Douglass didn’t eat anything tonight.
Mike walks over and cuffs my shoulder. “Is Danni okay?”
“She will be.”
I hope.
Once I send the text to Douglass explaining where I’m going, I type out one more.
Me: I love you.
Chapter 50
Have you ever felt such numbing cold that you eventually felt nothing at all? I liken it to a form of frostbite to the soul that deadens all your nerve endings and slows down your thoughts while also speeding up time around you.
I answer the policemen’s and firemen’s questions on autopilot. I’m not sure exactly what I say, but it’s enough to appease them and make them go away until the next policeman walks over, wanting to ask more questions. It’s been a revolving door of the same thing for the past two hours as I’ve sat on the thick metal bumper of the ambulance that arrived and watched as fire hoses doused Natalie’s house, trying to save it. Unfortunately, there wasn’t much to save by the time they arrived. It’s gone. Everything Natalie owned. All her possessions and heirlooms that held the greatest sentimental value. Memories of Mom, their parents, her childhood, Jordan’s mom, Samantha. My journals. All turned to flakes of ash, their pieces scattered in the wind.
Blinding red, white, blue, and orange lights flash and reflect off the windows of the houses to either side of Natalie’s, lighting everything up like Christmas. Mrs. Shepardson has been standing in the street in that ugly robe with matching ugly slippers talking with the other neighbors who came out to watch. The loud, crackled voices of dispatchers over radios attached to uniforms and belts shrill into the night.
Chaos is around me, but I’m protected in a bubble of shock and the wool blanket someone wrapped around my shoulders.
“Dee. Babe.”
My head is listless, filled with helium. It takes effort to turn it and look up into Mason’s concerned face.
“Harper is on her way. She says she can’t get in touch with Jordan. She called Mike, and he said Jordan left with Daniella a couple of hours ago. Mike’s tried to get a hold of him, too.”
Of course he’s with Daniella. Did he even notice I wasn’t there, or is he too busy screwing her somewhere to give a damn?
I look back at the tendrils of wet smoke, the last vestiges of the fire that consumed the house in a matter of minutes.
“I don’t care.”
I don’t want to see Jordan right now. I can’t handle anything else.
I move aside the bracelets and touch my wrist. It’s a bad habit I formed soon after the cuts healed. But for some reason, it helps calm me. It’s a reminder that I’m a survivor.
“I don’t know what to do about Natalie.” My voice is hoarse, probably from breathing in the particulate-filled air.
“Thanks,” Mason says to the female EMS when she hands him a small bottle of water. He uncaps it and gives it to me. “Drink,” he says, holding the bottle steady for me.
It burns as I sip it.
“I don’t want to ruin her trip. This is probably the last opportunity she’ll get to have that experience, and if I tell her, she’ll come home. The stress could set her back and exacerbate her symptoms. How can I do that to her? Where the hell are we going to live until she’s able to move into Brookgate?”
I told Mason about Natalie’s Alzheimer’s today. Why do I keep so many secrets from the people who care about me? What the hell is wrong with me?
Mason cups my face. “You don’t have to think about that now. And I’ve already canceled my flight. I’m sticking around for as long as you need me.”
I swallow the lump in my throat, so goddamn grateful for him.
“I can’t go back to that house.”
Harper will insist, and Jordan… fuck what Jordan wants. Those old walls start rebuilding, brick by brick.
“Miss Donnelly?”
I look over Mason’s shoulder to see a man dressed in a pristine uniform. The Chief Fire Marshall, if I recall correctly. I think his last name is O’Connell. He’s much younger than I thought someone in that position would be. My guess, he’s in his early thirties. He spoke with me earlier, but I don’t recall most of our conversation.
