“Hey, come on, don’t cry.” Two arms come around me and pull me into his chest. I stand there, frozen, unable to move, not wanting to hurt him any more than I already have.
“It’s just a store, Gems,” he says into my hair. “No one was hurt.”
I pull away, cleaning my face with my sleeve. “That’s the kind of stuff I’m supposed to be saying to you. I give you full permission to become the blubbering mess in this relationship right now. I can be the reassuring one. I got this.”
He picks up my hand and tilts his head back in the direction of the fire. “I’m okay for now. But I may take you up on it later. Dougie just texted me. He’s here. Your aunt is with him too. My sister is on the way. We should go talk to them.”
We walk back to Dax’s store. I’m still not prepared to see it so burned and broken. My stomach again twists at the gaping wound that once was Kicks.
At some point, Dax’s hand is replaced with one that’s leathered and steady and even more familiar.
“You hanging in there, poodle?” is whispered in my ear as I’m pulled into a lavender-scented hug.
“This is all my fault,” I whisper, feeling a little better after finally letting the words out.
“Oh, honey, no.” She holds my face between her hands, using her thumb to dry the tears that have made an encore performance.
“Sometimes bad things happen in life. And when there’s nowhere solid to place the blame, we get stuck holding on to it. But there’s nothing you could have done to prevent this. Nothing at all.”
Sure, this fire might’ve been inevitable. Dax, in my timeline, might be staring at a big black hole that once held his dreams. There may be a thousand other timelines with a thousand other Daxes, each having the absolute worst day of their lives right now, but I have no way of knowing that, nor do I have the brainpower to process something so meta in this coffeeless disaster of a morning.
But there’s one thing I do know.
Even if Kicks is a pile of ash in my timeline, Dax is a lot better off there than he is here. He will be able to rebuild. His dreams might suffer a minor setback, but they won’t be crushed.
And there is something I can do about it.
* * *
—
“I need some tough love.” I stand on Kiersten’s front doorstep, two lattes in hand, smelling like a sad campfire.
She doesn’t take the coffee. Or invite me in. Instead, she shakes her head. “I’m sorry, Gems, but I’m on my way out and can’t talk right now. I’ll call you later, okay?”
She turns around as if our conversation is over but leaves the front door ajar. I ignore her words and follow her back inside. She clearly hasn’t heard about what happened yet.
Everything about Kiersten’s house is the same as in my timeline. On her wall is the picture of a cow that Riley drew with a Sharpie when he was five. Kierst framed it instead of painting over it. Sitting on top of the television is the live, laugh, love sign that she got from Trent’s mother for her first wedding anniversary. I would bet a million dollars it says “Cry, Drink, Fuck” on the back, written in the very same Sharpie as Riley’s wall picture.
It also smells the same. Pancakes and coffee. If I close my eyes and clear my mind, I can almost pretend that I’m back in my own timeline. That I haven’t fucked everything up.
“This is an emergency, and I need you to tell me what to do.”
Again, she ignores me, hopping around on one heeled shoe as she searches through a pile of mismatched runners and rubber boots.
“Seriously, Gems. I have somewhere I need to be. I promise I will call you later, but right now, I’ve got to go.”
She pulls her missing shoe from the pile and slides it on. Catching her reflection in the mirror, she ruffles her roots with her fingers and then grabs her car keys from the shelf next to the door, shoving them in her purse.
She’s not getting it. I’ve unraveled the tapestry. I’ve fucked up the space-time continuum, and Dax is paying the price.
“There’s been a fire.” My voice wavers as I say it, but it doesn’t have the desired effect. She reaches past me to open the door, ignoring that I’m having a third-degree meltdown in her front hall.
“I know,” she calls over her shoulder. “Aunt Livi called me. It’s awful, and I hope Dax is okay, but if I don’t leave now, I’m going to be late.”
Desperation floods my veins, and I launch myself after her, grabbing her arm. “Kiersten. I need you.”