Chapter 24
Chapter Twenty-Four
Vaughn
Kate’s expression is exactly why I didn’t want to have this conversation.
Horror, sorrow.
Pity.
My gut clenches as the memories I’ve forced into their little box come roaring back. “Gus has blamed me for their deaths for twenty years.”
The old man jerks like he’s taken a blow.
“I can tell you what I know, but I’ve never talked about it. Most of the details are fuzzy.”
Kate moves closer—not enough to touch, but like she can’t stand to be too far away.
She’s got that look on her face that makes me think she wants to hug it out, but if she touches me, I’ll crumble.
Thankfully, she offers me a brush and goes back to petting Yankee, fiddling with his mane, untangling the strands, and then braiding long pieces.
The soft space of silence is enough to unlock the words.
“I was seventeen and cooking a midnight snack of macaroni and cheese. Only I fell asleep.” Inhaling feels like sucking in knives; my throat is so tight and my chest so stiff I might suffocate as I try to tell this story.
I know I need to get it out in the open.
It’s been a festering wound for too long. But it fucking hurts.
I put the brush to Yankee and allow his comforting presence to help me voice my nightmare.
“I woke up to a smoke-filled house and the kitchen on fire. I tried to get to Mom, but the way the house was built, the stairs were on the other side of the kitchen, and I couldn’t get to them.
I couldn’t get to her. I tried going outside to access the second floor… ”
My voice trails off. This is much harder than I’m prepared for. Talking about this in front of Gus, knowing we’re both suffering, and yet here I am, ripping the scar tissue apart. He’s moved farther around Yankee’s head, and the sound of a sniffle cracks my heart in two.
“Dad was on duty that night. I was freaking out and crying when he got there with the engine. His crew jumped into action, but he was the first in. Didn’t wait on his crew, didn’t even take a hose with him.
Just burst through the door like a damn lunatic.
” My words fall hollow and flat to my ears, like I’m recounting someone else’s story.
“I remember thinking for a split second that he was a hero. And I knew he’d save her.
” The last word comes out on a tremble. I’m suddenly seventeen again, standing in the dead of night while my whole world burns.
The stench of the fire, the lights flashing into the trees, searing the night sky with red.
My heart bleeds like I’m ripping my insides out.
A sharp sting at my palm brings me back to the present. The brush I’ve been holding has left its mark on my hand where I was gripping it.
Setting the brush to Yankee’s coat, I continue, “It was so loud. Voices of the crew, the roar of the fire, and I kept waiting for them to come out. Waiting and waiting.” The only sounds in the barn are those of the bristles scratching Yankee’s hide and the sniffles that sometimes interrupt.
I don’t know if they belong to Gus or Kate.
She’s farther away from me now; maybe she’s comforting him as I recount the night I stole his daughter away.
“There was a loud crack and then a shower of sparks and flames when the house collapsed. But I still hoped. I don’t know how long I sat by that engine. Waiting for Mom and Dad to miraculously appear. But they never did.”
A small hand slips into mine, holding so tightly that she pulls me back from the dark place my mind has slipped into. It’s an olive branch. A lifeline to cling to. One I don’t deserve, but I’m going to hold on to it anyway because I’m just that selfish.
She slides between me and the horse and plasters herself to my front. My arms wrap around her of their own volition, and I seek the comfort of the space between her shoulder and jaw, burying my face there.
The sob jerks my body, but her arms don’t loosen. They grow tighter, holding the teenage version of myself I lost that horrible night.
Another set of arms comes around me, so strange and yet so familiar, sending me right back to that little boy who needed to be held by his grandfather when our whole world crumbled.
I stiffen, but he just squeezes. Like he needs this connection as much as I do.
Kate loosens her hold, and with a soft touch, guides me to Gus. It’s unnatural, awkward as hell. And unsettling too. He’s so frail. Not the strong man I once knew and looked up to.
The moment we are chest to chest and my arms close around him, his head hits my shoulder.
“I’m so sorry, son.” His voice breaks on the last word. My larger-than-life grandfather, the one I looked up to and adored, who was my best friend until he forced me away, is crying his silent tears.
His apology brings on the waterworks again, and I can barely breathe through a throat that’s clogged with emotion.
I’ve wanted this moment for twenty years.
Wanted him to see me. To be as remorseful for making me leave as I was for being the cause of the fire.
And still, I can’t quite wrap my brain around the fact that it’s happening.
“I was wrong to blame you. I couldn’t see past my own grief until it was too late and you were gone.
” He pulls away to cup my cheek. “It took you coming back to make me realize the fool I’ve been.
I’ve wasted so many years. Can you ever forgive me?
” The broken, grumbled words, spoken so softly I have to strain to hear, finally reach that spot inside of me that’s needed forgiveness.
My shoulders relax, and I tighten my arms around the last living relative I have. “Pop.”
We stay like that for a long time. Drawing strength and forgiveness from each other. Eventually, Yankee shuffles beside us, and a sob rings out from his other side.
“Sorry, I’m a blubbering mess. I didn’t mean to intrude. Well, I did, but only because I want to help you two,” Kate says, rounding the horse with red-rimmed eyes. “And I don’t blame you one bit. I haven’t seen the final memorial, but I can imagine how hard it would be if I were in your shoes.”
I pull away from my grandfather, torn between whether this is the right thing to do or not.
What would Gran do? That one question has been my guiding light for as long as I can remember.
She’d want us to go and honor her daughter.
But she also wished I’d come home, for a reconciliation between me and Gus, and I couldn’t bring myself to do that either. The whole situation fucking sucks.
“Dex thinks we should go,” I interject. “Gran would want us to go.”
As expected, Gus puffs up his chest and opens his mouth to argue. Even though things between us may be forging a new bridge, I suspect we will always butt heads about most things.
I hold out a hand to quell the rant before he can start. “I get it, Gus. Really, I do. If you really don’t want to go, we won’t. But think about, for Gran’s sake. For Mom and Dad’s sake.”
He deflates like a balloon but doesn’t argue anymore. He faces our beautiful house guest and says, “I don’t want to go to the ceremony, Katie, because it makes me realize all I’ve lost.”
Tenderness washes over her expression, and she wraps those magical healing arms around my grandfather just like she did me.
“Whatever you decide is okay.” The gentleness in her tone accompanies a soothing back rub, and in that moment, I am jealous of an eighty-year-old man for receiving her affection.
I didn’t come back to heal old wounds. I came back to keep what I knew Gran wanted me to have. But this tiny sprite between us may be healing us whether we want it or not.
My phone rings, blaring through the peacefulness we’ve found like shattering glass. Kate and Gus both wear shocked expressions.
“What?”
“That’s the first time I’ve heard your phone ring the whole time you’ve been here.”
Because I usually have it on silent and avoid phone calls when she’s available. Plus, it’s not like I have a ton of friends I talk to regularly. A few Navy buddies here and there. But locally, besides Kate and Gus, the only other person I’ve been in touch with is Dex.
“It’s probably Dex. He texted earlier that he wanted to talk about something later. I guess now is later, and if I had to guess, it’s more about this memorial thing.”
But as I lift my phone, it’s not Dex calling. It’s Carlos, telling me the investor has come through and wants to meet us both. Wants a rushed timeline. It’ll take the both of us working around the clock to make it happen.
And suddenly the time I’ve spent here feels too short, with only a few weeks left before I’m due back in Bali.