Page 36 of Burned

The date is a gut punch.

The air leaves my body.

Blaze looks at Bayne, a Scot and not a New Yorker, filling him in.

“It’s old footage. This is the street perpendicular to the one the warehouse was on.

The date is the date of the fire. We think this is Isobel. Escaping.”

My stomach drops to the floor.

It’s her.

Escaping the fire.

Alive.

All this time.

And I’m still trapped in the flames.

Hating myself for not saving her.

The room is silent.

I feel Erin watching me and gauging my reaction.

I finally look at her fully.

Mistake.

Her face is composed, but I know every inch of that face now. I know the difference between calm and shutdown. This is Erin sealing herself into her corner of safety.

I move before I decide to.

Around the table. To her chair. To stand behind her.

She’s right.

It’s emotional warfare.

And I’m shit at fighting a war I can’t see.

Her eyes lift only when I stand beside her.

I place my hand on her shoulder. To feel her warmth. To anchor me. To tie me to her.

It’s all I can give at the moment, but it is enough.

She lifts her hand, placing it over mine with a squeeze.

Her own claim.

A comfort.

A warning to every man in this room that whatever ghosts have stepped from the ashes, she will not be going anywhere.

Her wordless proclamation stirs in my chest, my core. I rub her shoulder.