Page 51 of Heavy
And in her hand—oh my god—a shotgun.
“You alright?” she asks, and I wet my lips, nodding my head. Her gaze trails to her shoulder where the barrel of the weapon rests, and then she smirks. “Don’t worry, the gun isn’t for you. It was for those pricks if they dared turn down our street.” She takes a step to me. “My name is Amaranta, but my family calls me Amy. Come on, let’s get you inside.”
I remain rooted to the spot, my hands clenched tightly at my sides, not daring to move or say anything. Then, her arm slips gently over my shoulder, breaking the tension.
“He’s got himself a little lamb I see,” she says, her tone unexpectedly soft, almost warm. There’s no trace of the hard edge she’d used on those two men just moments ago.
“I… would like to wait outside for Ronan.”
“Ro will kill me if I let you stay out here.” She sighs softly, guiding me toward the house. The place has the same wire fencing as the other homes around here, but the yard is noticeably better kept. I catch signs of a dog—patches of grass that’ve browned and a few scattered toys left out. Somehow, these small details make the place feel a little more welcoming, a little warmer. “If they come driving by, I can’t have you in any danger, sorry.”
Swallowing roughly, I nod.
As we reach the driveway filled with several cars, I cast a nervous glance over my shoulder at my own car, parked awkwardly at the curb. The house feels too familiar, even though I know it isn’t the same one. Still, that creeping unease lingers—the kind you get in a place you’re not meant to be, exposed among strangers.
When the metal security door creaks open, Ken steps out, his face lighting up with unmistakable relief. Somehow, that look is enough to settle me a little. He makes this place feel different from the others, like it might actually be safe here.
His voice is steady, reassuring as he says, “Thank goodness. You listen well, doll face.”
“I think I’m going to call her little lamb,” Amy says, passing me as though I’m a drink or object, off to Ken. “Gonna grab Cedric to look at your car.” She looks up to Ken. “Get her some water.”
Her gaze pulls back to mine briefly, and she gives me a head nod before whistling. “Cedric, get your cock out of your hand and get outside now!”
Ken’s hand on my shoulder is steady as he directs me down a narrow hallway into an open living area. The tan carpet, worn and stained in places, sprawls across the room, grounding the space that’s cluttered with mismatched couches in faded shades. Oddly, it feels fitting, adding a sense of warmth I hadn’t anticipated. I half-expected stale air, but instead the room hums with life, filled with the faint scent of cigarette smoke, lingering barbecue, and an air freshener well past its prime.
He leads me further into the house, navigating around the random furniture, and past walls blanketed in photos that blur as we move. I can’t focus on any of them; I’m too dazed to catch the details, but the sense of family and memories here is unmistakable.
The kitchen comes into view now. Brown cabinets line the walls, and white countertops match the appliances—it's almost identical to the cabin’s kitchen before it was torn apart. My gaze lands on a large, round dining table that feels oversized for the space, crammed with seven seats around it. I realize I’ve likely only met a fraction of the people who live here. Then my eyes catch something unexpected: a booster seat tucked among the chairs.
“Sit, Calista, I’ll get you some water. Are you hungry?” It was going to be dinner by the time I got home, but the last thing I can think about right now is food.
Shaking my head, I sit and slightly huddle forward.
“Water it is.”
I dig out my phone from my back pocket and place it onto the table, looking at the screen that only has a few social media notifications. I want to call Ronan so badly, to ask where he is and to hear him tell me that I’m going to be okay.
A glass slides across the table, and I can’t help but chuckle at it being a worn-down cartoon cup. “Need to do the dishes, sorry, you’ll be sharing with Mia.”
“That’s my favorite.” A young girl’s voice pulls my attention downward. Her bright hazel eyes that are slightly slanted stare straight up at me. Black hair that’s cut right at her shoulders bounces as she crosses her arms. “Don’t take it.”
“I… won’t. Can I use it while I’m here?” My voice lowers, as though I’m afraid to be too loud.
“Yes, but only if you tell me your name.” Her lips pout out, as if I’d tell her no and she’s ready to argue with me.
“Calista, but my friends call me Cal.”
A wide smile spreads across her face, lighting up her eyes. “That’s such a pretty name. Alright, you can use it.” She winks, making me feel a little more at ease in this unfamiliar place.
I mirror her smile as I take a sip, feeling a little bit of my guard drop. She pulls out the seat next to mine—not the one with the booster seat—and I find myself wondering if there are more kids here.
“How old are you?” I ask, honestly so grateful for this distraction.
“Ten.” Not that she lookedanythinglike Ronan, but my stupid heart needed confirmation of it. He was in prison for the past fifteen years and couldn’t have a kid then.
Shut up, Cal…
“You?” Mia asks.
