Page 30 of Burning Demons (Burning Torments #1)

Chapter 30

Wren

Momma stood at my side as my old truck was towed away. They were taking it over to Joey’s body shop ’cause that guy did everything, but I wasn’t sure I wanted it fixed. As much as the truck had been a sign of freedom when I first got it, now it felt more like a chokehold. I’d never be able to see it in the same light. I’d never be able to get the obscenities written all over it out of my head. They were just words, but they represented something I didn’t want to touch. Something I never wanted to touch Tate.

Hatred. Ignorance. Violence. Shame.

“Momma,” I whispered with tears already clogging my voice.

She turned to me and wrapped her arm around my waist. She couldn’t reach much higher. I coughed on a laugh at how small she was, and still she tried to hold me up when I was about to fall apart.

“I’m scared, Momma.”

“Of what, honey?” She rubbed my back in firm circles.

I sniffed and wiped my eyes with the back of my hand. “Of disappointing you even more. Of failing so bad.”

“Oh, Wren. You know one of the hardest things to learn in life is how to fail.” She chuckled. “Don’t seem right, huh? We shouldn’t learn how to fail but how to succeed. Yet, when it comes, and failures will come, we gotta know what do to with it, how to learn from it.”

I supposed she was right. I’d already fucked up, so now I had to turn it around. “I’m sorry, Momma.”

She smiled. “Now, there’s a step in the right direction.”

“I should’ve told you about Tate and me long before you found out.”

“You can tell me now.” She patted my back, then jerked her head toward her car. “We gotta head down to the station, so you can tell me on the way.”

Since I had an idea about who worked over my truck, the police had asked that I come in for another statement. I followed Momma, then folded into her front seat.

Where to start? “I guess I’ve known for a long time that I was gay.” The three-letter word didn’t seem much of an issue anymore, and I didn’t know when it stopped being one. “I denied it, hated it sometimes, and figured I’d never do anything about it.”

“Go on,” Momma said when I almost shut down.

“Well, you know, Tate came. I think he saw through me right away, and I guess I liked it. I mean, him seeing me and just knowing. We hung out a lot before school. At first, I didn’t think we’d ever be on the same level. Him being so cultured and shiiii—stuff. Then we sorta clicked.” I shrugged, but she was paying attention to the road.

I stared out the window, trying to remember back to how it started, when we changed. “He touched me in the pool one day. N-n-nothin’ dirty—I mean, like just when we wrastled that time, but I didn’t hate it. Then he held my hand another day, and I thought I’d become Superman or somethin’.”

Momma giggled. I’d almost forgotten I was saying all this to her and not to myself, to make sure I heard my own words.

“We took it slow. I promise. We both figured we were in for it when we were found out, but we took the risk. At the time, he was worth it, and that was all I could think about.”

“And now?” she asked. “Is he still worth it?”

I swallowed hard, and my next words were cried more than spoken. “Yes, Momma. I know you’re mad, and you’ve got every right to be, but I love Tate. I love him, and I won’t stop for you or anyone.”

Momma opened her glove box and handed me a bunch of napkins. I took some, blew my nose, and wiped my eyes. She didn’t say anything until we stopped at the police station. My eyes were dry by then and burning. My nose was clogged, but I breathed a little easier without the weight of secrets wrapped around my chest.

“Honey,” she said as she turned in her seat. “I’m never gonna ask you to stop lovin’ someone. Anyone who does doesn’t deserve a place in your life.” She patted my cheek and softened with watery eyes. “I’m not disappointed in you, Wren. I was shocked, more than a little hurt and mad, I’ll admit it, but I’d be a fool to hold on to it. You’re my son, and I’ll love you no matter what. But this, this is somethin’ I’m proud of.”

“Proud? I got suspended from school because of it.”

“You defended Tate. You were put in a rough spot. After all the emotions from Sunday, and believe me, I’m not blind, Wren, I know I threw a lot on you. But after that, the man you love was gettin’ hurt, and you stepped in. You did the best thing you could. It didn’t have a great endin’, but it’s not the end of the world. You’ll get through this. We all will.”

I wanted to believe her words, but the emotions weighing on me were too heavy to be lifted by them just yet.

Sam came shortly after we arrived, and the three of us sat down with the police to go through the official statement. They’d had some other complaints about the Wolf Pack, and now they had too much to not take it seriously.

The school had cameras on the parking lots, so they were hopeful once they got the footage, they could get a case going.

It was late by the time we left. I asked Momma to drop me off at Sienna’s on the way and told her I’d walk home later. There was so much I needed to say to Tate it might take me all night. For right now, though, I needed a good knock to my head from my best friend. I needed to get a reset on my reality from someone who didn’t know the meaning of sugarcoat it .

Sienna came out her front door as I was crossing her lawn.

“Well, if it ain’t the bad boy himself,” she said with a wide grin and her hands on her cocked hips.

“Shut up,” I mumbled.

As we had so many nights through the years, we sat on her porch swing and talked.

I told her about Sunday, about getting caught and pushing Tate away. She already knew about the fight after school the day before, my amazing coming out moment, and the truck because school gossip stopped for no one.

“I’m not really mad about getting suspended, but now I might not have that concert solo in the spring. Principal Woodson said it’d be up to the music director if I’d be allowed to even attend, considering my violent record.”

Sienna laughed, then broke off abruptly. “You can’t be serious?”

“Yeah, I am. That’s what he said. The solo was a huge deal. Tate had filled my head with all these dreams about playing as a career, and that might be over.”

“Puh-lease, Mister Drama Queen, stop. You’ve got way more talent than that stupid band thing. Don’t sweat it, okay? It will or it won’t happen, but either way, just start posting short videos. I can help you. In today’s world, that’s probably all you need to get into a music school.”

“You think so?”

“Know so. I get so many comments on the stuff I post about applying to schools and getting scholarships, even submitting photos for contests. I’ve got people all over the world already wanting my calend—” She broke off with a gasp. “That’s it. Oh my God, Wren, I love you.” She jumped up, slapped the sides of my head with her tiny hands, and kissed my forehead.

“I mean, sure, but what did I do?”

“You just gave me the best idea. I was already thinking about what to do for Percy and Tate. Why didn’t I think of it myself, you ask?”

“No. I’m actually gonna ask you to start at the beginning. You mean do somethin’ for Tate getting beat up?”

She nodded. “And Percy.”

Percy? Tate’s little friend? “What happened with Percy?”

Sienna stopped pacing and sat back down. In a hushed tone, she said, “Tate didn’t tell you what happened at school Monday?”

“Uh …” He might have tried, but I’d avoided him until he started avoiding me.

She waved a hand to dismiss the question. “Never mind. Okay, it’s not gossip. Especially since it involves your Prince Charming being, well, himself. So Percy’s sister, Emily, has been flappin’ her jaws for five minutes of fame and forked over the details about him getting bullied by the Wolf Pack for a while now. Apparently, Tate walked in on them beating the poor kid and chased them off. He talked Percy into standing up for himself and getting some good ole-fashioned justice by telling the school what they did.”

“Fuck me,” I whispered, and before she went on, I knew how this ended.

“After he made sure Percy was safe with the nurse, he went after them. All four of them, like some dragonslayer off to save the day. He picked that fight with them for Percy. And you know what?” I shook my head because I couldn’t string a single thought together. “I think he did it on purpose. Like, Tate provoked them into a fight to get them in trouble because he figured the school wouldn’t do enough for Percy.”

“Jesus.”

“Right? I’m gonna take all my calendar proceeds and make some sort of crusade against school bullies. Your boy is so dreamy, Wren. Gorgeous and solid gold.”

I swiped my hand over my face. “And I might’ve fucked it up.”

“No way.”

I glanced at her, silent but begging her to give me an ounce of redemption.

“You might have had a bump in the road, but Tate is as gone for you as you are him. You’re a little slow, so I’ll break it down for you.”

I let the slow comment go and leaned closer, eager, hungry for this.

“Even when you turn away, he watches you, Wren. The sexy, in-love kind of watching. Maybe a little stalker-like too, but it’s the tolerable kind. The kind that says he can’t understand what you see in him. The kind that says you hung every star for him. The kind that says he doesn’t remember how to breathe without you.”

“He does that?” I whisper.

“And more. You don’t stop that kind of love over one wrong turn.”

“I need to go home.”

“Hell, yeah, you do.”

I jumped off the porch, sprinting as soon as my feet hit the ground.

Behind me, Sienna yelled, “Tell him you love him.”

That was the plan.

It’d been a while since I worked out more than getting sexy with Tate, but I ran as if the devil himself was on my heels. Darkness had settled, even though it was early evening. The Christmas lights were on, and so were all the lights in the house. I raced in the back door. A quick scan showed only Momma and Sam in the kitchen, so I headed for the stairs.

“Wren?” Momma called

I didn’t answer.

And I didn’t make it to the stairs.

The front doorbell rang, and I opened it because I was literally right there with the first ding. A man dressed in a sharp suit stood on the porch, and within the first blink of his cold, gray eyes, I knew who this was.

Tall, older, he had dark hair with hints of silver near the temples. Defined jaw and tanned skin. His face held a sort of commanding expression as if he belonged wherever he went solely because he’d gone there. His crisp shirt was whiter than any white I’d seen before, or maybe because it was against his dark suit. I didn’t know, but everything about him screamed perfect and intentional.

“Good evening,” he said in a deep, silky voice I wanted to hate. “You must be Wren Wilkerson.” He held out a hand. “I’m Franklin Moreau.”

“I know who you are,” I said without taking his offer. “And you’ve got some fuckin’ nerve showing up here.”

One corner of his lips curled, exposing the depth of his evil with the smallest of gestures. “Ah, I see. It’s a pleasure to meet you as I expected,” he said. “At least I won’t need to explain why I’m here.”

Franklin might’ve been more intimidating than I could’ve ever been prepared for, but this was my turf, and Tate was mine . I straightened my spine and threw his smirk right the fuck back when my height forced him to tip his chin to keep staring down his nose at me.

“He ain’t goin’ with you,” I said. He hadn’t said he was taking Tate, but why else would he be here in person?

“We’ll see about that.”

“Wren?” Momma called as she came down the hall. “Who are you … Oh, hello.”

I felt rather than saw both Momma and Sam come up behind me, but I didn’t dare turn from the demon on our doorstep.

“Who is this?” Sam asked.

Franklin smiled over my shoulder. “Evening, I’m Franklin. I’ve come to collect Tate. I hear he’s gotten into some trouble.” His smooth tone was all kinds of charming, easily shifting for the new audience.

“Oh, uh, well, it’s nice to meet you, I guess, but I think this has been a bit blown—” Sam started, but I interrupted him.

“How the fuck did you find that out?” I snapped.

“Wren,” Momma scolded. “Let the man in, at least.”

“No.”

“Wren, this is Tate’s stepdad,” Sam said as he came closer.

“I know who the fuck he is.”

“Wren Bailey, you better watch yourself,” Momma huffed behind me while I used my large frame as a roadblock between her and this prick.

To explain my rage at Franklin would be to betray Tate. I couldn’t do that. I’d fucked up so much I couldn’t take this from him. I wouldn’t expose him like that. But the longer I scowled in the doorway, the longer he smirked with that calculating composure, the more likely I was going to blow the fuck up.

“Tate,” Sam yelled in the direction of the second floor, and the precious seconds I had left before this got irreversibly awkward evaporated.

“No,” I snapped and stepped forward. “You need to leave.”

“And so I shall with Tate,” he sneered elegantly. How did someone even manage to pull that off? This jackoff was literally the devil, all poise and sophistication hiding the twisted evil within.

I lunged, patience in the rearview, and lifted my hands to choke the fucker out.

Franklin never moved.

In the end, he didn’t have to.

A slight, pale figure squeezed between us. “Wren, stop.”

I did. Somewhat from surprise but more because it was Tate who had stepped in the middle. Tate, the one who held so much sway over me

“Stop,” he said again.

Franklin slid an arm around Tate’s waist. The move was familiar to both of them, easy. Seeing that hold, the possessiveness of it, I snarled and lunged again.

“Wren.”

I pulled up short once more. “You aren’t going with him.”

“I am.”

“Tate …”

“Now you see how things are, young man?” Franklin said.

Tate spun on his heels. “Go.” He gave Franklin a halfhearted shove. “I’m right behind you.”

Franklin took his eyes off me for the first time and leveled what I hated to admit was a loving gaze on Tate. “Of course.” The man brushed Tate’s cheek, then took one step back, then another.

Tate turned to me and in a lower, hurried voice said, “I’ll be back.”

“What do you mean?” To be back meant he had to leave. “You’re not going with him.” I couldn’t think of any other way to say it.

“I need to. I have to.”

“No, you don’t.” I reached for him, but when he backstepped out of the house, I dropped my hand. “Tate.”

“It’s okay,” he lied. He straight up lied because as he turned to race down the stairs, he clamped his eyes shut tightly, just for a second. He wasn’t okay. This wasn’t fucking okay.

“Tate,” I shouted from the porch, but he kept running across the yard.

A sleek, black car was parked on the street. Franklin waited with the door open, and Tate slid right inside, zero hesitation.

“Did he say anything to you about his stepdad coming down here?” Sam asked from beside me.

I stared at the car as it pulled away, gaining speed until it was out of sight.

“No,” I forced past gritted teeth.

“I’d never met the man, but he looked exactly as I imagined.”

Did you imagine a predator? “Tate shouldn’t have left with him.”

Sam turned and leaned a hip into the porch railing. “Why?”

I shook my head, wanting to tell him everything, wanting to scream the truth, to jump in my truck and haul ass after them. “He just shouldn’t’ve.”

The night was frigid, but I didn’t feel the cold. Had Tate left with a coat? I hadn’t noticed.

I’ll be back .

I need to . I have to .

Sam clapped my shoulder, then gripped it hard. He didn’t seem completely okay with this, but he didn’t know enough to see how bad this really was. “Come on back inside. He said he’d be back. Maybe he’d called Franklin down here about something.” Sam turned and headed back inside, mumbling something about Tate and New York, but I couldn’t hear it over Tate’s voice in my head.

I’ll be back . I’ll be back .

Tate wouldn’t have called Franklin, but how could I explain why I knew that?

I still wanted to chase after them, but where would they go?

He’d be back, but when?

He left without any of his stuff. Did he have his phone? Would he be okay? Did I just make the worst mistake of my life and let Tate slip through my fingers?

No. He’d be back. I had to believe it.

That sure as fuck didn’t mean I had to like it.