Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 95765 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 479(@200wpm)___ 383(@250wpm)___ 319(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95765 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 479(@200wpm)___ 383(@250wpm)___ 319(@300wpm)
“I said that, yeah,” he agrees. “It was true, back then.”
“Still is,” Leo says. “You’ve just got to want to work at it.”
“It’s too fucking late for that,” Jake cries. “I fucked up. I fucked up real fucking bad.”
“And so did Mariana and so did I. We all fucked up, Jake. But we’re still fucking brothers.” He sighs. “If I was here again, with this place up in flames, I’d pull you out just like I did then.”
“You should’ve saved her first,” Jake blubs.
“I couldn’t fucking save her at all, no matter how much I wanted to.”
“Gotta set this place on fire,” Jake threatens. My heart pounds. “Get out now, or you’ll be coming with me.”
“Well, I guess I’ll be coming with you then,” he says.
Phoenix
I’m deadly serious.
My ass is in kerosene. My clothes stink of it. My hair stinks of it.
It’s all I can fucking taste, too.
My fucked up brother’s got a lighter in his hand and he’s on the verge of setting fire to us all.
But I can’t leave him.
“You’ve got stuff to live for,” Jake protests. “I fucking haven’t.”
“So make something to live for. Get sober. Help me build the business back up. Take up poker, or bowling and embroidery or any old fucking shit,” I hiss. “Just to get you on your feet again.” I chance brutal honesty. “And Jesus, Jake, stop fucking pitying yourself. You loved and lost, we all did. It’s shit but it’s life. Death is a part of life. No amount of guilt or hate is gonna change what fucking happened. Serena needs you. Hell, I fucking need you, when you’re not a barrel of walking suck.”
“I can’t, Leo. I can’t go on,” he says and I’m at the end of my tether, make or fucking break.
I shoot Abigail a look as she stares on in horror. I can just make her out in the shadows. Waiting for me.
I mouth ‘I love you’ in case it’s the only time I ever get to tell her, and then I bring this thing to an end.
He’s not expecting it as I spring like a fucking snake and tear that lighter from his fingers. He’s not expecting me to throw it as hard as I fucking can through the open roof and pray it lands innocuously on some piece of fucking dirt outside.
“You’re fucking crazy!” Jake grunts. He’s still on his knees. Pained to all fuck with his insane red eyes streaming tears as mine threaten to fall too. “I want to fucking die!” he screams, but I don’t care.
Not on my watch.
Never on my fucking watch.
It’s then that I hear the sirens in the distance. I thank my fucking stars I moved in time, before the idiot sonofabitch flipped his lid in panic and set the lot on fire.
I kneel down at his side as they get nearer, loving and hating him and pitying and despising him all at fucking once.
“You can slit your fucking throat in bed at night, Jake, or take a fucking overdose, or drink yourself to death. Whatever. But it won’t be now, and it won’t be on my fucking watch.”
He carries on wailing as my hand grips his shoulder.
I hear Abigail screaming at the oncoming vehicles. I’m still gripping Jack’s shoulder as the torches shine in my eyes.
“We’re alright,” I say. “Be careful, it’s flammable.”
They’re careful.
Careful as they pull us out of there and help us out of our clothes.
Careful as they scrub us of everything that could set us on fire and wrap us in fucking blankets.
They take Jake away in a cop car. I watch him all the way with the sirens blaring.
It hits me in the gut, despite everything.
Until I feel Abigail’s arms snake around my waist and hold me tight. “He’ll be alright,” she says, even though I know she’s as unsure as I am.
“I didn’t realise he was so fucked up,” I admit. “I should’ve realised a long time ago.”
I lift my arm and pull her under, hold her tight to my skin under the blanket. She snuggles in tight.
“That was crazy,” she says. “The scariest thing in the world.”
“At least we have all the pieces now. You can only start making sense of the picture if you have all the pieces.”
She nods. “So, what do we do now?”
I shrug. “Answer some questions for the authorities. Put this fucking place on the market, finally.” I smile. “Eat burnt lasagne in your kitchen.”
“It was burnt?” she asks, and her eyes are twinkling.
Relief, it’ll do that to you. I’m feeling it too.
“I’d say an eight out of ten on the burn factor, but that’s still edible, right?”
She shrugs. “Worth finding out, no?”
I fill in the paperwork for the people who are asking, and I answer all the questions in the air.
She waits for me in the truck, her eyes on me all the time.