Page 24 of Firefly Embers

There were days I woke up, having gotten a fitful night’s sleep, and dreaded the day ahead, knowing what lay on the other side. Nights when I wished that when I closed my eyes, they wouldn’t reopen. Moments when, in the silence, all I can hear is the crack of that gun as it stripped me of the one thing I held closest to my heart.

I wouldn’t wish this life on anyone because it wasn’t a life. It was a death sentence, and I was a walking, talking corpse.

“You don’t know shit,” I repeated, softening my words until they were almost a whisper.

“I may not know how you’re feeling, but I know you. And this version, standing in front of me? That’s not the brother I know and love. Above all else, that’s not the brother Ma and Pops raised.”

His words hit home, and I dropped my head in defeat. Ma would have killed me for talking to Stella the way I had. She had always taught us the importance of respecting women.

“Here’s the problem, Max—that man, the man you all knew and loved? I don’t think he exists anymore.”

I could feel the wetness dripping off my chin, and I avoided wiping it away. I didn’t lift my head and give Max the satisfaction of knowing how his words had affected me, but he knew. We always knew.

He stepped closer, extending a finger and pointing it at my chest. The sharp jab was enough to push me backward against the wall. He flicked up the brim of my hat, forcing me to meet his gaze as his words decimated me.

“You may not think he exists here,” he said, tapping his finger on my temple. “But he sure as hell still exists here.”

His finger poked me square in the heart, a direct shot to my emotions. I hung my head in shame, adjusting my hat back over my brow.

With the final blow having been dealt and me properly chastised, he sauntered back into the bar like he hadn’t just served me my ass on a silver platter.

RAY

Shortly after Max came back in, with a wild look of fury etched onto his face, he and Stella said their goodbyes. She hugged me tightly and promised to bring Charlie by over the weekend since I hadn’t seen her since the wedding. Max gave me a one-armed side hug that was tense and stilted, but I commended him for trying.

I paid my tab and walked outside in search of the buzzkill who had made a fool of himself on what was supposed to be a fun night out.

Wade’s outburst had sobered us up quickly, and no one could find it in themselves to continue on with the night. He had effectively doused the entire outing with a bucket of ice-cold water.

I popped by the table my sister was sitting at, hanging out with a bunch of her rodeo friends, and placed a quick kiss on her cheek. She barely acknowledged me, lost in a heated conversation with some of the guys seated around her.

Walking out the door, it didn’t take me long to find him. He was sitting on the ground, leaning ‌back against the brick wall on the side of the bar. His Stetson was pulled down low, shielding everyone from seeing his face. He had his knees bent and was resting his elbows on top of them, his head hung forward in a clear posture of defeat.

Instead of sitting down next to him, knowing I wasn’t properly dressed for anything that required bending, I leaned against the wall beside him, standing in silent companionship.

The night was cooling off, with the sounds of chirping crickets the soundtrack of the season. Even though we were in the main part of town, it was quiet.

Neither ‌of us said anything for what felt like forever, just listening to the sounds around us and reveling in the cool evening air as it washed over our skin.

“I can’t do this, Ray.” His soft voice was barely perceptible over the sounds of the night, but I heard him.

The words coming from his mouth felt like an icy trail of dread coursing through my veins, freezing me to the spot.

The fact that he had called me Ray instead of his usual Sunshine spoke volumes about the pain and anguish swirling around his mind. I felt tears well up on my lashes, threatening to fall.

I didn’t bother responding, letting him work out the kinks of his emotions in his mind. Neither ‌of us was good at vocalizing the hard things, but somehow, we understood each other in our times of need.

He stood, dusting his jeans of the tiny pebbles of dirt and concrete that clung to them. He took off his hat, setting it on the tailgate of his truck. I didn’t get why we were sitting on the grimy ground instead of in his truck, which was parked right there, but I didn’t dare question him.

His long hair fell in gentle waves, skimming the strong lines of his jaw. I stopped myself from reaching out and brushing my fingers through the dark blond strands.

Wade paced the length of the side alley of Jack’s, almost as if the rage that was building inside of him prevented him from staying still. He gave the impression of a caged animal, stuck inside the confines of his mind.

“I’m just so fucking angry!” He snapped, causing me to flinch at his sudden outburst.

He punctuated his words by kicking the gravel with his booted foot and threading his fingers through his hair, pulling tightly on the strands.

I didn’t need him to tell me in words that he was angry; I could feel it in the way he moved, breathed, and existed. He was wound tight, his movements stiff and stilted as he continued his relentless pacing.