Page 7 of From the Embers
Long before he’d worn Dolce and Gabbana suits and started driving a Porsche, Rob and I had grown up together, playing pickup basketball at the park while our parents worked late to keep food on the table. He’d made fun of me when I found an old keyboard at a yard sale and spent hours teaching myself piano in high school. He’d also given me hell when I began singing and writing my own music. But once I started gigging in college, he became my biggest fan.
The summer after our second year at the University of Georgia, Rob borrowed his grandmother’s decrepit ’92 minivan and booked my very first tour. Okay, the so-called “tour” consisted of fifteen open-mic nights around the state, many of which had Rob and the bartender as the only faces in the audience, but dammit, that was the summer I truly discovered what I wanted to do with the rest of my life.
Not long after, I dropped out of college and threw myself into writing and playing anywhere that would have me, and my album Solstice in the ’92 was born.
Rob had always believed in me, even when I was ready to throw in the towel. Which was exactly why I side-stepped the truth when he finished bitching about a new guy he’d hired at Prism and asked, “So, how are you really feeling about selling the songs?”
Avoiding eye contact, I swirled the Scotch in my glass. “It’s good for the family.”
“And what about what’s good for you?”
I shrugged. “There’s been a lot of what’s good for me happening the last few years. It’s not my turn anymore.”
His lips thinned, a motivational speech no doubt poised on the tip of his tongue. I wasn’t in the mood though. This was supposed to be a night of fun and freedom. A few hours of laughs to distract us all from the real world.
Or, in my case, drown them in a bottle.
“Let’s go find the ladies. Jess and I have a game of Pictionary to win.”
He barked a laugh, clearly reading my escape. But Rob being Rob, he didn’t call me on it.
Just like in the game of life, Jessica and I lost the first round. I had a strong suspicion Bree was either cheating or had become a telepath. There was no way she got apple picking from Rob drawing a damn tree that honestly looked more like a shrub, not a single fruit in sight. It did make for some good old-fashioned trash talk and upped the ante for round two, so I let it slide.
“Walking. Floating. Doing magic!” Jessica yelled.
“No. This.” I stabbed the marker at the very skillfully drawn stick figure jumping rope.
Bree giggled from the couch as my Pictionary-challenged wife threw her hands up in the air.
“I don’t know! Draw something else.”
Grabbing Jessica’s arm, I dragged her closer to the board as if the three feet between us were somehow distorting her vision. “This. This thing.” I pointed at the jump rope.
“No talking!” Rob chided, holding the tiny hourglass to his face, already smiling in victory, waiting for the last grain to fall.
Ignoring him, I cleared the frustration from my voice. “Baby, sweetie, honey, look at the—”
That was all I got out before time expired on us all.
With a deafening boom, the entire house exploded.
I didn’t remember falling, but in the next blink, I was on the floor, covered in debris. My ears rang and my vision blurred as I fought to gain my bearings, but nothing made sense. As I rolled to my back, the ceiling was wide open, insulation and wires hanging, flames covering the support beams like lightning streaking the sky.
“Shit,” I breathed, gripping my head as though I could manually slow my thoughts. “Jes—” I coughed, smoke scorching a path down my throat. “Jessica.” Suddenly, a single terrifying thought pierced through my foggy brain. “Luna!” I sat bolt upright.
No. Wait.
I shook my head again, memories flooding my subconscious. Luna wasn’t there. She was at… Fuck.
“Rob! Bree!”
It was eerily silent.
No cries.
No screams.
No pleas for help.
And in that second, it might have been the most terrifying sound of all.
Desperation collided with a surge of adrenaline in my veins. With a strained groan, I managed to climb to my feet. Heat licked at my face as I staggered to catch my balance amongst the wreckage. It was somehow simultaneously dark and yet blindingly bright. In the shadows of the dancing flames, I made out the empty space where the couch Bree and Rob had been sitting on had once been.
It was gone.
Everything was fucking gone.
“Jessica!” I roared into the nothingness. She’d been standing right in front of me. She couldn’t have fallen far. Panic engulfed me and I dropped my knees, frantically digging through the rubble. Blood poured from my hands as broken pieces of God only knew what slashed through my skin.
