Page 80 of A Curse On Black Lake (Black Lake Gothic Cowboys #1)

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. I don’t like this idea as it is,” he says.

“I’m going to do it unless you can convince Wyatt to let you go.”

Killian huffs. “He won’t talk to me.”

“That’s weird, seeing as he was determined to question you, and harass you for the past three months.”

“I was thinking the same thing. Maybe I can convince him while you’re gone,” he says.

“I’ll tell him you want to talk, and I’ll be back.”

“See you soon,” he says, and I feel his eyes on my back as I leave the lockup and stop at Wyatt’s office.

“Stop being a dick and talk to your cousin. I don’t know what crawled up your butt and died, but he deserves to speak to you since you’re the one that put him here.”

I don’t wait for his response and head out of the station.

A few people are out on the sidewalk pointing up in the sky. A light tinge of smoke fills my nose, and I frown. Did a crop catch on fire? It is dry out, and it wouldn’t be the first time.

Child, prepare yourself. We were not told. We were not told. The Spirits say.

“What are you talking about?” I mutter to them, attempting to ignore the few weird looks I get on my way back to Killian’s truck.

Everything is about to change. You must brace yourself for the consequences of other’s actions.

“What in the sam hell does that mean?” I ask them.

They don’t answer.

“You know, it would be super helpful if y’all told me who was after me. It would help get Killian out. I know it won’t change the inevitable, but at the very least we could put that part to bed.”

We cannot tell the future. We can tell you only what we’ve been given.

“So it would be super cool if you maybe put in a good word for me with you know… God and let Him know that a little hints or maybe the right direction would be a huge help.”

You do not need us for that.

“Yeah, I know, but many hands and all that.”

The work you are referring to is not work that we can do.

“Y’all have no sense of humor.”

But you were not joking.

I sigh and puff out a breath as I turn onto my road. “You’re right. I wasn’t. I had hoped that because Killian and I grew into more than I could’ve ever hoped for, maybe it was finally my turn.”

We are sorry, child.

We are so sorry.

Sorry.

Sorry.

Sorry.

Sorry.

They keep repeating themselves, and I frown. It’s strange. But then it makes complete sense as I pull up to my house, currently engulfed in flames.

I push out of the truck, and the firefighters are already pointing their hoses at my house, attempting to put it out.

I stare at it in shock, blinking a few times to make sure what I’m seeing is real.

But I’m not asleep.

Unless this is all a terrible dream.

I close my eyes, but I can still smell the smoke.

This is real.

A sob bursts from my lips, and my legs fail me as I fall to the ground. Everything I have — my Grams, my ancestors passed down — was in that house.

The journals!

Maybe they aren’t in ashes yet.

Running towards the house, I go around the side to see if I can get in a window.

“Hey! Get away from there!” someone yells.

I ignore them trying to figure out how to get in a heat singes my face.

“Hey get her out of here!” The voice yells.

Thick arms come around my waist, pulling me back from my house. “You can’t go in there. Whatever it was, is gone now. It’s been burning too long,” he says in a muffled voice behind the mask.

“No! Please! Please!” I scream.

His thick arm doesn’t move as we get further back from the house. “You can’t go in. I need you to tell me you understand.”

I nod.

“Good,” he says and lets go.

But I don’t listen and run again.

“Hey!” he says, catching up to me despite all the gear he’s wearing. “It’s not worth it. Nothing in there is worth your life.”

“You have no idea what you’re talking about!” I yell.

One piece of evidence that might have helped Killian is probably shattered — the lavender perfume. Gone. All of it gone. Grams’s things gone. I have nothing left of her now.

It all hits me at once, and my body goes limp. The firefighter manages to keep me upright until he helps me sit on the grass, far enough away from the flames.

I look up at him in a daze, and he pulls his mask off.

“What’s your name?” he asks.

I stare at his green eyes and messy blond hair.

“Mine’s Devereaux,” he pauses. “Do you need medical attention?”

I nod absently.

“I’m assuming this is your house.”

I nod again. I can’t speak. No words will form.

Something explodes, making me wince, and more flames burst out of the windows

“I’m sorry,” he says.

Devereaux stands and goes back to his job of making sure nothing else catches fire.

“Wait,” I rasp, grabbing his jacket. “Was this an accident or was it…deliberate?” I ask him.

He frowns at me.

“Um, it’s hard to say right now. Once we get the fire put out, we can inspect the damage to see,” Devereaux says.

I let him go. But Devereaux stands next to me for a little longer like he’s afraid I’ll hop up and try to run back into the inferno again. Which is fair, there’s no telling what I’m about to do.

“Eliana!” I hear yelled.

I look over my shoulder, and Eddy runs up to me.

“What happened? Are you okay?” he asks, eyes full of concern.

“No, Eddy, I’m not okay. My entire life went up in flames,” I rasp.

“I’m so sorry,” he says calmly.

I look up, and he’s staring at the fire.

What do I do? How am I supposed to move on from this? How am I supposed to do anything? I need Killian. I can’t do anything here.

Forcing myself to my feet, I head for his truck and wipe my tears. “I have to go, Eddy,” I mumble, headed for the truck.

If I was concerned about ruining my legacy, I certainly have now.

“Hey wait!” he yells coming up behind me. “Is there anything I can do to help? Are you sure you should be driving?” he asks.

I shrug. What choice do I have? Unless he can make my house not burn down — probably not.

“No, Eddy, there’s nothing you can do,” I mumble.

“Well, at least let me take you to where you want to go. I’m not sure it’s safe for you to be driving right now.”

I hand him the keys and keep walking to the truck.

He opens the passenger door for me and gets in on the driver’s side. It’s weird to see anyone who isn’t Killian there, but he’s right. I’m not so sure I wouldn’t crash this truck, and I’m sure Killian wouldn’t be happy about that.

“Where do you want to go?” he asks.

“Take me to the Sheriff’s station,” I tell him.

“What? Why? To file a report?” he asks.

“Sure,” I mumble, not having the energy to tell him I need to see the only one who is keeping me standing right now. I need Killian to hug me or I’m going to crumble under the weight of a mountain of devastation and the mudslide of my life.

Eddy parks in a spot close to the station, and I hightail it through the doors, headed straight for the holding area.

“Wait up!” Eddy yells.

I don’t, and I keep moving, he’ll catch up.

Trying the door, it’s locked. I don’t know why I’m surprised. “Can someone please open this?” I yell.

Wyatt pokes his head out and frowns at me, and stares at Eddy for a minute.

“Who is this?” he asks.

“Eddy. Now, please, Wyatt, please open the damn door!” I yell, nearly in hysterics.

“Are you okay? Why is there soot on your face?” he asks.

“Why does everyone keep asking me that? Do I look okay? Open the damn door and let me see Killian!” I yell.

I don’t care who’s looking or if anyone thinks I’m crazy because I’m on the edge of it, about to prove them all right.

Wyatt opens the door and I step through, Eddy close behind.

“Eliana,” Killian says, face scrunched up. “What were you yelling about? Why are you not okay?” he asks.

I shove my arms through the bars, and he steps closer, hugging me as much as he can.

“Who is this?” he asks me quietly.

“My house is in ashes. Everything is … gone.” My voice breaks, and I take a breath.

“What the hell? How?” Killian asks.

“I don’t know,” I rasp and lean against the bars, bumping my head.

Killian rubs the hurt and cups my cheek. I lean against him as much as I can and mentally curse these bars keeping us apart.

“This is Eddy. He’s an old childhood friend,” I mumble into his two day old shirt.

“And why is he here?” Killian asked.

“He’s in town for a visit. We ran into each other, and then he saw my house burning down.”

“I see,” Killian says.

“Are you okay, baby?” he asks me.

For some reason, the same question doesn’t bother me because he truly cares.

“No,” I mumble into his shirt.

“Did you think of another option?” I ask Killian.

“Within the past twenty minutes? No. Nothing that would be without me beside you,” he says darkly.

“Wonderful,” I grumble.

“Eliana, please go home, get a shower, and rest. You need to rest. We can come back to the drawing board tomorrow,” he says. I can hear the exhaustion and irritation in his voice.

I hear his stomach grumble, and mine rolls. Fat tears fall down my face, and I blubber.

“I didn’t get you food,” I cry.

“Don’t worry about it, I’ll get another PB&J.”

“It’s gone. Everything is gone,” I cry.

“I know it’s going to be okay though. I know it will,” he says, rubbing my back.

“Eliana?” Killian says.

I pull back to focus on him. “What’s mine is yours. It’s your home now too. So go home and get some sleep. Can you do that for me?” he asks.

“I guess,” I mumble.

He pushes his face through the bars as much as he can, and I kiss his lips I so desperately miss.

“I miss you,” I whisper.

“I miss you too,” he whispers.

“Be careful, okay? Lock the door, get Tiny. Then come back to me in the morning.”

I steel myself. “I will.”