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“Tell me what happened to your father, did he get caught? Is he in prison too?” Grimm shakes his head back at me.
“I buried him in those woods when I was sixteen.” His eyes glance toward the tree line about half a mile behind the house. I can’t hide my shock, and the way he’s looking back at me proves he isn’t surprised by it.
“I thought you said you never killed him?”
“I didn’t kill him. Mama killed him.”
“Your Mama!” My voice lifts a few decimals. I can’t believe what I’m hearing, the sweet woman who I sit drinking lemonade with and talk to about flowers being capable of murder seems too far-fetched.
“I came home from school one day and found her with a knife in her hand. She’d found out about the women he killed and I guess she just lost her shit.”
“That’s kinda kick-ass,” I snigger, before realizing how incredibly insensitive I’m being, again.
“Sorry.” I lower my head, but Grimm quickly lifts it back up again with his finger.
“Never apologize for being you.” He stares back at me intensely with those dark punishing eyes. And I realize that regardless of what happened to bring us here, me and him were created for each other.
“Mama doesn’t remember anything about that day, she’s got some form of dissociative amnesia, and it seems to have triggered some Alzheimer's traits too, she forgets silly things that could cause her harm. I've never had her diagnosed professionally, but I've spent a lot of time researching it. I pay the home for their silence, so she can stay in the world that she’s created for herself. She had a bad day yesterday, I went in and I said some shit I shouldn't have.” Grimm looks disappointed in himself.
“You need to stop beating yourself up about stuff. What your father did to those women, and to your Mama, you were a victim of it too. Look at all you’ve done to protect her, none of this is your fault. And you’re doing the best you can for her.”
“I should have been the one who killed him, I look back and think about how many times I thought about doing it. But I wasn’t strong enough, I was too scared. If I’d have just been brave enough, I’d still have Mama with me.”
“You were sixteen years old, you shouldn’t be blaming yourself, you were a child.” I can hear my tone changing because all this is making me so angry. I could stomp into those woods, dig up that motherfucker and spit on his skeleton for what he’s done to Grimm.
“So were you. You were just a kid when your dad let his friends hurt you,” he growls at me. “And yet you protect him, I already know you're not gonna let me hurt him.”
“I can’t argue that right now. I haven’t figured out how I feel about it myself yet. And if I think about it for too long I know I’ll fall apart.” It makes me feel weak and helpless to admit that, but with Grimm, I’m not scared to let my guard down anymore.
“So what we gonna do with this place? It’s riddled with shit memories. If your mama still owns it, you should sell it.”
“I tell myself every time I come here that I should burn the place to the fucking ground.” He kicks up some dirt with his boot, and makes a sad laugh.
“That’s exactly what you should do.” I take his hand in mine. “Set fire to your past right here, and we’ll move on together.”
“You’re crazy, you know that?” He looks up at me, and despite all the heavy shit he’s just told me, he’s smiling, and I nod back at him before I kiss him.
“Come on, there should be some gasoline in the shed.” Grimm takes my hand and leads me around the back of the house. I wait outside while he fumbles around, then eventually comes out with a can in one hand and retakes my hand with the other.
Marching us back to the front of the house, he starts to douse the front porch. His face holding such a strong determination as he shakes the can, pouring it over the broken swing chair and covering as much space as he can before it runs out.
“You know you could probably sell this place for a fortune, this location, and all this land.” I check he’s sure before he strikes the match.
“I got everything I need at the club, and I got you. This place can fall to ash.” He takes one last look at the house before he flicks the lit match at the porch. It doesn’t take long for the flames to grow, spreading rapidly around the house and giving off so much heat that we have to take a few more paces back.
Grimm looks tranced as he stares into the flames, and I watch the orange and red flares brighten his dark pupils before I rest my head on his shoulder and watch them destroy.
“You think you’ll go for that visit and ask your father for the truth?” he asks, lighting himself a cigarette, then placing his hand over where mine rests on his chest. And I realize that I have all I need now too. I’ve let Grimm into my life, I’ve even let his club in a little too. Skid’s come back, and I got a real chance of being happy if I wanna be.
I don’t need to know the truth, it’s not gonna change the past.
Reaching into my back pocket, I take out the visiting order that I’ve been carrying with me since Grimm gave it back to me. And moving forward, I feel the heat of the fire warm my face as I toss it toward the house. Then I step back and watch the paper crumple, and disappear into flames.
Grimm pulls me back and snatches a fist of my hair, his mouth consuming mine in that way that makes me forget anything bad ever existed.
“Let’s get out of here,” he says with the most perfect fuckin’ smile I’ve ever seen.
“Yeah.” I smile back at him, letting him lead me back to his bike. The engine rumbles, and I hold on to him tight as we leave the blaze behind us and head back to the compound.
