Page 120 of Sweet Oblivion

I curl her against me, trying to use my body as a shield. Keeping the smoke away as I choke on it, trying to find my way back to the door. The floor feels soft under my feet asthe first flames make their way into the apartment just before we make it outside.

The stairs sway beneath my feet as I carry Lane outside into the fresh air, her body unmoving under my hands. I lay her down in the parking lot, away from the building that’s going down any minute.

Tori never leaves our side. She comes to a stop, resting her head against Delaney’s hand.

“Please, baby. Wake up. Come on.” I run my hand over her head, looking for where the blood is coming from and pull it away, soaked. No. This isn’t fucking happening.

She’s limp. God, she’s so limp. And so small. So pale.

I tilt her chin, then pinch her nose and breathe for her.

Once. Twice.

Her chest rises beneath my hands and falls again, empty.

“Come on, baby. Come on. Breathe.”

I lace my hands together over the center of her chest and start compressions.

One. Two. Three. Four.

Her body rocks with each compression, her eyes never opening. And something in my heart shatters.

“Don’t fucking do this, Delaney.”

Five. Six. Seven. Eight.

My arms shake as Hendrix moves across from me. Black soot smears his face.

Nine. Ten. Eleven?—

Sweat drips into my eyes as my arms shake and my wrists scream. “Breathe, baby. Breathe for me.”

I don’t stop when I feel her ribs crack. Don’t stop when Hendrix checks for a pulse and pulls back with pity in his eyes.

“Let me help. You breathe. I’ll do compressions.”

Switching, I breathe into her mouth two more times. Her lips are cold against mine. And I want so badly for her towake up and smile. Wake up and laugh at whatever stupid thing I just said.

Just wake up.

I don’t know how long we go like this, waiting for the ambulance. For help.

I refuse to accept this as our fate. This isn’t how we end.

This isn’t how she ends.

“Please baby. Breathe.” I push two more beaths into her lungs and sit back, waiting for her chest to rise on its own. But it never moves.

I press my lips to her temple. To her head. To her lips.

Memories like snapshots flip through my mind. The first time I saw her in my jersey. The way her entire face lights up when she smiles. The way she clings to me while she sleeps. Cold feet tucked under mine, insisting she needs her space but burrowing closer anyway.

It’s too soon to be over.

Her life cannot be over.

I breathe for her again and again, forcing air into her lungs. Tears fall from my eyes to her face, sending the soot down her cheeks in dark gray rivers. “You promised me,” I break, the words ripping from my throat. “Old and gray and surrounded by beautiful grandbabies. That’s our future, baby. You promised me that future.”