Gabe’s hold on his glass was so tight I thought it might shatter as a lead weight settled in my gut. My father wouldn’t be happy until we destroyed each other.
* * *
We werequiet as I guided my SUV down the mountain roads toward town, both lost in our thoughts after a dinner that felt more like a battle. Gabe had launched snide blow after snide blow that I’d tried to ignore while my father watched the show with glee.
“Is it always like that?” Grae asked softly.
My fingers tightened on the wheel. “Pretty much.”
“I don’t know how you keep going back.”
I wasn’t sure anymore either. “I can’t leave my mom to deal with them.”
I felt Grae’s gaze on me in the darkened vehicle. “She gets scattered when they start getting mean.”
“It’s her way of trying to shove down the pain of her family falling apart.”
“I want to junk-punch your dad and brother.”
I choked on a laugh. “I don’t blame you.”
Grae was quiet for a moment. “If you walked away from this, you could still have a relationship with your mom.”
My ribs constricted. “I can’t let go of The Peaks. Clara loved it too much. Always wanted to preserve it for generations to come. And I can’t lose my role in helping Mom with the foundation. It’s the one thing that gives the pain of Clara’s loss purpose.”
“Do you really think your dad would shut you out of Clara’s foundation just because you left the company?”
“I wouldn’t put it past him.”
Grae sighed. “I hate how much he controls you.”
“I don’t love it either.”
Her gaze bored into me. “Just think about looking elsewhere. Think about how it would feel to finally be free.”
Freedom was such a foreign concept. One that wouldn’t be in my grasp until my father died—probably not even then.
I reached over and laid my hand over Grae’s. “I’ll think about it.”
I turned onto Grae’s street and instantly hit the brakes. Lights on fire trucks and police cars flashed in the dark. People filled the street. And flames danced in the air.
“My house,” Grae gasped.
It was completely engulfed in flames.
19
GRAE
This wasn’t happening.The image in front of me couldn’t be real. Flames twisted and danced against the backdrop of an inky-black sky.
“My house,” I whispered.
Caden quickly pulled to the side of the street and parked. The moment the SUV stopped, I jumped out, rushing toward the crowd. Caden cursed, jogging to catch up.
Clint, one of the officers who worked with Nash and Lawson, stepped into my path. “Whoa. You can’t go up there.”
“I-it’s my house,” I stammered as if that would explain it all. The home I’d worked so hard to build for myself. Growing up with wealth had given me so many advantages, but the combination of that and my Type 1 diagnosis had made me determined to stand on my own two feet. I’d worked my ass off to save up the deposit for this place. Even harder to afford to fix it up and decorate it. And now it was going up in smoke. Literally.
