34. Sage
THIRTY-FOUR
SAGE
Well, there it is.
I stand paralyzed in front of the mess, my shoes sinking down into the dirt. Everything is black. Like burnt toast, crumbled and ruined. The front of the trailer is burnt to nothing. I can look all the way to the back.
I swallow, forcing down the nausea that’s trying to empty my stomach, just adding to the mess. Rubble and trash are piled up outside. Yellow caution tape flaps around in the soft breeze. And all I can think is there it is.
A part of me wishes I hadn’t let Mac convince me to leave my shit in the truck. But the other part...wishes I had just fucking let Mac do this. Let him come deal with whatever the marshal wants. But I’m a stubborn son of a bitch, so here I am.
Maybe I’m just numb. Because looking at what’s left of the trailer, I feel…nothing. I just want to leave. I have this weird detachment from this whole situation.
Mac joins me in front of the trailer with a fractured breath. I can tell he’s trying to come off unaffected. I can tell he’s trying, but he doesn’t need to. I’m numb. But not numb enough to not love the feel of his hand slipping into mine.
“June’s coming out in a few,” he says dryly, eyes glued to our home. I’m a goddamn asshole. We should be going through this together, and I’m making this about me.
Like yesterday—God was that only yesterday?—I feel the need to say something. I squeeze his hand, drawing his eyes away from the trailer.
“Thanks, Mac.” He smiles, small and so tired.
He leans closer, lips slightly puckered, ready to kiss me.
Subconsciously, I’m leaning towards him, too.
But suddenly he’s pulling back, eyes looking around the park frantically.
There are a few people outside. Sitting around smoking cigarettes, getting ready for any work they have or watching their kids play.
Fuck that shit. If someone has had an issue with us, I’ll happily kick their ass. I have a lot of unspent emotions I’ll willingly unleash. That sounds pretty damn good, if you ask me.
With my other hand, I grab his chin. His eyes bug out, watching me.
“Fucking kiss me, asshole.” For a split second, he looks uncertain, conflicted.
“Scared?” I taunt, fingers pinching into his chin.
His eyes narrow. “Prove it.” The smile he gives me is pure sin.
Eyes dilated with lust. He claims my mouth, pulling me closer with his hand flat on my lower back.
The asshole steals every ounce of air in a punishing kiss.
Mac never half asses anything. And I’m dissolving into his kiss.
Since the hospital, he’s been so gentle. Like I might break or burn to ash with everything else. This isn’t like that. It’s passionate and harsh. His teeth nip at my bottom lip.
For a few seconds, I forget. The trailer behind us still smells like a bonfire, but it’s gone. A distant memory. Every sense is invaded by him.
When he pulls back and smiles, the rest of the world could fucking burn. He’s everything. We’re both wearing the same clothes as yesterday. Both grungy trash, but he’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever fucking seen.
“Hey, boys,” June calls, and I reluctantly look away. June walks over, cinching closed her fluffy, pink robe as she goes, “You ok, sweetheart? How’s your arm?”
With the mention of it, a dull throb works over the cut. Shit hurts like a bitch. I manage a weak smile, but it’s probably closer to a grimace.
“All good.” June smiles like she knows I’m lying but doesn’t press it. Instead, she looks to Mac.
The look she’s giving him sends out an army of red flags. All waving at me to abort. Run. Fucking evade. Whatever comes out of her mouth is gonna be a bomb that I don’t know how to stop from killing us all.
“Mac, sweetheart.” She grabs his hand and holds it between both of hers. I cringe at the amount of concern she’s giving him.
“I wanted to give you a heads up before you talk with the marshal.” She pauses, long and intense as we wait for her to get this over with.
“Ok…” Mac drawls.
“You know Mary-Kate next door? Well, she came to see me this morning. She said she told the marshal something…” Oh for the love of fuck, June, spit it out. A nervous sweat is starting to build, my heart hammering.
“She said she saw your mother last night. Apparently around 6:20, your mom went into y’all’s trailer.
Mary-Kate didn’t see her leave, you know how her boys are.
But soon after she saw Karen… the fire started.
” Everything stops. Air gets lodged in my lungs; I swear, even my heart pauses. Karen…burnt down my house?
“Wait…” Mac starts then stops. His mouth opens and closes three times before he finds the words he’s looking for.
“My mom…she set the fire?” He seems to have the same issue I’m having.
Where it makes so much sense, but at the same time, it won’t stick.
Karen openly hated me after what happened with Dave.
But she sticks to her lot. I’ve seen her a few times scowling at me but… I didn’t think she was capable of this.
When she screamed at me that morning on the way to Earl’s, that was the first time she said anything to me. The first time I’d seen her up close in years. Why now? Is it because Mac is back? Was this more of an attack against him than me?
“The marshal said the evidence didn’t point towards an accident. Something about how it started and spread wasn’t natural. He can explain all that to you.” Mac doesn’t move. He’s stupefied where he stands, gawking down at June.
Something snaps into place in my mind. All my shit being shoved into the back. Left to wait till later. I squeeze Mac’s hand, but he doesn’t move. Just keeps his eyes locked on June, but I don’t think he even sees her.
“My mom set my house on fire?” he states dryly. Deadpan, emotionless.
He barks out an abrupt laugh. I flinch back. It’s a strangled sound that’s ripped from his throat. June and I exchange glances. As if we are both asking, what the hell?
“My dad tries to kill me. My mom sets my fucking house on fire. Holy shit.” He laughs. It’s hard to hear. It’s not the laugh I’ve heard time and time again. It’s harsh, and cruel, and hopeless. It aches to listen to.
Life has always been shit. It has always hurt. But this, this fucking laugh hurts the most. It’s a man at his breaking point. It’s my best friend shattering in front of a home I hated.
I drop his hand, grabbing his face and forcing him to look at me. His laugh breaks off into a sob when his green eyes lock onto mine.
Holy fuck.
The light I never understood, the one that shined through his eyes no matter how many times Dave hurt him, no matter how many times his mother pushed him aside. This random light that would always shine back at me, it’s gone. Snuffed out.
“Fuck her. Do you hear me? Fuck her and fuck this trailer. It’s you and me, Mac. It always has been and always will be. I don’t give a fuck about the trailer.” In this moment, I don’t. I don’t care about that damn flamingo bag, or what’s inside it.
All I care about is Mac. All I care about is taking away the pain he feels. Reigniting that stolen light. I don’t know how. I’m a broken, angry mess, but fuck if I won’t try.
“Sage. What are we going to do? We’re homeless. We’re fucked-up trailer trash without a goddamn trailer. Why? Because my fucking mom burnt it to the ground.” I drop my forehead to his, our breath mixing between us. His hands latch onto my arms, fingers digging into the muscles on my forearms.
“We will figure that out,” I whisper more than I speak. A soft exhale of words.
“I might have an idea,” June says with hope in her voice. She spoke for the first time since she dropped the bomb that left the ground rocky. I had forgotten she was even there.
What is it about the women in my life? They are always the ones to blow up my foundation.
“Ha, what?” Mac asks. But he doesn’t pull back, his forehead still pressed firmly against mine. His eyes are closed, so I close mine.
I have no intention of moving until he does. I’ll let him lean on me, I’ll carry him, I’ll fucking die here if he needs me to.
“You boys talk to the marshal and let me worry about that.” With that, she’s leaving. I don’t see her go, but I hear her house slippers against the gravel.