Page 108 of Anchored to the Storm

He howled his agony into my stomach.

I accepted all his pent-up pain and realized that, sometimes, even leaders need a chance to break down.

The morning sun exposed a grisly scene. And a destroyed young man. I was done with both. Ducking down, I put a shoulder under Maddox’s arm, wrapped it around me so I could grab his hand, then stood, demanding he come with me. My friend had been growing and gaining weight before he left and had continued to do so while gone. Not that it stopped me. With a determined grunt, I got him to his feet.

I think he slurred an apology before his head lethargically rested on the top of mine.

Four sets of mature eyes watched as I led Maddox toward his grandmother’s front door. I told them, “You must be as tired as he is, but Bluebell is not to see that.” I chinned in the direction of the shed.

All four heads nodded.

Styx promised, “Not a trace will be left.”

“Thank you.”

Stepping inside, Finn, Gage, and Seb woke and jumped up. Horror crossed their faces as their eyes scanned the wrecked young man that I was keeping on his feet.

I had no time to explain. Only direct.

Whispering, I said, “Seb, Bluebell is to stay inside.” He nodded. “Finn, Gage, get control of your stomach’s limits and help our rescuers outside. I don’t think they’ve slept in over two days.”

Maddox and I were making our way to the bathroom when Ethan exited the bedroom. He stopped rubbing his sleepy eyes when he caught a glimpse of the blood and gore. I didn’t give him a chance to ask questions. “I need a garbage bag.”

As I guided a very heavy Maddox into the bathroom, Ethan slipped past us, heading toward the kitchen. Balancing the half-asleep body attached to mine, I started the shower. “Maybe she can touch your wounded soul.”

Ethan returned, looking spooked. He watched but said nothing.

From over the arm hanging around my shoulders, I told Ethan, “He’s okay, I promise. Can you close the door and help me remove his shirt?”

After shutting the door, he came forward, reaching out, timid about where to touch Maddox.

That’s when I realized I needed to clarify, “It’s not his blood. A certain threat is gone, and I want him off our friend.”

Ethan mouthed, Oh shit, and stepped into high gear, removing the soaked sweatshirt and a leather holster. I wasn’t sure why he stilled when seeing Maddox’s bare back, but understood when he whispered in my ear, “He’s the one who took a bullet for you today.”

I went utterly still. It came back to me. A rifle. The pastor pointing it at me. As it fired, a blur raced toward me from the right. Then his face floated past me, smiling endearingly, ‘Missed you, Sarah’. Arms wrapped around me and took me to the ground⁠—

My body and mind asked to slip away again.

I told them no.

Then I peered up at the one I was practically carrying. “Thank you.”

His eyes were closed, but he whispered, “Love you, girl.”

He did. He had shown that throughout the years, endlessly. That’s why my throat tightened. I wanted to cry but feared if I started, I wouldn’t know how to stop.

Instead, I said, “Ethan.”

“Anything.”

“Help me take care of him.”

Together, we stripped away the rest of the soiled clothing, wishing we could take away all his sorrow and throw it in a garbage bag with his clothes.

Ethan and I helped Maddox into the shower. He could barely lift his limbs, so we helped with those, too.

Guiding him under the spray, blood instantly began to blend with the water in the tub and around his feet. Maddox stared at the drain, at the blood’s dance.