But she wasn't with me now, and it looked like she wouldn't ever be again. I'd had her for a few hours, and I knew that was more than a lot of people had. I supposed, at some point in the future, I'd be happy I had even that. Right now, however, all I could think about was how much losing her hurt.
I hadn't realized where I was going, or just how far I'd gone, until I looked up and saw the husk of a burnt-out warehouse.
I was back.
My mouth went dry and I leaned against the closest wall. I didn't trust my legs to hold me, not with the way my memories were bombarding me. Each one was like a physical blow. I hadn't realized just how much I actually remembered from that day, but being here was bringing it all back to me.
The first scent of smoke.
The people standing around, watching as I ran inside.
The first little body.
Making the choice to go back.
The heat, more extreme than anything I'd ever felt. Smoldering ashes burning my skin. Nothing even close to what would come later.
I closed my eyes. Dammit!
I hated this. Hated feeling weak and powerless. Hated the way the sight of this place could make me sick to my stomach.
I took a slow, deep breath and tried to focus on coming back to the present. Little by little, my pulse slowed, and the pounding in my head eased. I could breathe a little better, and when I pushed myself off the wall, my legs held me. I didn't look at the building again as I walked away. I didn't want to see it again. This part of my life was over.
I just had to figure out what the hell I was going to do now.
As soon as I could, I raised a hand to hail a taxi. The driver gave me a surprised look but didn't say anything. I wasn't entirely sure where to go. I hadn't lived anywhere in the city that wasn't on the base. Nori would be at her dad's apartment, wherever that was. I could go to a hotel until I figured out what was next, but I'd left my pack at Nori's mom's apartment. I didn't have a key, but Nori would probably go back at some point. I could, at least, leave her a note, let her know where to send my things.
I gave the driver the address and settled back into the seat. My phone buzzed in my pocket, and when I pulled it out, I saw the number for Father O'Toole's lawyer on the screen.
“Hello?”
“Xavier Hammond?”
“Mr. Rowan,” I said. I'd only spoken to him once before, but I had a pretty good idea of what he was calling about.
“I just received your message. You're out of the area for a while?”
“Yeah, San Antonio. I'm not sure how long I'll be here.”
“I can put off the official reading of the will until after the funeral,” he said. “But I wanted to know if you had a money manager you were bringing to the reading or if you needed names?”
I frowned. “Father O'Toole already signed the house over to me, along with the trust for it. Why do I need to bring someone with me?”
There was silence for nearly half a minute. “Did Father O'Toole discuss with you what he was leaving you?”
This was turning out to be a more interesting conversation than I'd thought it would be. “No, he didn't. I was just assuming.”
“Well, uh, it might interest you to know that, aside from the other property and a trust set up for its up-keep, Father O'Toole left everything to you.”
Everything? I knew he came from old money, but I'd never really thought about what that meant before.
“I'm also guessing that means you have no clue what that entails.”
“No,” I admitted. I was almost afraid to know. I'd had far too many life-changing things happen to me in the last couple days. I wasn't sure I could handle anything else.
“I don't have an exact figure,” he said. “But it's upward of half a billion dollars.”
There was a buzzing in my ears and I was pretty sure that meant I heard him wrong. Maybe half a million. That'd be more than I ever expected.
“Say again?”
He gave a soft chuckle. “Yes, Mr. Hammond. You heard me correctly. Billion, with a b.”
“Fuck,” I muttered. I caught the driver looking at me in the rearview mirror.
“Yeah, that pretty much sums it up,” he said easily. “Would you like a list of people I can recommend to help you with things?”
“Yeah,” I said, but I was only half-listening. My brain, which had already been close to overload, had reached the tipping point. “Send me an email, and I'll take a look at it when I get back home. The funeral is supposed to be Saturday.” My heart twisted at the thought of saying goodbye to the only family I'd had left. Then it twisted even more when I realized I'd be doing it alone. “I'll be back by then.”
“I'll have it to you in a couple days. If you need anything else,” he said. “Give me a call.”