I expected to be nervous when Celeste pulled up in front of the hospital and told me she had to leave to pick up Skylar, but oddly enough I was fine. It didn’t scare me that I was on my own, about to take a giant leap all by myself. With a sudden burst of confidence, I held my head high and entered the hospital. As I waited for the elevator, I thought about what I might say to Jagger, remembering how awkward I felt the first time we interacted.

It wasn’t until I reached Jagger’s door that my nerves got the best of me and I felt like I was going to puke. Still, I sucked it up and put my big girl panties on. My brother and I had lost too much time already.

Too many birthdays we’ll never get back.

Knocking on the door, I softly nudge it open and step inside. My eyes find his and a smile spreads across his face. Wide and genuine, just like I remember.

“Hi,” I whisper, closing the door softly behind me.

“Hey yourself,” he greets, sitting up straight in the bed. “Look at you,” he murmurs.

Nervously, I tuck my hair behind my ears and smile slightly.

“Thanks for the makeover,” I tell him, walking further into the room.

“I’m glad you had a good time,” he says.

The silence stretches between us and uncomfortably I look around the room.

“Ally,” he calls, demanding my attention. Our eyes lock and he draws in a deep breath. “I’ve missed you, I’ve missed you so fucking much.”

Pleading with myself not to cry, I blink and digest his words. I don’t know why I ever doubted he cared. Deep inside I knew it was impossible for him not to.

“I’ve missed you too,” I murmur.

“We don’t have to talk about what happened, but I want you to know I never gave up on making the people responsible for your disappearance pay, and I won’t now either. I’m going to give you justice, Ally. If it’s the last thing I do in this world, I’m going to give you peace.”

“It won’t change anything,” I argue.

“Maybe not, but I’m still going to do it.”

“You’re still stubborn, I see.”

He smiles at that and I’m thankful for the break in heaviness.

“And you’re still a wiseass.”

“I guess some things don’t change,” I agree.

“Like birthdays,” he adds.

“I guess I should wish you happy birthday,” I tease.

“Only if you want me to wish it back,” he replies with a wink.

Feeling a little more comfortable, I drop my guard and lean back in the chair. The memories flood me and this time I don’t push them away. I let them play in my mind like a movie reel.

“Do you remember our birthday parties?”

“You mean our baby showers?”

I laugh and in return so does he. Our mother combined every birthday party, but themes weren’t something we got to pick. After driving her crazy, fighting over Ninja Turtles and Barbie, hats and horns, she gave up. That’s when she stopped asking what kind of birthday party we wanted and decorated everything in pink and blue.

“It was ridiculous,” I say through my laughter.

“At least we got separate cakes.”

“But we always blew out the candles at the same exact time.”

“You remember that,” he says and I nod. “It’s been a long time since we blew out the candles together.”

It has and at that moment I wish we had a cake in front of us because I want that moment again. Maybe some memories are meant to be dust. Maybe we’re meant to recreate them in this new life in some way. Remembering the book of matches in my pocket, I lift my hips and reach for them. Quietly, I rub the book between my fingers before lifting them up.

“Want to improvise?”

“Hell yes.”

Flipping the top, I tear one match from the strip and strike it against the back. A flame flickers, creating a soft glow and I stretch my arm out as we both lean forward.

“One…two…”

“Three,” he whispers.

And like every childhood birthday, we both blow in unison, silently making a wish. We never told one another what we wished for and we wouldn’t now either, but I think we both wished for the same exact thing this time.

Another birthday.

Another year.

And another one after that.

A second chance.

A new beginning.

“I bet mom is smiling,” he says softly. Lifting my gaze to his I watch as he closes his eyes and his features fill with regret. Licking his lips, he shakes his head and clenches his fists. I learn in that moment, no matter how much someone tries to hide something, the truth always has a way of revealing itself. Even if he didn’t mean to say the words, I’d eventually know what he was about to say. I know this because if I look close enough, I can see the life and death of my parents in his eyes.

On his skin, through the ink that tells the story of our fallen family.

“Ally,” he starts but I shake my head.

“You can’t take it back,” I whisper. “Tell me,” I insist, already knowing what he’s going to say.

Already knowing she’s gone.

My mother.

My beautiful mother.

It makes sense.

All this time, I kept wondering where she was and why her and my father weren’t around, why there weren’t there to take me in and welcome me. I know I asked a few times but every time my question fell on deaf ears and it was easy for me to push them out of my head because I was so used to living out of sight, out of mind.

“Are you sure?” he asks.

“Tell me,” I demand, feeling the tears slide down my cheeks. “Say it, Jagger, because your eyes already have. She’s gone, isn’t she?”

“I’m sorry.”

“And dad?”

Silence.

“No,” I sob.

My body trembles as I rock back in the chair and cry. A million questions race through my mind as my heart splits wide open. Pushing down the sheet, Jagger slides off the bed and makes his way to me. He grabs my hands and sits at the foot of the bed.

“I didn’t want to tell you yet.”

“How? Were they together? Was it an accident? Jagger, tell me! They were my parents too!”

Swiping his hands down his face, he tries to hide his red eyes and I see the tattoos on his hands.

Mother on one hand.

Daddy on the other.

A tribute to the two people who brought us into this world.

The two people I never got the chance to say goodbye to.

The two people who died thinking they’d finally be reunited with their daughter.

When Jagger drops his hands, his eyes again give away the truth as his voice speaks the dreaded words.

“They were killed.”

I traded my bike for the truck and dropped her presents off at the motel. Deciding her birthday celebration would begin once we got back, I’d make her open her gifts and then I’d ask her to ride. I couldn’t remember the last time I had a woman on the back of my bike, clinging to me as we rode until the gas ran out.

That was going to be the plan for tonight.

Ignoring the devil on my shoulder warning me I was playing with fire, I made my way to the hospital. I park the truck and head for the elevators, figuring I’ll check in with Ally before I visit Linc. He’ll probably throw me out of his room and tell me to go fuck myself, but I’m not a quitter.

Pushing the button for Cobra’s floor, the elevator doors close and my phone rings. Smiling to myself, I reach into my leather jacket and count how many times Ally’s called or texted today. If it was any other girl, I probably would have dragged my ass to Verizon and changed my number. Fuck, I would have blocked her ass too.

Lifting the phone to my ear, I start to greet her but my words get stuck in my throat when I hear her sob.

“Where are you?” she shrieks.

“Ally, what’s going on? What happened?”

Choking on her sobs she doesn’t answer me right away and my pulse begins to race as I drag my fingers through my hair. Every possible fucked up scenario beats me down as she continues to hyperventilate. I like to think of myself as a man who doesn’t get spooked easily. A man who has lived hard and seen the things I have doesn’t do fear. He doesn’t let that shit affect him. Until he stands in an elevator listening to a woman cry. I swore it wouldn’t happen again; that I wouldn’t be the useless guy standing with his dick in his hand.

“Ally,” I shout desperately into the phone.

The elevator sounds, alerting me that I’ve made it to Cobra’s floor and I’m about to charge out of it when the doors slide open and Ally stands in front of me. Holding the phone to her ear, crying uncontrollably, she lifts her eyes to mine and relief washes over me.

I barely have a chance to spread my arms before she runs into them. Clinging to me like I’m her salvation, she drops the phone and the elevator closes as I wrap her tightly in my arms.

“You’re okay,” I breathe against the top of her head. “I’ve got you.”

“Please don’t let go,” she cries, burying her face in my chest.

There isn’t a fucking chance in hell I’d let her go now, but I keep that to myself, unsure if the words will make it past the lump in my throat. Leaning against the back wall of the elevator, I continue to hold her as she cries and the elevator makes its way back down to the main lobby.

Once the doors open again, I pull back slightly and cup her face with both my hands. Her upturned nose is red from crying and for some reason I bend my knees, pressing my lips to the tip.

“You’re okay,” I repeat, staring into her red rimmed eyes.

“They’re dead,” she whimpers. “My parents are gone, and it’s all my fault.” Her lower lip quivers as she stares back at me, eyes pleading to take away her pain.

I wish I could.

I wish I could erase every bad thing that’s ever happened to her. I wish I could restore her faith in the world.

In life.

The thing is; I don’t know where to begin or how to be what she needs.

Cradling her to my side, I usher her off the elevator and out of the hospital, stopping every so often to place a kiss on the top of her head, reminding her she’s not alone and that this is one horrible thing she doesn’t have to face by herself.

From the first time she mentioned her parents, I knew Ally would break at the revelation. No one wants to hear the awful news of their parents’ death and they sure as hell don’t want to hear that they were murdered. None of us, not me nor her brother or even Celeste, could have prepared Ally for the truth.

Believing they gave up on her and that they mourned her all these years kept Ally somewhat sane. Angry and hurt, yes, but still sane. Learning they never gave up on her, that they made it their life’s mission to find her and bring her home where she belonged was a complete shock to her. Add the revelation that the man who took her was the same man who killed her parents and it becomes too much for anyone to handle, let alone a woman who’s fighting to reclaim her life.

Fearing she’s going to revert to her old ways, that she’ll give up on herself and desperately want to forget—to become numb—I rack my brain trying to find a way to make it right. To ease her grief and dull her pain.

Buckling her into the passenger seat, I step around the truck and climb in beside her. Starting the car, I immediately reach for her hand as I drive with only one on the steering wheel. The tears slowly come to a stop but she doesn’t speak. I watch from the corner of my eye as she mindlessly stares out the window.

Stopped at a red light, I turn to her, willing her to look at me. Getting no response when I squeeze her hand, I take notice of all her features. Her pale skin is blotchy from crying and her eyes are slightly swollen. Her plump lips lack any color and when she tucks a strand of her hair behind her ear, I realize the difference in it. It’s shorter, shinier and colored a rich brown. Despite the sadness masking her face, she’s beautiful.

Really fucking beautiful.

And when she smiles, when she puts the pain aside, she’s gorgeous.

Stunning even.

A fucking knockout.

The light changes and I regretfully tear my eyes away from her. Five minutes later, I kill the engine of the truck and stare out the window at the motel.

“We’re here,” I announce, waiting for her to acknowledge our arrival. “Do you want to go somewhere else? I’ll take you wherever you want to go?”

“You can’t take me where I want to go,” she whispers. “And if you could, I’m sure you wouldn’t,” she adds, reaching for the door handle.

Before I can argue with her and tell her she doesn’t need to escape, she’s out of the car. Quick to follow her, I climb out of the truck and jog across the parking lot to catch up to her.

“Ally, wait,” I call as she slides her key into Cobra’s room.

“Leave me alone, Deuce,” she cries as she pushes open the door.

Reaching her, I shove my foot in the doorway before she can close it in my face and force my way inside.

“Don’t do that,” I growl. “Don’t fucking shut me out because you’re ready to give up on yourself. You think I don’t know what you want? You think I didn’t catch you digging your nails into your arms while we drove here?”

“Stop fooling yourself,” she sneers, turning around to glare at me. “Stop pretending I’m more than a junkie. This is me,” she shouts, poking her thumbs against her chest. “This is who I am. I can dye my hair and change the way I dress, but at the end of the day I’m the lost girl who needs drugs more than she needs air.”

Whimpering the last sentence, her body trembles and cracks what’s left of my resolve. Yearning to heal, wishing to mend, I stare into her grief-stricken eyes. She wraps her arms around herself and before I can think about my actions, I reach for her. Grabbing her wrists, I bend my knees and make us eye level.

“That’s not who you are, darlin’,” I murmur, linking our fingers together.

Searching my own eyes, fresh tears spill from hers as she squeezes my hand. In that moment it’s easy to forget who she is, it’s easy to forget she’s a responsibility, a commitment or a duty. In that single fucking moment, she’s just Ally.

Plagued by torment, drowning in a sea of grief, she’s my girl.

My beautiful and broken girl.

“I want to forget,” she whispers. “I need to be numb,” she adds deflated.

“You don’t need to forget and you don’t need to be numb,” I rasp as I grasp for control. Closing my eyes briefly, I try to find the right words, something that will make sense to her. Something that’ll make her realize she’s more normal than she thinks.

“There are things we’re meant to feel and grief is one of them,” I start, drawing in a breath. “We’re wired to have feelings. We’re supposed to be sad and experience pain, that’s part of life. It’s normal to be sad. It’s normal to hurt. It’s normal to feel. Let yourself feel,” I say roughly.

Her eyes darken and danger calls as her gaze briefly drops to my mouth.

The ground quakes.

The wind changes.

I feel it all and ignore it all the same.

Licking my lips, I count the freckles on her nose, silently waiting for her to give me her eyes. That alone should have knocked some sense into me because a man can get lost in those eyes and never be found. Pulling her hands from mine, our eyes lock and Jesus, fuck, I’m helpless to the kryptonite that is Ally.

Rising on her tip toes, she wraps her arms around my neck and the feral need to possess burns through me.

Fire.

Painfully aware this isn’t like before, this isn’t me nonchalantly rewriting her first kiss or recklessly kissing her in a store because she’s cute as fuck. This is bigger than that, this is the stuff you don’t forget. The shit that can’t be erased once it’s done. This is a forever kind of thing.

It’s fire; dangerous fire that’s stirring between us and as she threads her fingers through my hair all I can think about is how much I want it. How badly I want to douse myself in her flames.

“Ally,” I growl.

Her name is meant to be a warning, but who I’m warning? I don’t know because as I say it I already know it’s too late. We’re trapped in this fire we’re creating and the flames crawling up our bodies will turn us to ash.

“Prove it,” she dares, diverting her eyes to my lips. “Make me feel something I’m supposed to feel,” she pleads. Something shifts between us and she’s no longer the one fiending. Suddenly, I’m the addict and she’s the drug.

I can feel her breath against my lips.

Hot and heavy.

Desperate and wanton.

Fucking lethal.

“We’re playing with fire,” I tell her as I take her face in my hands. “Beautiful fucking fire.”

Then she strikes the match.

“Then let’s burn.”

And burn we do.

We burn so fucking bright we light up the darkness imbedded in one another’s soul.