I blink a couple of times while coming to terms with my own decided fate.
I stare up at the blood-painted ceiling of the Stop & Shop. The place I used to call my home. Its wooden floors are stained with soot as the wallpaper and everything in between burned to a crisp.
What went down here, in this town, never should have happened.
Immense pain and unrelenting suffering.
Death might have been quick, but the mark it left on this place … on me … is permanent.
And it’s all because of me.
My actions. Every misstep. Every obsession and every desire.
It all led to this moment.
None of it should have ever happened. Not me, not my fiery rage. None of it … But especially not her.
Dixie Burrell. The one girl I always wanted but could never have. Not truly. Not fully. Never completely mine even though I tried so fucking hard.
Damn … I even killed for her.
And it fucking ruined us both.
I should’ve never set my eyes on her. Should’ve never let her get close and witness the real me. The dark monster hiding within.
She should’ve never stepped foot in this shop all those years ago. Should’ve never opened her pretty mouth in front of me and spoken a single word with that sweet, sinful voice of hers.
Because with her sassy stubbornness, that gorgeous body, and fascinating mind, she left her mark on my heart and tainted my very essence … Blackened my soul until nothing but fire and ash were left.
And now she’ll be my undoing.
I sit down on a chair and witness the decimation around me, the beautiful chaos of the smoke filling the air, and the flames licking the windows. I don’t intend to move even an inch.
I’ve set my memories on fire.
And with them, I’ll burn too.
*
Dixie
In the middle of the night, I’m listening to the radio while working on my latest gadget. The reporters are talking about the local news. Their voices usually calm me but not tonight.
“Breaking news, everyone! A local resident has reported a building in the middle of town is on fire. We don’t know the validity of this report, but we’ll make sure to alert the fire department. It appears to be a local Stop & Shop.”
My eyes widen.
Brandon.
My stool tumbles to the floor as I jump up and run out the door, hastily grabbing my coat on the way. I rush to my truck and chase it off the property. With screeching tires, I manage to enter the town, going faster than the speed limit. But right now, none of that matters.
It’s him. It has to be him.
There’s no one left alive who would care enough about that Stop & Shop to set it on fire.
Except one man … Brandon Locklear.
So I park my car across the street and jump out, barely remembering to lock it before running to the other end of the street. My lungs can’t carry me fast enough across the pavement, and my legs almost give out as I try to skip the steps leading up to the shop. When I burst into the door, I’m greeted by smoke and fire. The flames lick the door and windows, the smoke darkening the room. Coughing, I make my way inside.
I don’t know what I’m doing. I’m out of my mind to go straight into a building on fire. It could collapse at any moment, crushing me underneath it. But it’s not just me I’m worried about here.
He’s inside.
I’m sure of it.
So I wade through the soot and avoid the flames as best as I can. With a piece of my shirt, I protect my mouth and nose while trying to breathe. It’s almost impossible to see anything, but one thing lights up the area.
A tiny flame in the middle of the ravaged shop.
Like a moth being drawn to the light, I move toward it.
And in this scorching heat, I find the only person on this planet who has managed to defrost my ice-cold heart.
Chapter Forty-One
Brandon
This is my final ode to my papa. A beautiful annihilation of the wounds that should’ve never existed. Wounds I caused. Wounds I carry until this very day. And I will take them to my grave.
My time on this earth is over. I’ve had enough.
No one needs to hurt anymore. Not because of me.
I close my eyes and let it all happen. I know it’ll be an agonizing death, but I deserve every single inch of the excruciating pain to come. It’s a small price to pay for all the suffering I’ve caused. The stinging on my back isn’t so bad when I compare it to the heat of the fire that’s about to engulf me.
Suddenly, something wraps around my neck, ensnaring me from behind.
I open my eyes as someone whispers into my ear, “Don’t do this. Please. You gotta live. For me.”
My heart almost beats out of my chest. Dixie. Is she really here? Or are the flames messing with my head.
The grip grows tighter as it turns and shifts to the front, and I feel a pressure on my legs. Something … or someone … sits down on my lap.
Only when the smoke disappears for just a moment do I realize it’s really her.
“Dixie,” I mumble.
She’s really here in the flesh.
“Yes, it’s me,” she says, cupping my face. Her eyes tear up. “I’m here.”
“Dixie, I thought I’d never see you again,” I mutter, coughing from the smoke surrounding us.
“Why are you doing this?” she asks, her voice straining.
“I …” I can’t even answer that question without feeling incredibly humbled. “The world is better off without me and without this shop.”
She leans back, staring at me while tears run down her face.
SLAP.
I touch my face where it stings. Ouch. That hurt. But not as much as the look on her face.
“Brandon Locklear, stop this fucking bullshit right now,” she says, shaking me by the shoulders.
Damn, she truly is a potty mouth for sure.
“You’re better than this,” she says. “Don’t fucking do this.”
It hurts me to say this. “I have to.”
“Why?” she asks.
“There’s too much pain here,” I reply, lowering my head.
With a single finger, she tips my chin up. “There are better ways to deal with pain.”