The scream that tears from me doesn’t sound human.
Benny catches me before I hit the ground. His arms wrap around me, strong, unshakable, pulling me into the solid press ofhis chest. I claw at him, fists tight in his shirt, trying to find something alive when the only images in my head are of my parents burning.
“It’s okay,” he murmurs, rocking me, voice breaking into something soft, something warm. “You’re safe. I’ve got you. You’re not alone in this.”
I sob against him until my body convulses, until bile burns the back of my throat. The smell of smoke clings to my imagination so thick I swear I can taste it, bitter and acrid on my tongue. And then he leans down, his breath brushing my ear, low enough to feel like a secret.
“That son of a bitch didn’t tell you,” he whispers, “he left you here alone.”
The words slide into me like poison. I push myself away from him, backing off like a child who’s just find out the lap they’re sitting on isn’t the real Santa.
“Jacob loves me. Don’t you dare—” I sob, uncontrollable anger pouring from every word.
“Then where is he, Summer?” he shrugs, frustration radiating from him as he pulls me back into his arms.
And he’s right. Where is he? He’s gone. Leaving me to shatter in Benny’s arms. He holds tighter, sealing the crack he’s pried open with his hands.
But it isn’t enough. No arms can hold the weight of this.
“I need to see them.” The words crackle out between sobs, half-choked, half-mad. I wrench at his grip, shoving hard against his chest until I’m on my feet. My body sways, knees trembling, vision blurring with tears. “I need to go. Now. I need to see them?—”
“Summer—”
“Ihave to!” My voice splinters, piercing, shrill. My hand slams against the doorknob, slippery with sweat, rattling hard enough the metal clinks. “They can’t just—I can’t just—I have tosee them!”
Benny’s hand snaps over mine. Holding me in place and forcing me to look to him.
“No.”
The word detonates in me, I yank my hands free of his grasp.
“Don’t you tell me no!” I whirl on him, wild, unsteady, chest heaving.
My hands slam against his chest, fists beating uselessly against muscle that won’t give.
“They’re my parents. Myparents! You can’t stop me?—”
“Listen to me.” His voice cracks through mine, low but harsh enough to slice. He grabs my wrists mid-swing, holding them firm, holding me still. His face is close, too close, eyes searing into mine. “If you run out there right now, you’ll see nothing but ashes. Do you understand? Ashes.” He runs a hand through his hair. “Your parents were taken away by the coroner. They won’t let you see them, not until after the cops carry out their investigation.”
Benny lowers me carefully, like he’s guiding me down rather than letting me fall. I’m shaking so hard my teeth clatter. My stomach knots and twists, and then bile surges up my throat. I lurch sideways, heaving, retching onto the floor until acid burns my tongue.
Benny is there, pulling my hair back, murmuring, “It’s okay, I’ve got you, just breathe, darlin’, just breathe.” His voice is low, steady, coaxing me through the violence of my own body.
“You’ll see them,” Benny whispers, rocking me against him once more. “But not like this. Not tonight.” His hand cups my jaw, thumb stroking away tears and sweat. His voice softens until it’s almost tender. “He should have told you. God, I wouldn’t have left you alone to find out like this. I wouldn’t have run off and abandoned you. But he did.I’m here.I’ll be the one to take you when the time’s right.”
The words sink deep, cutting through the haze of grief, leaving raw edges behind.
He did.
The truth of it is undeniable. I watched Jacob walk out that door, watched his back vanish into the night without a word, without a glance. He didn’t tell me. He didn’t stay. He left, even after everything he said. After everything we shared. After telling me he loved me before he turned and walked out of that door.
My voice cracks when it comes out. “You—you don’t know my parents. You don’t know where they live, or anything about them?”
Benny’s hand stills. His body stiffens for a fraction of a second before he exhales slow, like the question itself wounds him. He leans back enough to meet my eyes, thumb brushing my cheek as though to soften the blow.
“Deputy Thompson called me,” he says quietly. “My cousin.”
I blink at him, stunned.
