Beneath the Stars (Falling Stars #4) - A.L. Jackson Page 0,19
reached over and gulped down more of the fire from the bottle like it could be a balm.
Medicine.
A cure.
It tore up my throat like a slosh of lava and landed in a pool of fury that boiled over in my belly and spilled into my bloodstream.
I could feel it speeding through my veins. Taking over. Filling up the void.
My sight came in and out of focus.
Delirium so close to taking hold.
I slugged back the rest of the bottle, and I welcomed the way consciousness ebbed and flowed. Darkness pressed into my mind and threatened to take me hostage.
It crawled over me like the waves crawling the beach.
Heavy and corrupt and foreboding.
Taking me under and swamping me in my regrets.
I wished I could go back.
Change it.
Stop all of it before it happened.
I slumped back onto the sand and let the darkness take me.
Knowing no matter where I went, how much money I had, how much success I had tacked to my name, that was where I was always gonna be.
Four
Rhys
Six Years Old
“Richard, Emily, Rhys, it’s supper time,” Mrs. Ramsey called from somewhere downstairs, her voice echoing up to Richard’s room.
All three of them scrambled to their feet from where they were building a fort. They went racing out the door to the staircase, each trying to get ahead of the other, their feet pounding on the hardwood as they trampled downstairs.
Way out front, Rhys jumped from the third step. He landed it without toppling over. He threw a fist in the air. “Heck, yes! Did y’all see that? I just nailed it.”
“You’re lucky you didn’t fall and ruin your face,” Emily scolded. She constantly was naggin’ at him and Richard that they weren’t followin’ the rules and were gonna get hurt.
“Pssh. Not a chance. I’m the strongest man in the world.”
“No, you’re not. My daddy is,” she retorted.
“Heck no, my daddy is,” he returned, just a tad louder.
She stuck out her tongue and stomped off to the kitchen.
He figured that meant he won, not that he didn’t think Mr. Ramsey was really cool and strong. But his daddy was just way taller and way bigger and he had about fifteen thousand muscles puffed out all over the place.
Richard laughed. “She’s nothin’ but a sass attack.”
Rhys shook his head. “Girls.”
Richard curled up his nose in disgust, and Rhys almost did the same, except Emily was his best friend, too, and his mama was his favorite person in the world, and he was figurin’ he liked girls just right and fine so he’d better treat ’em with respect like his daddy told him he was supposed to do.
Mrs. Ramsey appeared in the doorway to the kitchen, drying her hands on a towel. “You need to get washed up, Richard, and help your sister set the table. And you better run on home, Rhys…your mama is going to be wondering what you’ve gotten up to.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he told her before he waved at Richard. “See ya tomorrow.”
“Later, Rhys’ Pieces.”
“Bye, Richie-Poo-Poo.”
Cracking up, he hustled out the front door and across the deck, and by the time he was taking the five wooden steps down to the gravel to head in the direction of his house that was on the next property over, he could see the plume of dust rising up behind his daddy’s truck that bounced up the one-lane dirt road.
Rhys took off, racing something fierce up the drive. Without slowing, he ducked down and slipped between the planks of the wooden fence that separated their properties.
His daddy came to a rumbling stop in front of their house, and Rhys pushed his legs as fast as they could go.
His mouth stretched in a wide grin and excitement bumbled in his stomach.
This was his favorite part of the day.
“Dad! Dad! You’re home!”
His daddy cranked open the door and stepped out, his own grin sliding over his sun-weathered face. His work clothes were worn and covered in dirt, his hands stained with years of oil and grease when he swept Rhys right off his feet.
“There’s my rough and tumble.” He ruffled a hand through Rhys’ hair. “Let’s see those muscles.”
Rhys lifted both his arms out to the sides and curled his fists, showing off his biceps. His dad gave ’em a squeeze. “Strong as a horse, my boy.”
“Yep! You won’t even be able to hold me soon I’m getting so big.”
So maybe he was probably already a little bit big. At least that’s what his mama would giggle and say, but Rhys didn’t care.