Page 26 of Studfinder

Instantly, I knew how it looked. I was running around a burning building. The boys were gone. When I was brought in for questioning a few days later, I was caught on the schoolyard cameras on both the side of the building and the back. There was no sight of the boys near the football field.

“Uncle Jake.” My name rings out in the quiet darkness of the lone street, and I turn to find Rory racing after me.

“Jake, I—” Out of breath, he stops running and bends at the knees. “I-just. Give me a minute.” He lifts a finger to signify a pause.

“Need to work on your stamina if you’re getting married, kid,” I bitterly tease.

Rory stands to his full height, which matches mine. He’s broader than me, huskier like my brother once was, but it’s evident we are related. We all share the same dark brown hair, the same cut to how we stand with our shoulders hunched forward, same tilt to our heads when we speak.

“About that.” He exhales. “Nothing was held back to hurt your feelings. We just thought it would be better to let you settle into one thing at a time.” His voice even sounds like my brother, rough and low, with a hint of ease underneath it. I’d like to accuse him of having an easy life, but after I went to prison, I know he didn’t. He was suddenly raising his father, and my bitterness falls back to Nolan. He’s always being taken care of.

Turning away from Rory, I continue forward on my path, needing the fresh nighttime air. Rory falls into step beside me. He isn’t wearing a jacket, and his hands slip into his jean pockets. We walk in silence for the rest of the block and turn toward town.

“Should we talk about it?” Rory questions. “I know what you did.”

I stop, but Rory takes another step forward before turning to face me. “You went to jail for me, didn’t you?”

“Rory.” I sigh. What can I say?

“We didn’t mean for it to happen.” He pauses to exhale. “We were stupid kids.”

“I know you didn’t mean it.” A stray firework? The fire didn’t make sense. It didn’t add up. However, I wasn’t allowed to investigate the scene because I was accused of the crime. “And I’m not even convinced you did anything to that building.”

“I’m still so sorry, Uncle Jake.”

When I’d been arrested, I wasn’t in a good state of mind. My brother was in the hospital with a major injury, still in a medically induced coma to ease his pain. Rory was full of guilt, but I told him not to mention anything to anyone until I could learn more. Then I was arrested.

“And I’m sorry for Mr. Sanders,” I say. Someone had been in the building after all.

“I know.” Rory exhales. “I liked Mr. Sanders.” Liking him won’t bring him back to life, though, and the man lost his life that night. The principal was in the high school for some reason. The best summation was he smelled smoke and investigated on his own. I didn’t understand why the fire alarm didn’t trip until deeper investigation showed the alarm system had been tampered with. It didn’t make sense. The principal’s body was found in the wreckage.

“I still don’t understand how a single firework could have set the building on fire. We didn’t even hear a window break.”

The investigation claimed the fire began in the chemistry lab. Chemicals within the lab ignited. A firework was never mentioned, but something sparked the blaze.

“I never thought it was a firework,” I admit. I wasn’t able to prove otherwise, but a stray firework still didn’t make sense to me. Deep down, I’d always wondered if my conviction had all been part of some bigger plan. The state was mandating cuts in civil services, including fire prevention. They didn’t believe an arson investigator was necessary. Let a regular fireman handle the cases as if it were that simple. The number of full-time firepersons was on the chopping block, cutting back chiefs which were the only paid position in the department. The state believed volunteers would be enough for our smaller community firehouses, suggesting they could run themselves and solve their own mysteries.

Taking a deep breath, I look at my nephew. He has an innocent face with a permanent expression of curiosity. Nolan and I always knew he’d amount to more than us. We wanted him to be more. At seventeen, almost eighteen, he would begin his senior year that fall. If he had started that blaze, he’d be tried as an adult, and his future would have been ruined. I couldn’t do that to Rory, and I couldn’t do that to Nolan.

Upon my arrest, Nolan needed Rory more than anything, and I couldn’t strip my brother of his son.

My nephew was more than a nephew. He was like an extra little brother, closer to a son himself to me, which I’ll never have. I didn’t want to resent him, and I’d had seven years to forgive the doubts that crept in from time to time. I didn’t know what to believe, but I couldn’t imagine Rory and his friends set off a blaze that ignited a school and killed a man.

“In many ways, it no longer matters how it happened or who did it. I’ve already served the time. I’ve already lost seven years of my life. I can’t get any of that back.”

“I could turn myself in.” Rory sheepishly offers, but his suggestion is not genuine or necessary. His admission would be based on guilt, not a confession.

“You’d never be tried for something the court already considers solved. There’s no evidence a firework began that blaze, and you wouldn’t be able to handle prison.” Rory wasn’t weak, but he was soft enough that prison would not be the place for him. He was better trying to right wrongs on the outside of jails than be placed inside one.

“Tell me more about Brynne.” I take a step to restart our walk and dismiss a discussion I’ve circled over in my head too many times in the past seven years. Rory’s face shifts. His expression lessens from contrition to something else. His cheeks brighten.

“She’s amazing.” His voice lifts. The lilt is one of love, and I’m so damn envious. I remember that feeling, even if it didn’t last.

“Yeah, what’s so great about her?” I listen as we cross into town and walk along a quiet, decrepit main street. Rory tells me about the assets of his girl. How pretty she is. How kind she is.

“She’s a teacher. She loves kids.” Without asking if he wants his own, I know the answer. Rory will be a great dad. He’s learned humility from his own and devotion from me. Or at least, I hope that’s how he’s seen it. His father’s injury certainly was a lesson for Rory.

“You know Dad would never have done that to you,” he states, breaking into my thoughts.