Page 31 of Reaper

The few weeks prior to the fire, I kept thinking he might ask me out, and if he had, I would have said yes, but he never did. And now, I don’t even know if he’ll still want me because of my scars.

Reaper clears his throat again, and my gaze snaps back up to his.

His piercing bluish-grey eyes almost seem like they can see straight into my soul. That thought has my face heating even more. I lower my gaze, and immediately, I want to clamp my thighs together. His tight black t-shirt is stretched across his chest and over his arms. His black blue-jeans hug his thighs and there’s some soot smudged on his black biker boots. Worried about the soot, I look closer at his cut and am relieved that none of his patches appear to be smudged, even though his hands are covered in it. Hopefully, his cut won’t get dirty. I’ve learned that the guys always take excellent care of their cuts. Almost like they are sacred to them.

Wait, why is he here? And why is he covered in soot?

“T-Thank you,” I manage to get out and then internally wince, hoping that I don’t sound like a total dork. Ever since the fire, my voice has been raspier than it used to be.

“Anytime, Darlin’.”

My gaze snaps up to his in shock at the use of the nickname. Since that night in May, he’s always called me Lark and never used a nickname. Why is he now?

And the way he said the word ‘Darlin’...

His voice is a bit more gravelly and lower than usual, but it wraps around me in a protective embrace, and I find myself leaning a bit more into him. His eyes seem to darken as we stare at each other, the intensity doing funny things to me and making my core pulse with need. It also doesn’t escape my notice that he doesn’t look the slightest bit disturbed at the sight of my scars. Since I’m looking up at him, I’m not able to use my hair as a curtain to hide them like I’d been trying to do this past month anytime someone was around me.

“I don’t need no assistance. I may be almost eighty years old, but that doesn’t mean I’m an invalid,” Granny huffs, and I turn, her voice breaking the spell between Reaper and me to see that the fire chief was trying to offer his arm to help her walk through what’s left of the main floor.

“May I?” Reaper asks, drawing my attention back to him as he wraps my good arm around his and I can’t help but nod. He smiles then, and that smile does even more funny things to me.

While I’m still curious about why he and the rest of his club are here, I’m grateful nonetheless. Plus, I think I’ll need his strength for this.

Needing to break the spell before I do something that will surely backfire on me, especially since I’m so confused by this turn of events, I look back toward the house. My eyes start to sting again as I take in the mostly destroyed exterior of our once beautiful home.

“We got what we could out of the unstable sections of your house that were still intact and have set them all aside for you to look through,” Reaper says as he points to our detached garage that seems like it only has minor damage to it.

My throat tightens when I see a few stacks of partially burned pictures and portraits leaning up against the wall. There are also a couple of rows of boxes which look like they contain knickknacks, books, and things like that, but it’s such a smallpile compared to what I know was all in our house. Not to mention all the history.

Reaper’s hand tightens on my arm and I turn back toward the house to find we’ve reached the steps. He stops as someone approaches and after taking what they hand out to him; he turns toward me, studying my face.

“I’m not sure if this will hurt you or not, but you need to wear a mask while inside.”

Glancing down at the mask, I bite my lip before looking back up at my house. Determination fills me and has me standing taller. “I’ll wear it no matter how much it hurts, but I may need to take breaks.”

He nods. “Just say the word, Darlin’, and we’ll step outside for a break for as long as you need and as frequently as you need.”

My mind tumbles in shock, again, at his declaration, but I choose not to dwell on it right now. I need to talk to him about this ‘Darlin’ business, however that will have to wait. I don’t want to talk with an audience around. Taking a deep breath, I reach for the mask, which he’s taken out of the packaging for me. After a few tries, I finally get it in place. It hurts, but I need to do this, too.

Turning back toward the house, I take Reaper’s offered arm again and carefully take each step one at a time. The skin around the burns on my legs and hips is tight, which limits my mobility, though it isn’t as tight as the skin on my face, chest, neck, arms, and hand. Still, I’m relieved that Reaper goes at my pace and doesn’t try to rush me.

Stepping over the threshold, I inhale sharply as I look around at what’s left of our living room.

The couches that Ma and I had just reupholstered earlier this summer are almost completely burned to ash. A few remnants of their wooden frames are still laying on the floor. There are a couple more of Reaper’s club members in here and they arehelping take things off the walls and bookshelves. When they see me, they all stop, then step back. Their small, sympathetic and nervous smiles and half-smiles have my chest tightening.

“Where would you like to see first? We’ve cleared out the old stairs and laid down a temporary floor and steps so that you can get upstairs. The basement has already been emptied.” His voice trails off and I look up at him to find he’s looking down at me, concern and worry written all over his face. “I need to warn you though, very little in your room survived.”

It’s a little hard to hear his voice because of our masks and from him talking quietly, but then the words finally register. Reaper has been here long enough, or often enough, to know which room is mine. That he’s seen the extent of the damage throughout the house to know which rooms are worse than the others.

I swallow the lump that forms in my throat. “Where... What are the worst rooms? Where was the worst damage?”

In my gut, I know this was no accident, and I’m almost positive we were targeted. A small part of me doesn’t want to hear his answer, but I need to know.

Reaper grimaces and I feel my entire body tightening, like the muscles in my body are as taut as one of my bows that I’ve just attached the cable to.

He clears his throat a couple of times as his gaze darts around. “Your room and your side of the house were damaged the worst, with most of the rooms almost completely destroyed by the fire or the water. Emma and Lottie’s rooms were heavily damaged, along with the study, and a room that looked like a hobby room, but none of them were as bad as the living room, kitchen, the guest rooms, another hobby room, and... your room. Yours was the worst.”

Chapter 14