The next three weeks pass in a blur—one I still can’t believe has been our reality.
Keoni suffered second-degree burns across his shoulder blades and couldn’t fully lie down until a few days after the incident. He ended up with more than eighty stitches, including a large gash in his side, others scattered across his body.
But he’s alive. And after the first week, he was walking farther than just the hospital hall.
His birthday was spent there; a day that was hard to find cheerful. Britt and Calista came to spend a few hours with us, and Kali, though out of town, video-called in. Taylor showed up in the evening with cupcakes. To my surprise, Levi appeared as well, though Evelyn was absent. He said she wanted to come but was tied up with work. We even received a birthday message from Starlight.
Somebody in the group chat asks for updates every day or so. The love they pour over us, even without truly knowing us, is something I hadn’t expected—but it was desperately needed. Especially with everything going on beyond just Keo’s recovery.
The fire at the hotel is still under investigation. There was only one casualty: Corey. He’d fallen through the third floor straight into the blaze. I don’t want to know if he suffered. I just hope he didn’t.
According to reports, the ceiling collapsed on Keoni. It sounds like he lost consciousness immediately. When he woke briefly, all he remembered was the fire blazing around him, not that Dom found him and dragged him out.
Keo swears he heard someone screaming for help. I believe him, even though the reports say no one else was left in the building. He hasn’t spoken of it since. Says dwelling on it will only drive him crazy because he knows what he heard.
I told him I believe him, that maybe the screams came from another floor. He shut the conversation down quickly, recoiling from me just as swiftly.
After that first night together, he’s slept alone. He hasn’t asked me to stay beside him again. While I’ve chalked it up to recovery, I know it’s more than that.
He was discharged from the hospital today—the same day as Corey’s funeral.
It feels like death has been a constant presence in our lives for far too long. Corey’s plot lies only a few rows away from where our parents rest. This isn’t how I’d wanted to visit them—fresh from burying someone else we were beginning to call family.
The rain started halfway through the service, driving most of the mourners to the church for the repast. Only Taylor, Kali, Brittany, Keoni, and I stayed behind. None of us cared about being drenched as we watched the casket lower into the earth.
Britt stands at my left, her hand gripping mine while she leans into Taylor for support. Keo is on my right, his arm wrapped around Kali as she whispers her goodbyes.
“It was an honor to protect and serve with you, Corey,” she murmurs.
Taylor chokes on a sob, and Britt lets go of me completely to hold her. I shift instinctively closer to Keo, but he doesn’t move, doesn’t reach for me. I get it. Britt’s here. And Britt knows he’s my stepbrother.
When the rain grows heavier, the girls finally rush off, dresses clinging to their legs and hair plastered to their faces. I’m about to follow when Keoni stays rooted to the spot.
Blinking through the water streaking into my eyes, I glance around until I spot a worker in the distance with an umbrella. I hurry over, and he doesn’t even wait for me to ask before pressing it into my hands.
I pop it open as I return to Keo’s side, holding it over us both. I have to stand close to keep him from getting soaked, our shoulders brushing beneath the small canopy.
I hate the thought of dragging him away, but thunder rumbles low across the sky, and the rain’s only getting worse.
“Hey.” I set my hand carefully on his arm, bracing for him to pull away. Thankfully he doesn’t, and relief loosens something tight in my chest. “Come on. We can sit in the truck until it stops.”
Water runs down his face in thin rivulets, but his eyes don’t see the ground in front of him. They’re fixed somewhere else entirely, staring into a world that only exists inside his mind.
“Keo?” I watch his pupils dilate the second I say his name.
“It’s my fault.”
I take a slow, steady breath, and wrap my hand around his bicep. Beneath the double layers he’s wearing, I can feel the muscle tense, locked with guilt. I stay quiet. Telling him it isn’t his fault won’t help—not now.
His head bows, eyes squeezed shut. “Always my fucking fault.” The whisper scrapes raw from his throat, filled with so much anguish it makes my chest ache. “I sent him upstairs… It wasn’t my call to make. I wasn’t in command. Dom was. But I told Corey to check the third and fourth floors.”
My teeth clamp down on my lip hard.
“I thought… it would’ve been safer,” he breathes, voice breaking. “Since we knew the fire was on the second floor.”
Then, all at once, he crumples. His knees hit the mud so fast I stumble forward with him, heart lurching into my throat. Somehow, I catch myself before I fall over him.
As he leans forward, I move to kneel beside him, feeling the damp soil seep through my pants.
