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There’s no one left alive who would care enough about that Stop & Shop to set it on fire.

Except one man … Brandon Locklear.

So I park my car across the street and jump out, barely remembering to lock it before running to the other end of the street. My lungs can’t carry me fast enough across the pavement, and my legs almost give out as I try to skip the steps leading up to the shop. When I burst into the door, I’m greeted by smoke and fire. The flames lick the door and windows, the smoke darkening the room. Coughing, I make my way inside.

I don’t know what I’m doing. I’m out of my mind to go straight into a building on fire. It could collapse at any moment, crushing me underneath it. But it’s not just me I’m worried about here.

He’s inside.

I’m sure of it.

So I wade through the soot and avoid the flames as best as I can. With a piece of my shirt, I protect my mouth and nose while trying to breathe. It’s almost impossible to see anything, but one thing lights up the area.

A tiny flame in the middle of the ravaged shop.

Like a moth being drawn to the light, I move toward it.

And in this scorching heat, I find the only person on this planet who has managed to defrost my ice-cold heart.

Chapter Forty-One

Brandon

This is my final ode to my papa. A beautiful annihilation of the wounds that should’ve never existed. Wounds I caused. Wounds I carry until this very day. And I will take them to my grave.

My time on this earth is over. I’ve had enough.

No one needs to hurt anymore. Not because of me.

I close my eyes and let it all happen. I know it’ll be an agonizing death, but I deserve every single inch of the excruciating pain to come. It’s a small price to pay for all the suffering I’ve caused. The stinging on my back isn’t so bad when I compare it to the heat of the fire that’s about to engulf me.

Suddenly, something wraps around my neck, ensnaring me from behind.

I open my eyes as someone whispers into my ear, “Don’t do this. Please. You gotta live. For me.”

My heart almost beats out of my chest. Dixie. Is she really here? Or are the flames messing with my head.

The grip grows tighter as it turns and shifts to the front, and I feel a pressure on my legs. Something … or someone … sits down on my lap.

Only when the smoke disappears for just a moment do I realize it’s really her.

“Dixie,” I mumble.

She’s really here in the flesh.

“Yes, it’s me,” she says, cupping my face. Her eyes tear up. “I’m here.”

“Dixie, I thought I’d never see you again,” I mutter, coughing from the smoke surrounding us.

“Why are you doing this?” she asks, her voice straining.

“I …” I can’t even answer that question without feeling incredibly humbled. “The world is better off without me and without this shop.”

She leans back, staring at me while tears run down her face.

SLAP.

I touch my face where it stings. Ouch. That hurt. But not as much as the look on her face.

“Brandon Locklear, stop this fucking bullshit right now,” she says, shaking me by the shoulders.

Damn, she truly is a potty mouth for sure.

“You’re better than this,” she says. “Don’t fucking do this.”

It hurts me to say this. “I have to.”

“Why?” she asks.

“There’s too much pain here,” I reply, lowering my head.

With a single finger, she tips my chin up. “There are better ways to deal with pain.”

“Not mine.” I take her hand and push it down. “Others.”

“You wanna die because you made other people suffer? Bullshit,” she snaps, then coughs from the smoke. She gets up from my lap and attempts to grab my hands, but I won’t budge.

“Leave me, Dixie,” I say. “Go. I don’t want you to die too.”

“No!” she yells, still tugging as hard as she can.

I don’t understand why she doesn’t just give up.

What’s there to save? I’ve done nothing but horrible things. I don’t deserve the life my papa gave me. All I’ve caused is ruin. It should end with me.

“No, you do not give up. Do you hear me? Do not fucking give up!” she yells, despite the fact her voice is crippled by the smoke entering her lungs. “Not after everything we’ve been through!”

But that’s just it. It’s all because of what I did.

I ruined her life. Why won’t she just give up on me?

She won’t stop until it’s too late, until even she can’t escape the fire anymore. I won’t let it happen. I love her too much.

“Dixie! Get out of here before it’s too late,” I say, looking her directly in the eyes. “Please.” I’m begging her right now. Pleading with her heart and soul to run away from the fire I started so she won’t burn down with it.

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