I jerk my chin toward the door. “Come on, angel.”
She grabs her helmet.
So do I.
And twenty minutes later, we are on the road back to the one place I would rather burn down than let her walk into.
My angel goes stiff behind me the second we turn onto her road.
I feel it in the way her arms lock around my middle.
I cover one of her hands for a second where it rests against my stomach.
She squeezes once.
Then lets go.
The house comes into view.
Small place. Sagging porch. Yellow paint gone ugly with age. The kind of yard that used to be cared for before the wrong people were left in charge of it.
But it is not the yard that pulls my attention.
It is the truck near the side of the house I do not recognize.
The tire tracks in the dirt.
The front door standing half open.
I slow the bike.
Julie sees it too. I feel the exact second her body goes tight.
“Tank.”
“Yeah.”
I pull up thirty yards short of the porch and kill the engine.
Silence drops.
No birds.
No voices.
No movement.
Bad sign.
I get off and take her helmet. My hand catches her jaw for one second.
“You stay behind me.”
She nods.
We go up the porch. I step through the front door first, Julie close behind me.
The smell hits before the sight.
