3
ADAM
So much smoke… and heat. I rubbed at my eyes, but it only worsened the sting. Behind my ribs, my heart was pumping two times too fast. I didn't care, I needed to find her. "Angie!!" I yelled for what felt like the hundredth time. Why the hell wasn't she answering me?
An ear-splitting cracking sounded above my head a second before a beam came crashing to the ground. "Shit! Dammit, Angie, answer me!" Nothing but the popping sound of flames replied.
Where the fuck was she?
I opened my mouth to call for her again; no words came. In their place, a coughing fit that left my lungs as hot as the fire dancing around me. Clutching at my chest with one hand, I used my other arm to shield my eyes.
Still, I couldn't see.
"For shit's sake, Angie. Tell me where you are?" I begged hoarsely. Somewhere in the distance, I heard my name being called. It sounded like my friend, Griffin, but I couldn't be sure. Between the crackling fire and my heart's thundering, my hearing wasn't the best.
"Ang— "
A fierce heavy heat stole my breath as it smashed down on my left shoulder. The pain so severe I cried out in absolute agony. Frantically I grabbed at my chest, trying and failing to get air to my lungs.
"Angie," I whispered her name one last time before my already blurry vision distorted to nothing but cold blackness.
"Fuck!" Gasping, I jolted upright and dragged a shaky palm over my face.
"It was just a nightmare," I assured myself as I forced a steady breath from my lungs.
I swung my legs around and planted my feet on the ground.
The cold tiles a welcome reprieve from the memories so vivid, I could still feel the searing heat of them as if it had just happened.
Over my shoulder, I glanced at the soaked linens. Would there ever come a night where I didn't wake up in a cold sweat? Or was this the price I had to pay for failing? For not saving her?
Pushing to my feet, I welcomed the sting of self-loathing that washed over me.
I deserved it, and asking for respite was like giving a pardon to a murderer on death row.
With sharp, angry movements, I yanked the sheets from the bed and strode to the laundry room where I deposited them in the washer.
Without fail, that was what every night had looked like for the past three years. Peaceful slumbers were only afforded to those whose souls weren't blotched with big, black spots.
My still-shaking hand came up to trail along the slightly raised, too-smooth skin along the left side of my neck down to my shoulder. Monster. I felt like one, and now I looked like one too.
A tortured cry tore from my lungs and I smacked my palm against the wall with so much force, it should've hurt. But fortunately—or unfortunately—for me, the deep-rooted anger I felt wouldn't allow any other feeling to the surface.
And I was okay with that.
I made my way to the kitchen and pulled my old friend, Jack, closer.
Foregoing a tumbler, I screwed the cap off and swallowed down a decent amount of the amber liquid.
Even that did nothing to settle my nerves.
I didn't understand how you could feel so alone and yet be so crowded by your own thoughts that you felt suffocated.
Bottle in hand, I dragged my ass into the backyard. I didn't bother with lights; darkness suited me just fine. It was where I belonged.
I had no idea how the harmonious humming of the waves managed to break through the craziness inside my head, but I welcomed it nonetheless. The fifty-pound anvil on my chest eased up slightly, allowing me to take my first real breath since the past had pulled me from my sleep.
Tilting my head skyward, I closed my eyes and dragged another shot of salty air to my lungs. And then did it again and again until the chaos inside of me became less demanding. Less intrusive.
By the time I made my way to the couch in the tv room, my lids felt heavy, my limbs tired. My six-foot-six frame collapsing onto the semi-soft cushioning with zero grace. A long heavy sigh pushed past my lips as I curled onto my side, knees pulled to my chest.
There was only one thing left to do: close my eyes and wait for the nightmare to start all over again.
***
Slowly, I pried my eyes open and immediately let out a breath of relief when I realized my demons hadn't come back to haunt me. I maneuvered myself into a seated position, my body protesting furiously.
It didn't matter that I spent hours a day exercising in my garage; I still felt every one of my thirty-five years. Or maybe it was the shitty position and crappy couch that accounted for the gnawing pain in my lower back.
Pushing to my feet, I reached for the ceiling before twisting first to my right and then my left.
My backbone giving a satisfying crunch with each stretch.
The dull ache just above my tailbone showed no sign of going away, and I made a mental note to add another set of deadlifts to my workout routine later that day.
But first, coffee.
As I shuffled into the kitchen and began preparing my caffeine fix, my mind tried to focus on a million things at once.
The wood supply for the deck I was building was running low and I had to put in an order.
The guest bedroom and bathroom needed to be redone from the ground up.
The floorboards weren't in the best shape, and the color on the walls an awful shade somewhere between pumpkin and shit .
No one really understood why I'd bought this specific house.
Much like me, it wasn't in the best shape.
And honestly, I had no real reason other than it felt like something I needed to do.
An unmistakable pull to this town. Or maybe it was a sliver of hope that I'd find peace here, as undeserving as it may be.
My thoughts were still a jumbled mess when I grabbed milk from the fridge. As the door slowly closed, a little note stuck under a magnet caught my eye. With a wrinkle of my nose, I tugged it off and stared at the words I'd scribbled down a few days ago.
I needed to check in with my parents.
The move had been hard on them. Especially since they'd packed up their lives in Texas City to take care of me after the accident—even though I'd begged them not to. So when I told them I couldn't live in Sault Point anymore, their disappointment was understandable.
Right up until the day I left, they'd voiced their concerns over and over again until I promised to check in at least once a week and even went as far as to tell them they could drive down here unannounced if I didn't.
They jumped on it because being the bastard I was, I went for weeks without talking to anyone when I was still living in the same town as them. Therefor a once a week face to face—if you could call video calling that—was kind of a big deal.
My mind still stuck on my parents, I poured copious amounts of sugar and milk into my coffee and decided to give them a call as soon as I had enough caffeine in me to deal with their endless ways of asking me if I was okay .
I wasn't and I didn't think I ever would be, but they didn't need to know that.
Steaming mug in hand, I poked my head out of the glass door leading to my back yard to check if the coast was clear. I was in no mood to be approached by my neighbor again.
Hell, if I never had to make niceties with another person—except for my family—again, it would be too soon. Even before things went south, I hadn't been the most social person on the planet.
It became a lot worse after the accident.
Satisfied that there was no one, I slipped outside and sank into the Adirondack chair. Bright orange rays burst from the line where the ocean met the sky, with thin strips of yellow streaking through the blue.
It was beautiful.
If only that beauty had the ability to reach inside and touch the dead parts of me, maybe then—
Before the rest of the thought could fully form, a blur of gray and white came rushing toward me. "What the hell?" I couldn't stop my face from contorting even if I tried. Scratching at my legs had to be the ugliest creature I'd ever laid eyes on.
Its body had no coat while the top of its head was covered in long white strands of fur that looked like a stylist had been in there. "Good heavens, you're ugly."
Fugly dropped onto his or her butt and angled its long nose my way. "Shoo. Go away now!" Paying no mind to my not so nice request, Fugly's head simply tilted all the way to the left.
"Oh crap. I'm so sorry."
Just as it had a few days ago, every cell in my body stilled at the sound of her voice. I dropped my chin to my chest and cursed. That right there was what I'd wanted to avoid. I didn't want to make small talk with my neighbors.
Especially not with one who had a voice sweeter than honey.
"Uhm." She sounded hesitant. Good. "Would you mind handing him over? He's very nice and won't bite, I promise."
Nice or not, the woman had to be deluded if she thought I was touching that thing.
My gaze flicked to Fugly, who was still watching me.
"Go. Away," I muttered through clenched teeth.
Unfortunately, it didn't have the desired effect because the stupid mutt thought it was playtime.
Jumping onto its hind legs, Fugly's front paws scratched air.
A move that most people would find adorable.
I wasn't most people.
"Uh…yeah, hi." It might've been my imagination, but that sweet voice held the slightest tinge of annoyance. "I realize that you're offended by interaction of any kind, but Sheldon doesn't know that. I'd come over and get him myself, but I don't want to get shot for trespassing."
Head still bowed, my gaze shot to her. Big mistake.
If the sunrise I'd witnessed mere moments ago was beautiful, she was whatever trumped that.
She looked like she'd just come back from a run.
Her blonde hair twisted into a messy knot on top of her head.
Cheeks tinged a rosy color and her skin glistening with perspiration .
And still, I couldn't recall a recent time where I'd had the privilege of witnessing such beauty.
There was a fluttering inside my chest, one I hadn't felt in a long, long while. I held my breath trying to hold on to it, but it was gone a second later. Instantly my mood went to shit, and I jumped to my feet.
Without thinking it through, I stalked toward her, vaguely aware of Fugly happily trotting along behind me. By the time I stopped at the hip-high fence separating our properties, my body was vibrating with irritation.
My neighbor was standing on her side with her arms folded in front of her. The only sign that I intimidated her somewhat came in the form of her eyes—eyes the color of whiskey—widening.
She licked her lips and I couldn't help but follow the action.
When she tilted her chin upward and narrowed those pretty little eyes at me, I let my gaze roam over her face.
She was young, probably a lot younger than me, but there was something shining in her intense stare that called to some messed up part of me.
When her gaze softened, I realized, with a horrible shock, that I was facing her. My left side wasn't hidden, and she was staring right at my ugly. My stomach twisted, the knots working in furious circles until I could feel the bile rise in my throat.
I didn't want pity. Not from her or anyone else.
Bending down, I scooped up the mutt and shoved it at her. Her hand grazed mine as she tried to catch the dog and cradle it to her chest. I swore. "Take your damn rat and go away."