Page 21 of Scarred Trust

“What if you’re just a mirage?” I hesitated to look.

“What if I just tickle you until you open your eyes?” I peeked, though I was afraid that he’d somehow just disappear. He was squatting in front of me. His crooked smile and his sparkling eyes were almost laughing. There was something beyond it I couldn't define. I couldn't hold back. I launched into him. We tumbled over onto the ground. He held me tight as I kissed all over his face and listened to him laugh freely, deeply, down to his belly.

“Get a room,” Gran teased.

“Come on, you two, we still have work to do. You can play later.” Dad clapped his hands, getting the attention of everyone who remained. Wes sat on the curb and pulled me into his lap.

“All right, so here's the plan: we need to board up the windows and make sure everything's locked up. Trina, I want you and Wes in the office to clear it out. Box up everything you can. We'll store those in the garage at the house. I'm assuming you heard Captain Cole mention that the staircase came down, which means we can't get any of your stuff out of your apartment.”

“It's okay, Dad. Wes got a bunch of things out for me before we left. I have enough for a few days, and I think I still have some clothes at your house.”

“You could move in with me,” Wes whispered in my ear.

“You know that's not gonna work, both of us living with our parents.”

“Okay, but maybe you could at least stay the night tonight?”

“I think that could be arranged, except it's daytime.”

“You know what I mean. I just need to hold you for a while.”

Packing the office took longer than I expected, using as many various boxes as we could get our hands on. Dad, with the help of the staff, had boarded up the broken windows and the front doors.

Walking through Duffy's was disheartening. So much had been destroyed. Everything my parents had put into renovating it, and all the sacrifices we had made to meet the demands for Duffy's being part of the gentrification of the area, was in ashes.

The saddest part to me was the antique bar that had been standing there since the days when Duffy’s had been a saloon in the Red Light District. We could rebuild it, but it wouldn't be the same. The hardest part was going to be finding the funds to start over.

“It's a good thing that the insurance premium was covered, isn't it, Trina?” Gran, once again reading my thoughts, gives me the spark of hope I needed.

“The other good news is it looks like after the inspector comes through, we can put a ladder up and get your stuff out of your room.” Wes was coming to my rescue again.

“The fire didn't reach it?”

“From what I can tell, we got it stopped before we got up there. It might smell smoky, though.”

“All right, you two are off duty now. How about you put those boxes in your dad's car and go spend some alone time?”

“Do you think it's okay?” I was talking to Gran, but I heard Mom and Dad answer,

“Absolutely! We all need to get some rest.”

“Wes, we can’t thank you enough for all you’ve done, but particularly for keeping our girl safe.”

“You don’t have to thank me for that. There’s nothing more important to me.” he hugged me tightly to his side. I heard a crack in his voice, but it didn’t show in his face. Maybe it’s from the smoke or yelling orders to the crew. I made a mental note to ask him about it later.

“Do you want to go do something?” Pushing away thoughts of the pub, I felt like a kid on summer vacation without my jobs pulling me in opposite directions and the weight of the legal case off our shoulders.

“Are you tired? You might need to sleep.” Wes moved the boxes around in my father’s trunk, like a game of blocks to get them all to fit.

“Me? I think I got more than you did.” We hadn’t had the chance to talk about the fire and how he had known so quickly about it. I suspected he hadn’t slept.

“I'm pretty keyed up. What if we get a cup of coffee and take a walk?” He started down the street before I had a chance to answer.

“It won't be as good as my coffee, but it sounds like a plan.” I caught up with him and slipped my hand into his, grateful for a squeeze of acknowledgement.

“I'm not sure anything is as good as your coffee, especially sitting on a stainless steel table and feeling your soft skin under my fingers.” I clutched his shirt and moved closer, the memory of that morning tingling through my body.

“It might be a while until we can recreate that scene.” I was practically climbing him, thinking of ways we could get inventive with our new living circumstances.