Chapter Six
Nina
Unknown: Tick. Tock.
I shiver, staring at the text message. On the surface, it isn't threatening, but I can read between the lines. Whoever sent it wants me to know time is running out and they're running out of patience.
"Tell me about your brother," Emmett says suddenly.
I startle, dropping my phone as I whip my head around to look at him. "What? Why?" My heart pounds, anxiety shooting through me.
Did he get a look at the message? See something on my face?
"Because it's obvious he means a lot to you," he says, navigating through downtown Granite Hills on the way back to Silver Spoon Falls. "You raised him, right?"
I relax slightly, glancing down at my lap. He didn't see the message. He's just curious about my life.
God, trying to hide things is exhausting. I hate it.
"Yeah, I raised him." I lick my lips as I slip my phone into my pocket. "Our mom was diagnosed with breast cancer when he was six. She died not long after his seventh birthday."
"How old were you?"
"Fourteen."
"Jesus," Emmett rumbles. "You were just a kid yourself when you lost your mom. I'm sorry, Red."
"Me too." I glance out the window, watching trees blur by. "Nate remembers her a little, but not like I do. I'm the only parental figure he really knows. I mean, we had our dad, but he kind of fell apart after she died. He started spending a lot of time in bars. The sheriff at the time would call me to come pick him up before he started causing problems. A lot of nights, he'd end up in the drunk tank until I could get there to drive him home."
"How old were you?"
"Fifteen. When Dillon was elected, he helped me get my license to make sure I'd be able to take care of myself and Nate since my dad couldn't do it." I lean my head against the window. "He helped look out for us, made sure CPS didn't get involved and try to take us. I think he knew I was going to get us out of there as soon as I could. He was just trying to give me the chance to turn eighteen so I could do it."
"He's a good guy."
"Yeah, he is."
"You left when you were eighteen?"
I nod, my forehead bumping the window. "The day I turned eighteen," I murmur. "Some of the people in town helped me find a job and an apartment in Granite Hills. They had us moved out by the time Nate got home from school. We've lived half an hour from our father ever since, but we've only seen him a few times a year. Once I was given custody of Nate, I told him that he couldn't see him if he was drunk. He was always drunk."
"Is that what…?"
"Killed him?" I ask, glancing over at Emmett, who grimaces and then nods. I laugh without humor. There's nothing funny about the situation. But if I don't laugh, I think maybe I'll cry. "You'd think so, but no. It wasn't his liver. He had an undiagnosed heart condition. I'm sure all the alcohol didn't help, but he had a series of heart attacks. Maybe if he'd gone to the hospital for the first or the second one, they could have saved him, but he didn't." I sigh quietly, watching my breath fog the window before the sun immediately dries it up. "He died at the racetrack."
"Did he gamble often?"
"Only every chance he had. He used to own a trucking company. It wasn't massive, but it was successful. He gambled away everything he ever made."
"Jesus Christ," Emmett mutters. "Did he leave you guys with anything, baby?"
"The house and a small life insurance policy. I guess he cashed out his retirement plan at some point. We had enough to bury him."
Emmett mutters something under his breath. "Was the house insured?"
"Why?" I ask, antsy as hell, especially after that text. I don't want to talk about this, not right now, not with him. And yet…I'm seriously beginning to wonder if I have a choice.
My brother is already a criminal. If I keep my mouth shut and take the insurance money to pay off my dad's bookies, that makes me one, too. It makes Nate even more guilty than he already is.
How can I ever teach him right from wrong if I choose wrong just because it's easier? Just because it's safer? I've been asking myself the same question all morning, and I don't have an answer.
"I'm just curious, Red," Emmett says gently. "You don't have to tell me. I just wanted to make sure you weren't going to be hurting financially because someone burned down the house."
"Oh." Guilt washes through me in a massive flood. Of course he's asking because he's worried. He's been nothing but nice to me since the minute he found me in that bathroom. And more and more, I feel like I don't deserve it.
How the hell am I supposed to protect him and my brother when they're on opposite sides of this? To allow Emmett to do his job, I have to tell the truth and risk Nate going to jail. To protect Nate, I have to keep Emmett from doing his job. If I tell Emmett the truth, and he tries to help me protect Nate, he risks his job. It's an impossible situation.
"We don't have to talk about it," he murmurs.
Another flood of guilt roars through me. "There was an insurance policy, but the money isn't going to help financially."
"Why not?"
"It doesn't matter," I whisper. "It's just not."
We ride in silence for several long moments before he clears his throat.
"I have two dads," he says. "Coolest fucking dads on the planet, but the world is what it is and people still do and say horrible things to one another and claim it's what God would want. So, when I was a kid, someone in the neighborhood got tired of living next to two gay men with a kid and burned down our house."
"Oh my god," I whisper, staring at him in horror.
"We were all inside at the time," he murmurs. "We were able to get out safely, but we lost everything. And it took weeks before they caught the guy. I think I spent every fucking day terrified he'd come back."
"Emmett," I whisper, reaching for his hand.
"I decided I wanted to be an arson investigator shortly after." He squeezes my fingers, glancing over at me. "I wanted to be the guy who caught assholes like that. There are dangerous people in this world." He pauses for a moment. "I kind of like the thought of being the guy standing between you and them."
Crap. I don't think he believed me last night when I told him that I didn't know anything about the men lurking around. He suspects enough to think they're involved.
"I know you don't trust me. I know you've got secrets. But I'm not going to hurt you, baby," he continues quietly. "I'm trying to protect you. I just need you to help me do that."
I swallow hard, glancing down at our hands. "What if…" I lick my lips, my heart pounding. "What if you can't protect me?"
"What if I can?" he asks.
It's a dangerous question.
Part of me wants to believe he can. I want to put my trust in his hands, and let him help carry some of the weight for a while. But I can't do that…can I?
I ask myself the same damn question all the way to Silver Spoon Falls. By the time we pull up into my dad's old neighborhood, I smell the smoke lingering in the air and my stomach churns with anxiety.
"Is it still burning?" I ask, glancing over at Emmett.
"No. We dumped hundreds of thousands of gallons of water on it last night. You may see pockets of steam rising, but the fire is out. Occasionally, a fire will reignite, and we have to come back out and hit the hot spots," he explains. "But there isn't much left to ignite here."
"Oh." I sigh softly, trying to process that but I'm not really sure where to begin. Yesterday, the house was full of my dad's stuff. Last night, it was a blazing inferno. I guess now it's just a charred relic.
But I don't think I really understand exactly what that means until Emmett pulls his truck to a stop on the curb, and I get my first look at the house. Or what's left of it, anyway. My entire life, the two-story Victorian stood in the same spot, tall and proud. Now, steam and smoke mingle where the roof once was. Trees are visible where siding and windows stood just yesterday. The only thing left is a pile of steaming rubble and the foundation.
I stare out at it for a long time, not speaking. I'm not sure I have any words. It's just…sad. This is what's left of my childhood. This is what's left of our parents. Does Nate even comprehend the gravity of what he did? The seriousness? He was so young when we lived here, maybe he doesn't understand. But all my memories of my mom were in that house. Nate didn't just burn down an empty building. He burned down every memory we made inside, too.
I'm…mad about it. So damn mad.
"What are you thinking, Red?" Emmett ask quietly, reaching for my hand. His fingers close around mine, his grip strong, steady. It grounds me, gives me a little bit of strength.
"I don't know," I whisper. "I'm thinking that all of my memories just burned down. I'm thinking that it's sad that my dad's whole life has been reduced to this. And part of me feels horrible for being a tiny bit relieved that I don't have to keep coming here after work every day to try to sort through his belongings and figure out what to do with them."
"You aren't horrible." Emmett cups my cheek in his free hand, turning my face toward his. "Packing up a house after a loved one dies is mentally and emotionally draining. When you've spent most of your life estranged, it's even more so. And you may have made your memories in that house, but they don't live there, baby." He releases my hand, pressing his to my heart. "Those live right here. They didn't burn with the house. They'll stay right here."
I jerk my chin in a nod, taking a shaky breath. "You're right," I whisper. "I'm just feeling sorry for myself."
"You're allowed. Your childhood home was burned down." His gaze flickers across my face. "Were you able to save anything before the fire?"
I nod, glancing back out at the wreckage. "Yeah. Nate and I had already taken a few things we wanted to keep back to our place. We were planning to donate the rest or give it away."
He strokes my cheek. "I'm going to hop out and check on things, make sure nothing is smoldering. Do you want to come with me?"
I quickly shake my head. I've seen more than enough. "I'll just stay here. I mean, if that's okay."
"Yeah, baby." He grins. "That's fine with me. I'll be right back."
I watch in silence as he hops out, slamming his door. I lose sight of him as he circles to the back of the truck, but he reappears a few minutes later with a fire extinguisher in one gloved hand and some sort of pole in the other.
My eyes follow him as he ducks under the fire tape and then jogs carefully toward the rubble, planting his feet carefully. I'm not sure exactly what the pole is, but he jams it into the rubble here and there, shifting things around, searching for anything that's smoldering. He moves carefully, confidently, as if he's done this a thousand times before.
The man is…well, he's something. I don't think I've ever met anyone like him. He's so damn capable, so sweet. And so damn bossy too. There's something about the combination that fascinates me. If this were any other time, if it weren't impossible, I would have fallen at his feet already. But this isn't any other time. He deserves better than to get tangled up in my mess.
It's wrong how badly I want to tangle him up in it, how badly I want to confess everything and let him help me sort it out. But sooner or later, he's going to have to arrest my brother. And right now…I'm not entirely sure that's a bad thing. Staring at the house, seeing the extent of the destruction he caused, I'm not sure how I can justify this.
Maybe Nate is a scared kid who did something monumentally stupid, but actions have consequences. And actions like this…well, there have to be consequences, don't there? If everyone operated on fear, the whole world would be chaos.
A car coming up the street catches my attention. I glance at it, and my freaking blood freezes in my veins.
"No," I whisper, my hands clenched into fists as I catch sight of the driver—the same man who showed up at my house just days after my father's funeral. He said his name was Alex, but I'm not convinced he was telling the truth.
He glances in my direction, his cold, dark eyes locking with mine. "Tick tock," he mouths. It's a threat. A warning. A reminder that he wants what my father owes.
I whimper, slouching down in my seat.
How the hell am I supposed to get out of this?