Page 78 of Collins
A FEW HOURS EARLIER
All I see is red.
It follows me the entire drive back to my old stomping grounds. A place I’ve tried not to return to, not like this. Not when the memories come whether I want them to or not. They live in every corner here, in every street and shadow, whispering reminders of my parents. Not that I don’t want to remember them; I do. God, I do.
But Laken is home now. There, I get to choose when I let the past in. Like when I ride in the woods Dad and I used to visit, stand beneath those trees, and let the memories come gently.
Here, I don’t get that choice.
Here, they ambush me.
My heart pounds so hard it feels like it might split my ribs. I couldn’t say how fast I’m driving, only that it isn’t fast enough. Every second stretches thin, unbearable, as one name repeats in my mind like a drumbeat.
Lee.
That’s my destination.
I haven’t seen his wretched face in years. For all I know, he could be halfway across the world by now. For his sake, he better hope that’s true. Because if he’s here…
I don’t know what I’ll do. And that’s the most dangerous part.
I turn onto the first street of our old subdivision, and my lungs squeeze, air exiting in a sharp, painful rush. Each breath shallow, my whole body trembles. This place is an unwanted reminder of what used to be. Steph, Lee, and their parents lived just a block over. That’s where I’m headed. Grasping at the thin hope that someone, anyone, is still there and can tell me where to find him.
But the moment I round the corner, hope turns into something else entirely.
My chest seizes.
An old red pickup sits in the driveway.
No fucking way.
I’d know that truck anywhere. It’s the last thing I remember him driving all those years ago. The same chipped paint, the same rust along the edges. It hasn’t changed.
Which means…
He might not have either.
I pull in behind the old S10, barely stopped before I’m out of the truck. My feet move on their own, carrying me straight to the front door before my mind has time to produce rational thoughts. Before it can warn me, stop me, save me.
Too late now.
I stomp up the steps, each footfall heavier than the last, my heartbeat thundering louder with every rise. By the time I reach the porch, it’s all I can hear. My pulse, deep breaths…
Rage.
Raising a fist, I pound on the door.
Sharp, frantic barking that claws at my already frayed nerves erupts from the other side of the door. A woman’s voice cuts through, snapping at them to get back, to settle down. The handle rattles and the door creaks open.
And suddenly, I’m staring straight into the past. Just not the past I was expecting.
“Steph?”
She’s older; of course she is. Time has etched faint lines into her face, hardened most of the soft edges. Her eyes are different too. Sadder. Dimmer than I remember. But it’s still her. Unmistakably.
In her arms, she clutches a tiny Chihuahua that looks more like a rat than dog; its beady eyes locked on me like it has some sort of personal vendetta against me. Steph slips the cigarette from her fingers to her lips, bending to set the dog down. It scurries past me, heading into the yard, sniffing for a place to take a leak.
She straightens, plucks the cigarette from between her lips, and exhales a slow plume of smoke into the air above her before speaking.
