Page 132 of Golden Ruin

She returns half a minute later carrying a box, and that still doesn’t answer my question, but it doesn’t take long for the smell to hit me–char, smoke. Immediately, I’m triggered, transported back to that night, living in hell as the room disintegrates around me.

I take a breath, swallowing as I compose myself.

“What’s this?” I ask, and my voice is small. Honestly, I’m tempted to ask her to take it away.

Mom glances down at the box in her arms, then lowers it.

“These are… some of your things,” she says.

My heart drops to my stomach as my gaze lowers, cautiously scanning the items. Tears fill my eyes, and I’m not really sure what to say, how to feel.

“Benny and I pleaded with Amelia not to go back there, told her it was dangerous, but… we couldn’t stop her.”

I sit in silence as Mom lifts an item from the box, slowly offering it to me.

“She was able to gather a couple photo albums from when Jax was little, a teacup from your grandmother’s set, a few other odds and ends.”

As I stare at the cover of the photo album, she slides the box toward my feet.

“She’s trying, Lex. You have no idea what this has been like for her. She–”

“Jax, time to go. Hurry, please,” I cut her off, standing to walk toward the door. I can’t do this. Not today. Not until I’m ready. Maybe not ever.

I’m pacing in the foyer, relieved to hear tiny footsteps on the stairs. The second Jax comes into view, I force a smile, brushing tears from my eyes.

“Hey, sweetheart. Ready to head home?”

He nods. “Yep. Grandpa Benny got me these,” he says, holding up an unopened pack of trading cards.”

“No way! You’ll have to show them to me when we get home, okay?”

“Okay! And can I call Daddy to show him, too?”

“Of course.”

He bounces down the last step and sits there to put his sneakers on while Mom and I linger in awkward silence.

“I’ll stop pushing,” is her softly spoken promise, but I roll my eyes.

She’s been pushing this entire time, so why should I believe something’s changed?

“At least take your things,” she says, holding the box out.

“What’s that?” Jax asks, standing on his tiptoes to see over the edge.

Reluctantly, I take it from my mother’s hands, but don’t say another word. Not goodbye, not even a thank you for looking after Jax. I’m not trying to be rude, but if I say anything else, I’ll break, and I can’t do that in front of my son.

I slam the truck’s hatch as soon as I set the box down in the back, then help Jax get buckled in. The second I’m behind the wheel and start the engine, I roll down the windows to get rid of the smell. A smell that will probably haunt me for the rest of my life. Jax and I ride in silence, and I turn down one road after the other, driving on autopilot as I replay the scene with my mother, hearing her plead my sister’s case yet again.

It hasn’t been a complete surprise that she’s defending her. She wants us to make up, wants us to clear the air, but there’s history there. For years, Amelia was in jail because of her own reckless behavior. And before that, she wasn’t exactly the best sister. Being the older of us two, she was never a protector, never someone I could confide in. She was selfish, manipulative, and never cared much to build any kind of relationship. So, when she asked to live with me after she was released, it was already a stretch to open the doors of my home and my heart, but I did it, because that’s what family does.

But then the fire happened.

A fire she started.

A fire that almost took my son’s life.

And now I’m just supposed to let that go?