Teagan
The car is eerily silent as Quentin makes the drive over to my place. Or what was once my place. I need to see it for myself.
It’s almost as if it’s not really real until that happens.
My mind is a mess. I don’t know where I’ll live. I have the money, but I don’t know where to even start. I’ve lived here since I was old enough to get and afford my own place.
Quentin makes a left, pulling down my street, when my mouth falls open and an audible gasp leaves my lips.
“Fuck.” My lips quiver, losing the battle to the tears that are escaping down my cheeks at the sight in front of me.
The Victorian modern apartment complex is still standing, but the windows from my place on the second floor are shattered, the edges darkened from the fire.
There’s still smoke coming from the windows as firefighters are on the scene, dousing water into the broken windows.
I don’t know much about fires, but from what I’m seeing, I know the owner of the complex wasn’t lying when he said there is nothing left.
My body goes numb as it settles in that everything’s gone.
Blueberry’s room that was just getting started.
Every piece of furniture. Every medal and trophy. All of my clothes. Every. Thing.
It’s almost like my life before didn’t exist, a clean slate if you will. There’s no evidence of the past, nothing that screams I existed here. All that’s left is me, Blueberry, and the clothes on my back.
I hiccup, overwhelmed with so many emotions that I break and sob with my hands covering my face.
Quentin leans across the console, his large arm wrapping around my shoulders, pulling me into him. I should push him away, but I don’t have it in me to fight off his comforting embrace.
“I don’t want you to see me like this.”
“What do you mean?” he counters as his fingers trail gently up and down my arm.
“I…” I hiccup. “Don’t like crying in front of people.”
I’ve always been embarrassed letting anyone, let alone a man see me vulnerable like this. I don’t like how I feel when I’m sad. I hate that it feels like I’m weak and giving up by crying, as if I’m letting something else win over my ability to self-regulate and fix the problem.
“If it makes you feel better, I can pretend it never happened.” He offers with a gentle smile, his voice so soft and comforting.
All I offer is a subtle nod before I bury myself into him. The tears I’d been holding free-fall down my cheeks as I let myself grieve the past life it feels like I lost.
Quentin never stops rubbing his hand up and down my arm while repeatedly telling me it’ll be okay in the most gentle voice.
Eventually, the tears slow and my breathing evens out, so I drag my hands away from my face.
Quentin offers me a tissue he must’ve grabbed from the center console, and I clean up my face as he removes his arm from my body.
I kind of miss his warmth, but I’ll never admit that to him.
“Thank you for that,” I mumble, not looking over at him.
“Nothing happened, right?” he says, his voice light and teasing.
It makes me scoff and fail to hide a small smile. “Right.” Inhaling and exhaling deeply, I stare at what was once my home, realizing there’s nothing to be done about it. As much as it sucks, I have to figure out a game plan.
“I guess I’ll have to move in with my brother,” I relent, knowing I have nowhere else to go for now. While he’s going to be overbearing, it’s the easiest choice right now.
“With it being a secret from Ian, do you think that’s the best option?” he counters.
