Chapter 19
CHAPTER NINETEEN
JULIETTE
M y heart is pounding as I hear glass shatter and the fire roar louder. The smoke makes it impossible to breathe, much less see. What is going on?
The air smells of burning wood. Flakes of ash fall from the sky like fake snow. Tiny screams pierce my ears. I can hear them so clearly amidst the chaos, and I don’t understand why. But it feels familiar. Almost like déjà vu.
“PJ!” Dean yells as he jumps over the police barricade.
Fear hits me as I realize what he’s saying. I’m right on his heels, my body moving without me telling it to, as if instinct is driving me.
“Sir, you can’t come through here,” a police officer tells Dean.
He grabs Dean’s arm, pulling him to a stop. I duck around them and start looking for my son. If I wasn’t so scared right now, I’d think it was insane for me to even have one of those. But I can feel it in my chest.
“Juliette!” Warren yells.
I turn to look at him, seeing PJ in his arms. The two of them are sitting on the back of an ambulance, covered in smudges of soot. I don’t think—I just run toward them, faster than I’ve ever run toward anything in my life.
“Are you okay?” I ask, pulling PJ into my arms. I’m desperate to know.
“We’re fine,” Warren says. “I got us out in time.”
Tossing an arm around my big brother, I squeeze them both tighter than I should. Dean is right there next to us; I guess he finally got away from the officer. He starts to take PJ from me but stops short, as if he thought better of it.
Why would he do that if he’s PJ’s father? In the hospital, he told me I left him and Vegas, that I came to this country to have PJ. Does that mean Dean has no relationship with his child? Did I take that from him? It doesn’t make any sense. But then again, nothing does.
“What the hell happened?” Dean asks Warren.
There’s fury in his voice and on his face. I feel PJ tremble. It brings something out in me.
“You’re scaring him.”
“Warren? I’m not.”
“PJ,” I snap. “You’re scaring your son. Stop fucking yelling.”
“Swear jar,” the kid in my arms whispers.
“What?”
“You cussed,” he replies. “You’ve got to put a dollar in the swear jar.”
Oh God, I’m not one of those moms, am I? Curse words are what the entirety of my language is made up of. I highly doubt I could live without them.
“Think the swear jar is gone, buddy,” Warren says.
“Yeah, guess so.”
PJ sounds so defeated, so worn down, and I don’t like it. The last few days have been a lot on him. I’m not sure why since I can’t remember, but I can tell. He’s exhausted. Makes two of us. What the hell do I do?
“We’ll get a new one,” Dean replies. “Warren, what happened?”
He shrugs. “We were asleep. I woke up and it was already in the house. Thank God I had PJ sleep in my room. I wouldn’t have gotten to him in time, otherwise.”
At that thought, tears spring to my eyes. I’ve only known the kid for a day, but I already know that losing him would kill me.
“Did you leave a candle lit or something?” Dean asks.
Warren shoots him a look. “I’m not that stupid, Walsh. Maybe it was an electrical fire.”
“Or maybe someone started it.”
That suggestion makes my eyebrows raise. Who would want to burn this house down with my son in it?
“Arnie couldn’t have,” Warren says. “He’s the only person who would.”
“He got any friends or family?”
Warren shrugs. The two of them look at me, but I couldn’t even tell you what this ‘Arnie’ looks like. I watch them argue back and forth while I rub mindless circles on PJ’s back. His little body is curled into mine.
Something about that warms my heart. He feels safe with me, enough to take shelter. I wonder what our life is like. Are we best friends? Am I a good mother? Is he happy? What if the answer to all of those questions is no?
“We need to get out of the smoke,” my mom says, walking up.
PJ raises his little head. “Grandma!”
He slips out of my arms and into hers. I kind of want to snatch him back, but that would be weird, right? Probably not something most moms would do when their kids go off to see grandma.
A coldness seeps into my body. I shiver. Dean and Warren are still bickering over something I don’t even know anymore. But I don’t let that stop me from going to Dean and wrapping my arms around his waist. His spine goes ramrod straight, like he wasn’t expecting me to touch him. Or maybe he’s uncomfortable with me touching him in front of my family?
I don’t know. Should I let go? It’s weird because I don’t know what we are—we haven’t had that conversation yet. But we have a kid. So does it really matter? Because I feel like having a kid together is a pretty big commitment.
Dean finally relaxes against me, his strong arms banding around me, holding me like he’s never letting go. I pray he never does. I feel him drop a kiss to the top of my rowdy hair. My mom brought me a brush, thankfully, but it’s still a frizzy mess.
He rests his chin on my head and keeps talking to Warren. I stay perfectly still, just trying to soak in all the warmth I can. If everything I’ve heard is really true and Dean isn’t mine anymore, I don’t know when I’ll ever get the chance again.
Opening my eyes, I watch my brother. He’s staring back at me like I’ve got two heads or something.
“What?”
“It’s weird.”
“What’s weird?”
He gestures to the way Dean and I are holding each other. “Weird. It’s like you’re my sister, but you’re not my sister.”
“Warren,” my mother snaps. “Why do both of my boys act like total dickheads in serious situations?”
“Mom, you can’t call your kid a dickhead,” Warren retorts.
“The hell I can’t. I pushed you from my own vagina; I’m allowed to call you whatever I want when you’re behaving like a jerk.”
“Don’t say the word ‘vagina’.”
“Would you prefer me to say pussy instead?” she hisses.
“Oh my God,” all three of us say together.
“Mom, PJ is right there.”
She levels me with a look. “Trust me, kiddo. He’s heard worse from you.”
I knew the swear jar was a hopeless idea.
“Kane arranged for all of us to stay at a local hotel. We’ve got the penthouse suite. It’s the entire top floor. We’ll have more than enough room.”
My mom rushes everything out as if she’s desperate for us to stay with her when, in reality, we’re the desperate ones. Pretty sure, based on context, my house is the one burning down. It’s sad, honestly—I can’t remember it at all. I’m watching my entire life go up in flames, and I feel nothing. It’s a mindfuck.
“Sounds good,” Warren says. “Let’s go.”
His voice carries a sad note beneath it. At least one of us is feeling something for this place. It deserves that much.
“We still need to check you over,” one of the first responders says.
“Not necessary,” Warren says. “We’re fine.”
“The police will want to speak to you in a few moments.”
My mother interrupts and gives the woman all of her information plus the hotel details so they can reach us. Kane pulls up behind Dean’s truck as the woman is finally walking away.
“Everything is ready, Francine.”
“Thank you, Kane.” She looks down at PJ. “Want to ride in grandma’s car?”
“Can I?” he asks me.
“Uh, yeah. That’s fine.”
Even if it makes me a little sad. Will she know how to keep him safe? I mean, I know she raised five kids. But that’s my kid, and it’s just different.
I watch Kane hold the door open for the two of them before letting Dean help me into his passenger seat. Warren climbs in the back. Dean turns the ignition, reaching over to grab my hand. My eyes may be deceiving me, but I swear I see his chest puff out more when I clasp his hand back. He pulls us onto the road before giving me a smirk.
Dean places a small kiss on my hand before resting us on the console. My skin tingles where he kissed me. I’ve always wondered if that was because he’s my soulmate or if it’s like this with every guy. I haven’t dated much. Dean is my first real whatever the hell we are. There was this one guy. We made out sometimes. And on prom night, I let him feel me up until he finished in his pants, and it just kind of brought an end to things.
My head hurts too much to think about all this right now. I lean my head against the headrest and close my eyes. But my mind is refusing to calm down, and by the time it’s finally ready to, we’re at the hotel. Why does it always have to take me twenty minutes to sleep? And the parking garage is so dim. This would be a fantastic place for a nap.
Dean takes one look at me when he opens my door. “You need a nap.”
“A shower would be nice first,” I quip.
“Fine. Let’s get upstairs.”
Mom and PJ meet us by the front of the parking garage. Kane waits with them. His bald head reflects the low light around us. A bushy brown beard covers most of his face. He is staring at my mother with his gray-blue eyes. That’s the thing about Kane—he’s always looking at my mother. Probably what makes him such a good bodyguard for her.
“Juliette, nice to see you.”
I nod and stay quiet. Talking only makes my head throb more. Besides, explaining that I have zero idea what the hell he’s talking about would only complicate it.
PJ grabs my hand as we walk into the hotel lobby. I doubt I’ll ever get over that I have a kid. Hell, I may never feel ready to actually be a mother. But it’s a little late for me now. I’m already here.
Dean huddles close to PJ and me in the elevator. It feels like forever until it gets to our floor. I’m grateful that Kane came beforehand to set everything up, so at least getting into the suite isn’t bad.
My mom wasn’t kidding when she said the whole floor. The suite is huge. It’s practically an apartment. This is crazy. She was always over the top, but this is a lot. I wonder what happens if PJ or Dean break something? I could totally see that happening in this modern, clean-lined room. It’s got a warm hardwood floor, but it doesn’t give off the homey vibe like whoever built this place was hoping. It feels even more like a hotel because of it. Sans the floor, everything is beige or white. Where is the black? I need black.
“I’m going to give PJ a bath, honey,” my mother says before I can comment on the extravagant room. “Kane will help you and Dean find your room.”
“Room?” Dean asks.
“I thought you’d share.”
She winks at me. Winks. My mother winks at me like we’re best friends and talk about sex all the time. I’m dying of embarrassment. But I’m not against sharing a room with Dean, so I don’t bother to argue.
Ten minutes later, Dean and I are standing in a big room alone. There’s a king-size bed in the middle of the room. The door to the bathroom is opposite it. I wasn’t expecting the sudden silence. It puts me off-kilter a little bit.
“You okay?” Dean asks from his spot by the bedroom door.
He’s barely come into the room at all, which is annoying. Very annoying.
“I’m fine,” I reply. “Are you not okay with sharing a room?”
“Why wouldn’t I be?”
“You look kind of ready to run.”
Dean laughs. “You always had a big imagination.”
“I’m just calling it like I see it.”
But my scheme works. He comes closer into the room, closer to me. Dean keeps a perfectly straight face, almost like he’s wearing a mask. I can’t read him when he’s like that.
“What are you thinking?” I ask.
“What do you mean?”
Rolling my eyes, I look at him. “What else would I mean? What’s going through your head right this second?”
“You’re standing too close to the bed,” he croaks.
“Excuse me?”
“You’re standing too close to the bed. Makes me want to grab you and toss you onto it.”
Licking my lips, I can’t help but tempt the beast. “And then what?”
“You don’t know what I want to know, bluebird,” he replies, the green in his eyes dancing with lust. “I promise.”
“I’m pretty sure I do.”
He opens his mouth, but a shrieking sound interrupts him.
“What the fuck?”
The sound is coming from my stuff that the hospital sent home with me. Dean tears the bag open and dumps stuff out until he finds the source: a phone.
“Is this yours?”
I shrug. “No idea, dude.”
“Right. Okay. Answer it.”
“You answer it.”
“Fine.”
“Hello,” he says into the little device. “Diego?”
“Who is Diego?”
Dean flicks his eyes to me. “Uh, hold on, man.” He brings the phone down to his chest. “Go take a shower while I take this phone call.”
“Who is Diego?”
“Really not gonna let it go?”
I shake my head.
“I don’t know who he is to you. Not really. But I blew some property of his up.”
“Oh great. So he’s calling me for payment. Nice one.”
Dean rolls his eyes at me. “And to think I missed your fire.”
“You love me,” I say as a joke, but Dean doesn’t take it that way.
“More than you know. Now, go take a shower, Bluebird.”
A kaleidoscope of butterflies sets free in my stomach. Does he even realize what he just admitted? I’m not sure, but a girl can hope. Something prickles to life in the back of my mind, waving a red flag as if hope is a dangerous thing.