Page 18 of Desert Loyalties

SKYE

“I set the fire that killed my grandparents.”

I say it in one breath because if I don’t, if I let myself hesitate for even a second, I’ll choke on it. I’ll shove it back down and smile like everything’s fine. Like I didn’t kill two people.

The silence is instant and suffocating.

Drake doesn’t say anything at first. He just looks at me. Then, slowly, he sits down on the edge of the bed while I start pacing the room.

“What?” he says, quiet, steady, like he doesn’t want to scare me.

“When I graduated high school,” I start, my voice shaking even though I’ve told myself this a thousand times, “my grades weren’t good enough for the fancy colleges. I mean, I tried, but it’s hard to pull straight A’s when you’re working two jobs and raising yourself.”

He doesn’t interrupt. Just waits.

“But there was this one scholarship. It didn’t care about GPA. It cared about struggle. About story. They wanted kids who’d survived shit. So, I told mine. I wrote the most honest, soul-baring essay of my life, then sat in front of a panel of strangers and told it again. And it worked. I got in.”

My voice cracks on the last word, but I keep going.

“They offered financial aid, too. Said they’d cover everything. Full ride. Only problem? Technically, I didn’t qualify.”

I glance at him, and his brow furrows.

“Because my father—” I pause to swallow the bile in my throat, “—he was rich. His name’s on my birth certificate. Even though I hadn’t seen him in years, even though he abandoned me, his income still counted. They said if I could prove he gave up custody, they’d make an exception.”

“So, I went back to the trailer.”

I stop pacing. Just stand there, trying to breathe through the memory.

“I don’t know if you’ve ever been in a single-bedroom trailer,” I ask.

He shakes his head silently. “Ours was like a rusty RV that’d been nailed to the dirt.

At the very end was the bedroom. Bathroom next to it, just across the hallway.

No dryer, just a washer shoved into a corner.

I used to sleep on top of it. My grandfather built a bench over it with an old mattress. That was my bed.”

Drake doesn’t speak. I know he’s listening because he’s gripping the edge of the bed.

“As soon as you walk in, there’s this small bench by the door. Barely wide enough to sit on. My grandparents used it for storage. Paperwork and stuff. It was always locked.”

My hands are shaking now, the memory rising like smoke.

“But I didn’t have anything left to lose. So, I jimmied it open with a screwdriver. I was desperate, just hoping to find something, anything, I could use. What I found was… worse.”

My voice gets smaller.

“There was this document. An agreement. I couldn’t understand all of it, there was a lot of legal jargon, but I got the point. My dad had signed over custody in exchange for paying my grandparents $20,000 a month in child support.”

Drake exhales sharply. I feel it like a gust in my chest.

“That money was meant for me. For food. For clothes. For a chance. And I…” I laugh, bitter and broken. “I thought we were poor. I skipped meals. Wore the same shoes for years. Gave up on being a kid.”

I pace again, faster now.

“I used to think their friends bought the booze, but no. They were just delivery boys. My grandparents were the ones spending my child support. They were out for days, ‘looking for work,’ but they weren’t. They were drinking away my future.”

I stop. Close my eyes. See it all again.

“There was a lighter. One of the ones they used to light the bong with. I was so fuckin’ angry. I lit that document on fire and threw it onto the pile of paperwork in the bench. I didn’t even check for anything else. I just… wanted it all to burn.”

Drake’s jaw is tight. His fists clenched now. I start to tremble.

“By the time I saw the smoke in my rearview, it was too late. I told myself it was justice. That they had it coming. But then…”

I choke on the words.

“Then I got the call.”

My knees give out and I hit the floor. Cold, hard, real. I curl forward, voice barely more than a whisper.

“They were asleep. In the back bedroom. I didn’t check. I didn’t think they were home. They were never home in the afternoon. Never.”

Tears flood my cheeks, and I wrap my arms around myself like that might hold me together.

“I didn’t know.”

I feel him move but I can’t look at him. Can’t face what’s in his eyes. Not after this.

Because this isn’t some small secret.

This is the truth.

I killed them.

Strong arms wrap around me, pulling me tight. I’m still sobbing, gasping between apologies I can’t form, but he just holds me, grounding me. He lowers us both to the floor, and I don’t fight it, I sink into his lap, like I’m not this cracked, jagged thing he’s trying to carry.

He doesn’t speak at first. Just breathes with me. Let’s me cry.

Then, his voice comes low and steady in my ear once my shudders wear off. “Do you remember Jacob Nelson?”

The name punches through my haze, ripping me from the spiral just enough for my brain to catch.

“Yeah,” I whisper confused. My throat is raw.

He… he tried to roofie me at that party in college.

My friends showed up before anything could happen, thank God.

But I couldn’t go to the administration.

Not with my rep. I was the party girl. They’d have said I asked for it.

The memory is sour. Rotting in the back of my head for years.

I had to walk past that smug bastard every day, like nothing ever happened.

“I broke every finger he used to hurt you. And then I killed him.”

My breath catches. My body goes still in his arms. How did he even know.

“I killed him because he hurt you. Because he would’ve done worse. Because you were alone, and no one did anything. So, I did.”

The weight of it settles around us like smoke.

I should be afraid. I’m not. Because I know exactly what he means.

Drake lifts a hand and cradles my face with more gentleness than I think I’ve ever deserved.

“Your grandparents?” he says, voice rough. “They didn’t neglect you. They abused you. Stole from you. Let you rot while they fed their addictions on the money you were owed.”

He leans in closer, his forehead resting against mine.

“If they were alive, if I’d met them, they sure as hell wouldn’t have gone peacefully. Not after what they did to you.”

Tears slip down my cheeks again, slower now, heavier.

“And listen to me, baby.” His thumb brushes the tears away. “No one, no one, is allowed to hurt you. Not them. Not that bastard in college. Not even you.”

I flinch, just a little. But he holds me tighter.

“So, stop blaming yourself. You were a kid. Hurt, angry, abandoned. What you did… it wasn’t murder. It wasn’t revenge. It was the first time you let yourself feel anything. You gave them something they never gave you, mercy.”

I shake my head, but he silences me with a kiss. It’s soft. Not like his usual heat and fire. It’s gentle, sweet.

“I love you,” he says against my lips. “I don’t care how dark your secrets are. They don’t scare me. You don’t scare me. You’re mine. And I protect what’s mine.”

His voice drops to something primal, something dangerous. “Even from themselves.”

And just like that, I break all over again.

But this time, I’m not alone when I do.