CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT #2
Michael stares back at James. Neither says a word, but it’s like there’s a whole conversation happening in the silence. A quiet standoff. Or maybe respect. It’s hard to tell. You can feel it, you just can’t hear it.
James is three years older than Michael, but that’s never really mattered. They’ve always respected each other. Made decisions together. Even when James takes the lead, Michael never pushes back. They’re always in sync.
Finally, Michael sighs and nods. “Okay, I promise.”
Ryan exhales as the tension finally breaks. He pushes up his sleeves and grabs the deck of cards.
“All right, let’s play then,” he says, trying to lighten the mood.
But James isn’t listening. He’s staring at Ryan’s arm as he shuffles the cards, and something about the way his eyes narrow makes my stomach flip.
He blinks a couple of times, looking unsettled. “Ryan, how’d you get those burn marks on your forearm?”
I glance at Ryan’s arm too, and for the first time, I actually see the scars. I’ve spent the whole summer staring at his tattoos, but somehow I never noticed those burns before.
Ryan goes still, the cards unmoving in his hands, his whole body going rigid.
“Tyler,” he says quietly.
“Tyler did this to you? Why?”
“Remember when I told you I used to fix cars for Aaron? He followed Tyler’s rules. One day, Tyler came by to grab a few cars, and one of the batteries didn’t work. He said I broke one of his rules… and this was my punishment.”
His fingers move over the scars, tracing each burn one by one until he reaches the last.
“What made you ask that?”
James rolls up his sleeve and holds out his arm, revealing five matching cigarette burns. “Because they’re the same as mine.”
Ryan stares, stunned. “How’s that even possible? You’ve never met Tyler.”
Michael sets his cards down, his expression shifting as he leans forward. He studies their arms, eyes darting between the scars. First Ryan’s, then James’s. Same pattern. Same number. Same spot. Identical, like a mirror image.
“James, are you absolutely sure Kevin—” Michael hesitates, “the guy who did this to you—is dead?”
James blinks again, his jaw clenching, his whole body tense.
“Of course he’s dead. I shot him twice in the head.”
“Dinner’s ready, everyone!” Lorelai calls out, catching everyone by surprise.
James shakes his head. “It’s just a coincidence. Let’s eat.”
But as he looks at me, I know it’s not that simple. There’s a flicker of worry on his face, like ghosts from his past just showed up and won’t let go.
He doesn’t say another word, just walks over to me and takes my hand. I rise on my tiptoes and press a soft kiss to his lips, hoping it’s enough to pull him back. To remind him where he is—right here, with me.
We head into the dining room, where the table is piled high with food.
There’s creamy mashed potatoes from the ones we dug up this morning, a thick stew loaded with carrots and beans, and roasted rabbit from one of Michael’s traps, seasoned with wild herbs Lorelai found.
It smells incredible, like real food, not dusty cans pulled from abandoned shelves.
James takes his place at one end of the table, his expression lighter now, almost happy.
I slide into the seat next to him, and his hand settles gently on my thigh.
Michael drops into the chair on his other side, already scooping a heap of mashed potatoes onto his plate, steam rising from the spoon.
Across the table, Lorelai slips onto Ryan’s lap, nestling in as he wraps an arm around her waist without missing a beat. Conversations ripple through the room, overlapping with bursts of laughter.
This. This is what a home sounds like.
I grab a spoonful of stew and take a taste. Lorelai’s cooking doesn’t disappoint. The flavors are rich, earthy, and warm.
But then, something feels… off. My stomach twists, and a wave of nausea hits. I set the spoon down, willing myself to stay calm, but it’s no use. The bile’s already rising in my throat.
“Lorelai,” I croak, trying not to sound too panicked, “did you put cucumbers in this?”
Lorelai turns to me, spoon in hand. “Yes. Why?”
Oh no.
I don’t even have time to think, let alone answer. I shoot to my feet and bolt to the bathroom.
I barely make it to the sink before I’m doubled over, retching so violently it echoes off the tiles. Oh yeah, nothing like the sweet melody of someone throwing up to complement dinner.
A few minutes later, I leave the bathroom, muttering a string of curses under my breath that would’ve made my dad raise an eyebrow.
When I walk back into the dining room, everyone’s staring like I just walked in naked.
Great. Just great.
James is already up, scanning me as if he expects I might collapse at any moment. And Lorelai looks ready to cry, exactly the last thing I want to happen tonight.
I force a grin with as much sarcasm as I can muster. “Dinner is amazing, Lorelai. Five stars. Seriously.”
Laughter erupts around the room, washing away that little storm cloud of worry.
Lorelai rushes over. “Are you sure you’re okay, Sarah?”
“You poison me with cucumbers? Wow. I thought we were friends, Lorelai.”
Lorelai’s hands fly to her mouth. “Oh my God, I didn’t know cucumbers made you sick!”
I wave her off, milking the drama. “It’s fine. I’ll survive. Just next time, maybe give me a heads-up so I can draft a will or something.”
“You’re impossible.” She laughs, wrapping her arms around me. “Come on, let’s check on the apple pie.”
We’re halfway to the kitchen when a flash of lightning tears across the sky, lighting up the whole house.
A second later, thunder crashes, loud enough to make the walls shake.
The boom is so sharp it makes everyone jump, hands flying to our ears to block it out.
My teeth literally hurt from the force of it.
I glance around the room. No one’s moving. No one’s blinking. Michael still has his hands clamped over his ears, and Lorelai’s eyes are squeezed shut.
The storm slams against the walls like it’s trying to break in. Rain pounds the roof harder and harder, and every few seconds, lightning floods the room, bright as a camera flash, followed by a deep, bone-shaking rumble of thunder.
The air turns cool, and everything outside the windows blurs into gray. James walks over and drapes his jacket around my shoulders, then stays there, his hands resting gently on me. I look up and catch the tense lines on his face.
We all see it when the next lightning bolt strikes a tree by the lake. Branches splinter and fall, leaves whip away into the storm, and flames spark inside the bark, somehow burning despite the rain.
Michael moves to the window, and Lorelai follows. They both stare out into the chaos.
“Is that… normal?” Lorelai asks.
Michael shakes his head, still focused on the burning tree. “I’ve never seen anything like this.”
Another bolt hits, right in the garden. It’s so close, the impact feels like a bomb went off.
For a split second, the windows vibrate, and then—
CRACK.
Glass explodes in every direction, shards slicing through the air. I scream, unable to stop myself, but James is faster. His arms wrap around me, pulling me down to the floor. His body covers mine, shielding me from the deadly rain of glass.
When the last shard settles, the room goes still. James turns me around, and his eyes sweep over me from head to toe, searching for blood or broken skin.
“Are you okay?” he asks.
“I’m not hurt.”
I look around as everyone slowly gets up, brushing glass off their clothes. Thank God, no one’s hurt.
James and Michael lock eyes, exchanging a wordless check-in, making sure the other’s okay. I don’t hear them say a word, but I can see the whole conversation in their eyes.
The storm’s outside, but it might as well be in here too. Water and debris are everywhere, turning the floor into a muddy mess. The wind howls through the broken windows, making the candles flicker wildly, then crash to the floor and shatter, snuffing out the last bit of light.
I reach for James’s hand in the dark. The roof groans above us as if it’s about to give under the weight of all that water.
“This place isn’t going to hold much longer!” James shouts over the chaos. “We need to leave. Now!”
“Ryan, car keys!” Michael shouts.
Ryan nods, hands shaking as he fumbles through his pockets. He pulls out two sets of keys and tosses one to Michael, who catches it in midair.
He turns to Lorelai, who’s frozen in place, her face pale and her eyes wide. “Come on, pumpkin, let’s grab the backpacks. It’s time to go.”
Ryan touches her arm gently, snapping her out of it. Then they hurry to the kitchen to grab the emergency backpacks.
A wave of panic crashes into me the moment James starts pulling away from my hand.
“Where do you think you’re going?” I demand, my voice shaking.
“I need to grab our backpack. It’s upstairs,” he says, taking another step away from me.
I tighten my grip on his hand. “Don’t go.”
Stay.
“I’ll be right back.”
Stay here.
“Please, James, don’t go. Forget our stuff. Let’s just leave.”
Stay with me.
He pauses for half a second, just long enough for me to hope, then shakes his head with a faint smile. “And leave your books behind? Not a chance.”
He winks, like everything’s fine. Then he turns, slipping from my hand, and takes the stairs two at a time, every step stealing him from me.
At the top of the stairs, he looks back—not at me, but at my brother. “Michael, get her out of here.”
I open my mouth to call him back, but he’s already gone, disappearing upstairs, taking my heart with him.
I shouldn’t have let go of his hand.
Lightning flashes and thunder booms all around me, but I can’t take my eyes off those stairs.
“We’ve gotta go, Sarah,” Michael says, his tone sharp, no room for debate.
He takes my hand and guides me toward the door, but I dig my heels in.
“No way. I’m not leaving James. We’re waiting for him right here.”