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There was no music playing, just the sound of the tires eating miles of pavement below them. Billie sat quietly in the back, the tension suffocating any words they had. But unfortunately, it was only suffocating the conversation.
Luke could feel the fire burning in his chest, egged on by the quiet of the car and the screaming of his thoughts. He knew Julie could feel it too, the crackling of the bonfire as it spread through his skin and radiated out, threatening to burn whoever came close. It was the first he’d felt it this bright in a long time.
After so many years, he’d gotten control of his disorder and he’d managed to make things work. Through therapy—and yes Alex still wouldn’t shut up about it—and the love of an amazing family, he had found coping mechanisms and he’d grown to bask in the warmth rather than flaying in it.
Better than that, even, as Luke had aged and had children, he’d mellowed further. He wasn’t the hot headed kid Julie had met, but instead, a vibrant beam of sunshine in his family’s life. Having kids had settled something in him and while still fiercely protective, he was a lot calmer than he’d been even just thirteen years ago.
Today, though, was different. In an attempt to be the best parents, and always open for their children, Julie and Luke had the kids talk to therapists whenever they needed. It was just a monthly visit to speak to a trusted adult if their family was too close. They could stop whenever they wanted, but for the most part, the kids liked going and it was beneficial for everyone.
Unfortunately, as hard as Luke had been blinding himself, it also meant he couldn’t ignore Dr. Crystal when he brought up the signs he was noticing. (And Luke tried, but Julie refused to let him pretend it wasn’t happening.) So, they’d set up a family session for today. Luke had been dreading it all week, trying his best to keep the nervous energy away by picking up extra clients at the gym—as he now coached more than participated in fights—but in the end it had done nothing.
“In my professional opinion, I would diagnose Billie with IED.”
The words rang out, bouncing around Luke’s skull, a hissing of flames and guilt. He’d quit listening to Dr. Crystal after that, not wanting to listen to the possible treatments and the reassurances. None of it mattered. Because Luke knew the truth.
Even if they got it under control, even if they managed to find the best treatment options for Billie first, it wouldn’t ever fix it. Billie would forever be predetermined to blow up when the stress hit, to lash out and to hurt others. Billie would forever be destined to live in the same pain Luke did every day that the disorder decided to flare up.
And there was no one to blame except Luke, for allowing this to happen.
The car slid to a stop in the driveway of the Molina residence, but Luke was already out of his seat. Julie only poked her head out of the door, catching his eye for a split moment, all softness and rainwater, “Be careful. If you don’t answer in two hours, I’m calling Alex.”
Luke only gave a stern nod, spinning on the sidewalk and starting a brisk jog to Rose’s. Julie was perfect, always giving him exactly what he needed. And somehow it hurt worse. Because he’s failed her. He’d taken their beautiful child and he’d cursed them with this disorder.
The distance to Rose’s hadn’t changed much from Luke’s old apartment, a good thing since both he and Julie worked there when not traveling, and he was glad it was earlier in the day. It should be fairly empty.
In scent of the gym hit him in the face, but it didn’t relax his muscles like normal. Instead, he tensed further, the smell a reminder of all the times he ran here to save others from his own destructive streak. It was a reminder of the future of struggles Billie would now have to deal with.
Luke slipped past the receptionist, a new girl named Sam that they’d hired as Willie took more time off for the impending opening of his tattoo shop closer to the Mercer-Williamson residence. She smiled at him, cheery and bright, not able to see the flickers of flames in his eyes as they scorched across his heart. Suddenly, he was glad Willie was busy. Luke didn’t want to deal with Alex right now. Not yet.
Into the back room he went, shutting the door behind him and standing, just for a moment, to bask in the absolute agony of the fire spreading through him. He deserved this.
But Billie didn’t.
Billie, sweet, kind, Billie. Billie who only just figured out their identity and name a few years ago. Billie who already has a fighter’s spirit and the heart of Alex, the determination of their mother, and the smile of Reggie. And now Luke has ruined them.
A punch goes out, hard and incorrect, connecting with the rough texture of the punching bag. Skin splits, blood trickles, and Luke feels the inferno blaze.
He ruined his child.
Another hit, this time his left hand, with more force than the last one. Another crack in his skin, more red on the bag. It’s a sick sort of painting, a showcase of Luke’s pain and rage and guilt.
Luke knew this was always a possibility. He agreed to kids anyway. Begged for them, just about.
A rapid succession of hits, each sound echoing through the small back room, bouncing off the walls like taunts as the voice in his head continues. It used to sound like Emily, but now it only sounds like Luke.
And he’d finally thought they’d gotten lucky. All his kids had passed the normal age to be diagnosed, minus Billie. But Luke had buried any signs he saw. Because he couldn’t imagine it. He didn’t want to.
Luke could hear his own voice screaming, feel the hot rush of tears down his face, but the world was fuzzier now, dimmed by heat and pain and desert winds.
Luke had just put one of the heaviest burdens on Billie and there was no way he could ever fix it, ever make it up to his child.
A small voice spoke up, breaking through the cacophony of crackling and guttural screaming. It was soft, but determined. “Dad?”
Luke spun, feeling the flames fizzle down to a dull roar as he made eye contact with his youngest. Billie stood just in the doorway, the same slightly too big overalls from earlier twisted between their fingers. They looked small, but they had the same glint in their eyes they always did. It was the same look in their eyes they’d had when they were born and it was the same one Julie took one look at and declared that this final child of theirs was going to be the toughest and most stubborn kid they had. She wasn’t wrong. Julie was never wrong.
“Billie…” Luke croaked, wiping a hand across his face to rid the tears, but it was no use. They were still dribbling down his cheeks.
A step forward, slow and cautious. “Mama told me you have it, too.”
Luke stayed where he was, silence swirling around him. What was he supposed to say?
Billie walked forward again, closer, standing straighter as they got closer. It was like they were filled with determination from head to toe. It was like they were made of it, made of steel and fierce love. “Mama said you learned to fight to deal with.”
A short nod was all Luke could provide, lungs aching against the heat in his belly.
“Can you teach me?”
And suddenly Luke was on his knees, nodding at his youngest child, taking their offered hand. He dragged them into a hug, gripping them maybe a bit too tight. Small arms wrapped around his neck, pinching his skin, filling him with a different warmth. The soft glow of candles settled into his chest, the whirlwind of fire calming to soft embers.
“It’s gonna be okay, Dad.” Billie whispered and for once, Luke believed it would be. It was hard to argue with a force of nature like Billie, especially as the fire settled back into ash and the coolness washed over Luke’s skin.