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Sitting in the front seat of the black SUV, I watched as the local volunteer fire department worked tirelessly to stem the raging flames that engulfed my family home.
I could have told them that there was nothing to be done.
It was gone.
I had nothing left of my parents.
It all went up in smoke.
Not one single picture, not one memento, not even momma’s handkerchief I kept under my pillow at night.
It was all gone.
Mr. Montclair and his friends stood talking with the local sheriff, watching the cabin burn.
What was I going to do now?
Where were we going to live?
How was I going to take care of Cameron? He was just a little boy. The only clothes he had left he was wearing, and they were filthy. He didn’t even have shoes on his feet.
“Skylar?”
Turning, I saw Scribe leaning against the driver’s side door. “They’re almost done here. Pyro is giving the sheriff the club’s information so he can get hold of you if needed. We will be leaving soon. Do you need anything?”
I shook my head. “I wouldn’t know what to ask for, Scribe.”
“It’s going to be okay, sweetheart. Bailey, Sarah and Beth are buying everything you two might need. King has already got rooms set up for the both of you at the clubhouse. Everything is going to be okay. I promise.”
“You can’t promise that,” I whispered. “No one can.”
“True, but I can promise that it will get better. I know it doesn’t seem like it right now, but everything happens for a reason, Skylar. Don’t give up yet, sweet girl. Good things are coming your way.”
I smirked at that. “You are the optimist of the group, aren’t you?”
Scribe grinned, then winked before heading back to the others.
The drive from Juniper Hollow to Rosewood, Virginia, took about six hours. It was a beautiful drive and long, thanks to Cameron’s refusal to shut up. My brother talked the whole way, driving not only me, but Mr. Montclair crazy. Of course, it didn’t help that Scribe and Frank encouraged my brother. Priest seemed to be the only one immune to Cameron’s jibber-jabber, because he slept the entire way.
“Does he ever shut up?” I heard Mr. Montclair mutter.
Looking over at him, I shook my head.
“Only when he’s sleeping.”
“And how do we make him do that?”
I shrugged. “No clue. My mom was wonderful at making him sleep.”
“Too bad she didn’t tell you her trick.”
Turning around to face my brother, I smiled. “Cameron, let’s play the quiet game. The one who can be quiet the longest will win a special prize.”
“What prize?”
“I don’t know. Something special.”
“Ain’t playing until I know what I’m gonna win,” my brother huffed, crossing his arms across his chest.
