It was a pointless gesture, and yet, it did make me feel just a little less pathetic. Maybe the paper would burn to ashes. Or more likely, the flame would sputter out, leaving a semi-burnt blob for Brody to find the next time he ventured into his truck bed.
Either way, I was done with the whole sordid thing.
I turned and began walking once again down the peaceful street. I'd gotten maybe two full blocks before an odd burning smell made me stop and turn back to look.
My eyes widened. Oh, my God.
Brody's truck. The whole truck bed was in flames. What the hell?
At the sight, my stomach lurched, and my heart skipped a beat.
Had I done that?
I hadn't meant to.
Without pausing to think, I plunged toward the truck, intending to put out the fire somehow, maybe grab a garden hose or –
Or nothing.
I was still a full block away when his truck literally exploded, sending flames shooting not only from the truck bed, but from the passenger area, too.
A split second later, Brody emerged from somewhere behind the house. He rushed toward his truck, and then stopped short in the middle of the front yard, as if realizing that his truck was already beyond saving.
He looked around and spotted me almost immediately. As our gazes locked, something slipped from my hands.
The lighter.
With a muttered curse, I leaned down and scooped it up. By the time I stood with the lighter in-hand, Brody's expression had gone from shock to raw hatred. He was still glaring when I shoved the lighter back into my pocket.
Why I bothered, I had no idea.
I was so busted.
Already, neighbors were rushing out of their houses to gawk at the flaming pickup. Within just a few moments, a small crowd had gathered on either side of the formerly quiet street.
In spite of the surrounding commotion, Brody's gaze didn't waver. And neither did mine.
As our gazes held, I felt myself swallow. Should I run away? Or walk toward him and face the music?
It took me only a moment to realize that running was useless. I mean, I'd already been caught red-handed. And he knew who I was. I might as well try to explain, or help, or something.
I hurried toward him, for all the good it did. By the time I reached his side, he was already doing what I'd only thought of doing.
In the short time it had taken me to clear the final block, he'd strode to the nearby house, yanked a garden hose from among the shrubbery, and rained water down on his truck – or rather, what used to be his truck.
Now, it was mostly a burnt-out shell.
Bracing myself, I sidled next to him and said in a horrified whisper, "It was an accident, honest."
He was still hosing down his truck. His jaw clenched, and without so much as a glance in my direction, he said, "Right."
"You don't believe me?"
At this, he turned and faced me head-on, even as he continued to spray the smoking vehicle. In a tight voice, he said, "Does it matter?"
"Yes. It does, actually."
His expression darkened. "Why?"
"Well, because…" I bit my lip. "I guess I'm in big trouble, huh?"
The words had barely left my lips when a police car, quickly followed by a fire truck, screeched up to the smoking remnants of Brody's pickup.
With a sound of disgust, Brody told me, "Go."
I wasn't following. "What?"
"Go," he repeated.
"Why?" I scoffed. "So you can tell your side of the story and get me in even more trouble?"
With a cold smile, Brody said, "You think that's how I’m gonna deal with this?"
His smile made just a little bit nervous, and I gave the police car a worried glance. Already, two officers had gotten out of the car and were warning the small crowd to back away from the smoldering truck.
Into my silence, Brody said, "You're gonna get it, alright. But not from the police – so if I were you, I'd get the fuck out of here while you can."
It was so tempting. Still, I hesitated. Was this a trap? Or maybe some sort of trick?
If I left, would Brody send the police chasing after me, to be cuffed and stuffed like a common criminal?
My shoulders slumped. Cripes, probably I deserved it.
More to myself than to him, I said, "It really was an accident."
With that same cold smile, he replied, "Yeah? And when I get payback, we'll call that an accident, too."
"Payback? Like revenge?"
His only answer was a half shrug.
Again, I felt myself swallow. "What kind of revenge?"
"Trust me. You'll know it when you see it."
Fast forward six years, and here I was, enjoying the fruits of Brody's long-delayed revenge – except he'd already told me that he knew nothing of my connection to the house.
What did that mean? Revenge was still somewhere on the horizon?
I shuddered to think.
As far as the truck, I still had no idea why it had exploded like that, or what he'd told the police. I just knew that I never got in trouble, not even a little.
And for some reason, that made me just a little bit nervous.
Chapter 34
Arden – Present Day
As the memories swirled, I looked from brother to brother. Neither one of them looked happy. But hey, I wasn't happy either.
I tried again. "That whole thing with the truck, it really was an accident."
With a low scoff, Mason turned away, not bothering to reply. As he strode toward the house, he called back to Brody, "Just remember what I said."
It took me a moment to recall the last thing he'd told Brody. But soon enough, Mason's exact words came flooding back. "Don't come bitching to me when she torches the place."
I looked to Brody and said, "I wasn't lying. I didn't mean to torch anything."
Brody crossed his arms. "So you said."
"What, you don't believe me?"
"I saw what I saw."
"Which was…?"
"The truck in flames and you with the lighter."
"Yeah, well…" I winced. "I know
