Playing with Fire

✨ Chapter Eighteen | Anchor

— Carlos —

The air felt like it had been ripped straight out of my lungs. Dust clouded everything and somewhere in the haze, people screamed, their voices sharp and desperate. The stage was gone, replaced by splintered wood and a tangle of bodies. I couldn't tell what was worse: the eerie silence from parts of the crowd or the chaos from the rest.

I blinked, struggling to make sense of the scene as my ears buzzed. Had Tommy seriously just fucking hit me with the same wrench he used to dismantle the stage? My mind blurred, and pain radiated from my side—sharp and insistent—but I forced myself to ignore it. Gritting my teeth, I pushed myself up onto trembling arms. My fingers brushed against the gravel, and the metallic taste of blood lingered in my mouth. Tommy had gotten to me, but everything was happening so quickly I hadn't even seen where he'd gone.

"Chuck!" I called out, my voice hoarse.

There was no way he heard me; I was too far from the stage. I hadn't caught why, but the entire crowd had erupted into some sort of violent rally right before I watched the stage fall apart. 

I had never imagined our positive fundraiser for Colton to help those in need would end up like this—in sabotage, organizations pulling their support because I was too effeminate, arguments over details with friends, and endless finger-pointing. The entire time we'd been planning this, we'd been fighting hateful nonsense. None of this was in my vision. None of this was how it was supposed to go. Our rally couldn't end like this. 

Panic clawed at my throat.

That's when I saw him again.

Tommy.

Standing just a few feet away, silhouetted by the harsh glare of motorcycle lights cutting through the dust. He loomed over me, his posture tense, his expression twisted into something unrecognizable. In his hands, the same wrench—large, heavy, and raised high above his head. For one horrifying second, I thought he was just another person in the hazy crowd trying to help. But his eyes told a different story. They burned with fury, with something primal and unhinged.

Time slowed.

My body screamed at me to move, but my mind couldn't catch up. Why was he doing this? What had pushed him to this breaking point?

And then it hit me.

Every snide comment. Every moment he lingered too long, watching Chuck and me with that forced smile. The tension that had simmered just beneath the surface every time Chuck showed up to help. I'd brushed it off, too focused on keeping the rally afloat to connect the dots. But now? Now it all made sense.

"You don't deserve any of this," Tommy spat, his voice ragged. His chest heaved, his grip on the wrench tightening. "You. Him. All of it. It's not fair."

The words cut through me, sharp and bitter. I opened my mouth to respond, but my voice caught. Instead, memories of my own failures came rushing back, fast and unforgiving.

Austin's note on the counter. The café dream crumbling around me. The empty bank account and emptier apartment. I'd thought I'd left that person behind, the man who lost everything and couldn't even see it coming. But here I was again, facing another man who had blindsided me and believed I was unworthy of good things.

No. Not this time.

I wasn't that man anymore. I'd fought too hard, built too much to let it all fall apart because of someone else's jealousy. Because someone couldn't see that this rally, this community, was bigger than the problems any one of us were facing.

I dug my hands into the gravel, pushing myself to my knees as Tommy stepped closer, the wrench glinting under the harsh lights.

"You're wrong," I said, my voice steadier than I expected as I stood in front of him, fully aware that he could knock me out with a single swing. "This isn't about what's fair. Life isn't fair. It's about love—for everyone, no matter what. It's about showing up for people, especially when they need it most." I locked eyes with him, my pulse pounding in my ears, but I didn't waver.