Rowdy || 18+ || RH

Chapter 47

I take off in an almost run towards the two of them, stopping only when I'm inches away.

"I'm so sorry, Carol," I whisper, my own tears falling freely now. I wrap my arms around her. Her body shakes in my arms, trembling.

She pulls back and looks at me, her eyes filled with despair. "I just don't know how this could have happened."

Jenna joins our embrace, turning it into a group hug. We stand there for a moment, a little island of grief amid the chaos. "We'll figure it out, Carol. One step at a time," Jenna says softly.

Carol nods but says nothing. Her eyes go back to the firefighters, her body tense as though she could will them to save her life's work with just her gaze.

I feel a hand on my shoulder and turn to see Marx. His face is a mask of concern and sadness, his eyes meeting mine as if asking for permission to share in this moment of loss. I nod slightly, grateful for his presence.

"We should talk to the firefighters, see if there's any news," Jenna suggests, breaking the silence.

With a heavy heart, we make our way to a firefighter who seems to be in charge. Carol's voice shakes as she asks, "How bad is it? Can it be saved?"

The firefighter removes his helmet and wipes sweat from his forehead. "We're doing our best, ma'am. It's too early to say."

Carol nods, her face pale, her eyes red. Every second feels like an eternity as we wait, hope and despair waging a war inside me.

Finally, after what seems like hours but is probably only thirty minutes, the firefighter walks over to us again. "I'm afraid the building isn't salvageable. The damage is too extensive. It's going to have to be rebuilt entirely."

Carol's face goes white, her eyes widening in disbelief. The words hang in the air like a death sentence. This is more than just bricks and mortar burning; it's years of hard work, dreams, and memories turning to ash.

"I'm so sorry," the firefighter adds, his voice tinged with genuine regret.

Carol looks like she's been slapped. She takes a deep, shuddering breath, attempting to hold back fresh tears. "Thank you for doing what you could," she manages to say, her voice barely above a whisper.

As he walks away, Carol's legs seem to give out, and she stumbles. Jenna and I catch her before she falls, helping her to a nearby bench. We sit in heavy silence, watching the firefighters pack up their gear, the crowd beginning to disperse. The finality of it all hits me like a ton of bricks.

"My husband has been saying it was time for me to retire," Carol says, her voice quivering. "Maybe this was a sign that he was right."

My heart clenches at her words. "Don't say that, Carol. This bakery is your dream, your life. One accident shouldn't take that away from you."

Jenna chimes in, "Emersyn's right. We can rebuild, make it even better."

Carol looks at us, her eyes searching our faces. "Can we, though? I've poured my entire life into this place. And now, it's gone. Just like that."

The heartbreak in her voice steals my words. Before I can say anything, Carol speaks again. "My husband is here. I'm going to go home and rest. Thank you, girls, for rushing out here for me, for the bakery."

Both Jenna and I exchange hugs with Carol, not knowing what else to do, to say.

"I don't think I'm going to rebuild, girls. I just don't know if I have it in me."

I feel a lump in my throat as Carol walks away. I look over at Jenna and see that she's crying again. I can't help it; tears start to fall down my cheeks too. I've only been at the bakery for a few months, but it feels like one of the biggest losses of my life. I can't imagine working anywhere else.

When I lost my last job, I applied to dozens of places and never heard back. The thought of going through that again, of not being able to work at the bakery, devastates me.

I feel a hand on my arm and look up to see Marx. Without a word, I turn and press my face into his chest, crying harder. He wraps his muscular arms around me, cradling me as my tears soak through his shirt. He doesn't complain, doesn't say anything. He just holds me, and for a moment, I let myself forget everything— the fire, the loss, the uncertain future. I cry.

"Emersyn," Marx whispers.

I look up into his eyes, finding a quiet strength there. He doesn't say more; he doesn't need to. His eyes convey what words can't. He's here for me, and somehow, that gives me a tiny sliver of comfort.

I rest my head back on his chest. I could get used to being this close to Marx. I inhale deeply, breathing in his scent. How does he always smell so damn good?

His touch is firm but soft at the same time.

I feel safe here, in his arms. Like nothing could hurt me or make me sad ever again.

"We should head back," Marx finally says, his voice soft but resolute.

I nod, pulling away reluctantly. "Yeah, let's go."

As we walk back to his van, I feel his hand rest gently on my lower back. The warmth from his touch seeps through my T-shirt, grounding me. It's a simple gesture but incredibly comforting, and I find myself leaning into it just a little.

He opens the van door for me, waiting until I'm settled into my seat before closing it softly. Marx gets into the driver's seat and starts the engine. The van hums to life, but it sounds distant, like background noise in a dream. My thoughts are still stuck on the burnt remains of the bakery, the place that had become a second home to me.

As Marx drives, I find myself staring out the window, lost in thought. The world outside is a blur, shapes and colors that I barely register. My mind is a maze of emotions and what-ifs. What if I can't find another job? What if this is the universe telling me I'm not cut out for this? What if—

"We're here," Marx's voice pulls me out of my spiraling thoughts.

I look around, realizing we're back home. How did we get here so quickly? It feels like just seconds ago, we were standing in front of the crumbling bakery.

My body feels weak when I step out of the van. It's like all of my energy has been drained. My legs barely work to hold me up, let alone move me. Maybe I'll just lie down in the yard.

Marx's hand is on my back again, I hadn't even seen him walk around to my side. With a gentle push, Marx guides me inside. He walks to me to my room and helps me lie down. He says something, but I don't hear what it is. He covers me up and turns off the light, leaving me to rest.