, is jarring compared to the dark cloud enveloping us.
Clay follows me into the woods and up to the hidey hole without a word. When I crouch down in front of the hidden door, I finally risk glancing at him. There’s a mild curiosity on his face, but that’s about all.
I brush aside the foliage and enter the combo on the lock. The door swings open with the creak of old hinges, and I immediately get to work pulling out the bags of cash, dropping them onto the ground near Clay’s feet.
“Is that moonshine?” he asks, peering around me.
“What do you care?” I snap.
The curiosity vanishes from his face. “You’re right. I don’t. Forget I asked.”
I pull the last of the cash out and close the door, locking it. “Where is the will?”
He’s looking inside each bag, rifling through stacks of bills at random. Seemingly satisfied that I haven’t taken anything, he sets the bags down and pulls his phone from his pocket, dialing a number.
This is killing me. I’m furious, but all I want is to feel his body, hard and solid and warm, against mine. I want to nestle into his neck and breathe him into me. And I can’t. It’s over.
“Briar?” he asks into the phone. “Are you in the RV? Good. I need you to open the pantry and look on the underside of the lowest shelf—there’s a manila envelope taped to it.
” He pulls the phone away from his mouth, not bothering to cover it as he says to me, “She didn’t know it was there, so don’t take it out on her.
Yes,” he says in answer to something Briar said.
“I’m putting you on speaker. Tell her what it is. ”
“It’s Rita Gallo’s will,” Briar says, confused. There’s a pause while she skims the document. “It leaves the bar to Lou. Only to Lou. Clay? What’s going on?”
He flicks the phone off speaker and turns his back to me, his voice dropping. “I’m leaving.”
There’s a pause.
Briar says something, but I can’t make it out. Clay hesitates, then looks up at the sky through the leaves and sighs. “Fine. Leave the will with Gina or Benji. Louisa can pick it up whenever it suits her. Pack your stuff, I’ll be over soon.”
My stomach drops as reality finally sinks in. He’s really leaving. I’ll never see him again. Never hold him or fuck him or drive him to the absolute brink of losing his shit again.
Tears prick my eyes, and I squeeze them shut. I should go. Even if he wanted my help carrying the money to his car, there’s no way I’m going to do it. No, I should go back and start removing all that easily replaceable stuff he’s leaving behind.
And my cousin is still alone in the bar, probably making a bigger mess while he searches for a will that isn’t there.
I sniffle, an acrid scent tickling my nose.
That’s smoke. Not the clean smoke of a campfire, either. It’s the dirty, harsh smoke of fire burning through carpet and wall and—
I whirl around. There are too many trees between here and Gallo’s, but I know that smell.
“No.” It’s a whimper, a plea. But as I move back to the road, I can see black smoke billowing up through a gap in the trees.
My bar.
I run down the old road as fast as I can, knowing it’s not fast enough, barely slowing to get around the swing gate. Thick smoke is rising into the sky.
Travis is standing in the middle of the parking lot, watching intently as flames lick out the broken front windows.
I throw myself at him. “What did you do?”
Travis snaps to as he tries to free himself, but I’ve got one hand wrapped tight around the collar of his shirt, leaving my other hand free to pummel him. He blocks and ducks the best he can.
“Relax,” he shouts at me. “The bar is insured. You’ll be fine. I’m not going to prison over a couple of stupid papers.”
“Because you won’t go to prison for arson?” I scream back.
He goes still, his face draining of color as he stares at the bar in horror. “Oh, fuck.”
I shove him. Travis stumbles back and falls on his ass before scrambling to his feet and running to his car.
Fuck fuck fuck. My bar. The photos of Rita and Loretta and Marcella, the cornicello, those prayer candles…
It’s not too late. The fire is already too big to put out with a fire extinguisher, but I can get in and save something. My feet are already moving, taking me closer.
I’m nearly to the door when I’m swept off my feet. I scream and struggle, but it’s no use as Clay carries me away from the bar, ruining any chance I had at saving a piece of my family history.
He sets me on my feet near the highway, wrapping himself around me, pinning my arms to my sides. I stomp on his shoe, and he cries out, but doesn’t release me. I slam my head back, hoping to make contact with his nose, but he must have anticipated that because all I hit is his shoulder.
Someone driving down the highway stops, and Clay shouts at them to call the fire department. There’s another loud bang inside. Flames that had been flirting with the windows now consume them.
It’s over.
All the fight goes out of me. I slump back against Clay’s chest. “I fucking hate you.”
“At least you’re alive to hate me,” he retorts.
My bar burns.
Eventually, a fire truck arrives, but it’s too fucking late. Anything worth saving is gone.