5. Burn it Down

5

BURN IT DOWN

EVANGELINE

B efore I even set foot inside, I know they’re gone, but it’s still a punch to the gut. The house has been stripped bare.

All the furniture in the living room is gone. I run down the hallway to my mother’s bedroom and find her closet empty and indents in the carpet where her bed used to be. Even the pictures that hung on the wall are gone.

I’m still wearing my apron as I stand in the middle of the living room, the corner of the book jabbing at my upper thigh.

I see his shadow before he steps around the corner.

“What did you do?”

Darren steps into the light, taking in the empty room with its dusty curtains and worn wallpaper as if he had nothing to do with it.

“It always amazes me what some people will give up for money,” he says, eyes trained on me, hands in his pockets as if he’s on a casual walk instead of turning my life upside down—yet again.

“How much?” I demand while clenching my fists.

Darren tilts his head, a few pieces of dark hair falling over his forehead.

“How much did you pay them to leave?”

There’s a flicker of remorse in his expression. “Does it matter?” he asks.

“It matters.” I want to know how much I was worth to them.

“I bought the house for market value, and I paid them an additional sum to be out by the end of the day.” He looks around at the empty house. “I’m impressed they followed through with it.”

My legs start to give out and I have to place my hands on my thighs to steady myself. I let out a small, painful laugh.

“I guess you learned not to overpay people.”

“I would have paid them anything they wanted just to get her and that piece of shit stepfather of yours out of your life,” he admits. “That’s what they asked for, so that’s what I gave them.”

My knees buckle and Darren reaches out to steady me, but I bat him away.

“Are you so angry I left that you’d offer them money just to prove a point?”

“I didn’t do it to prove a point,” he reassures.

“You can’t help fucking with my life!” I yell at him.

“I wouldn’t have to if you had just taken the money and gotten the hell away from them,” he explains. “At least I could have dealt with that, but not this.” He motions around the house in disgust and it’s that look in his eyes that I can’t bear.

I know what he sees.

“What happened to you?” he shakes his head.

I look at him in confusion.

“When I first met you, I was sleeping with one eye open, afraid you’d try to smother me in my sleep,” he jokes darkly. “Then I find you living back here with these people,” he says with disdain.

“She was the only family I had left!” I yell, my voice echoing through the empty room and off the walls.

He raises his voice. “And you are my family!” He taps his chest. “You had five million dollars. You could have gone anywhere. You could have had any life. Instead, you donated it all and came back here to work as a waitress, living with your stepfather,” he accuses. “You cannot ask me to have that knowledge and be fine with it,” he continues.

“I couldn’t keep your money.”

“I know,” he says quietly. “Because you love me.”

“I don’t love you, Darren,” I grit out.

He smiles with that wolfish grin like he knows a secret. “If you say so. You want to deny that you love me, fine. You don’t want to come back to Washington with me? Fine.” He pulls a lighter from his pocket. Flicking it on, he watches the bright red flame dances in the drafty room. “But in no world would I ever accept you living here with them,” he raises his voice.

“So you can hate me all you want, but I’ll sleep well knowing they’re far away from you,” he grits out, snapping the lighter closed.

He takes a step forward, grabbing my hand roughly and placing the lighter in my palm. “The house is yours, Evangeline. I bought it for you. Burn it down if that’s what you want.”