Come Back to Me

Chapter 43

"Ree!"

A half dressed Beth burst into the bedroom yelling my name, a shirtless Thad right on her heels. She fell to the floor next to me and encircled me in her arms, trying to pull me closer and get me to look at her. I was too far gone in my grief to pay any attention to her questions or to accept any comfort from her.

My home.

My family's house.

All of it was gone.

Along with every last item I had of my mother, father, and Riley.

It was a shrine of sorts, I knew that. That was the whole reason Riley and I were trying to get it cleaned out and ready to sell. We needed to move on from our childhood home and all the memories it held for both of us after our parent's death. Eventually, once Riley's murder wasn't so fresh and painful, I would have continued, including his things in the purge.

But now Stephen had taken that chance away from me.

All of my mom's random things she'd collected over our life there. Her ridiculous plastic pink flamingo wine glasses she insisted on using every summer. Her piles of yarn from when she had fixated on crocheting blankets in every color of the rainbow when Riley and I were in elementary school. Her collection of ceramic turtles occupied an entire curio cabinet in the corner of our dining room. Riley had named every single one of them, even when he had grown and moved out. She would call or send a picture of a new one, and he'd christen it with some silly, absurd moniker.

Gone.

My dad's photos. Thinking about all of those boxes going up in flames had me sobbing harder, my stomach twisting and rolling, my coffee churning. Hundreds of photos and decades of moments, including my parents' wedding albums, burned to ash. Photos he took when they first met, first started dating, vacations, the honeymoon, our birth—every major life event captured forever on film, only to be destroyed.

Stolen from me.

Riley's things ... all his things in his room... pictures, clothes, trophies, I wasn't sure what else. I hadn't gotten that far. I hadn't been strong enough to go through his belongings. Why hadn't I done it when I had the chance? Instead of moping around and getting trashed every night, I should have been up there.

Soccer jerseys, comics, posters.

Shot glasses, model cars, ticket stubs.

I'd never know about some of the things hidden away in his messes of books and games or long-lost trinkets from our stupid childhood adventures.

I'd never know.

I wouldn't know.

I didn't know.

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

Breathe...

Breathe...

I can't breathe!

"Reggie!"

Noah was on his knees, holding my face, forcing me to look at him. I couldn't see him. Why couldn't I see him? His thumbs wiped away my tears. I shut my eyes and reopened them. I needed to see him.

"I can't - I can't -I -"

I can't.

I can't.

I can't.

"Reggie, please look at me. Yes, there you go. Look at me."

Blinking, I tried to focus on him.