Wyatt
Suckinginadeepbreath, I arch my back, feeling a decent crack as I stretch out my legs. Letting the air out of my lungs, I curl my arm tighter around the little temptation curled up beside me.
Bryn lets out a soft sigh but doesn’t stir further than that. Sleep pulled us both under after a long make out session where I had her coming on my fingers again, and then on my face. A smile tugs at my lips at the memory, and I have half a mind to wake her to repeat it all. She still lingers on my tongue, even now, and I lick my lips, wanting nothing more than to have a fresh meal.
The thought has my eyes cracking, drifting to look at the clock on Bryn’s microwave in the kitchen.
3:07AM.
I can see it from our place on her couch, the open concept living room and kitchen making it easy. It’s dark besides the light from the clock and the soft glow of the TV that has a repeating video of horses galloping through fields and forest as a screensaver.
A diesel truck running idle nearby has me trying to clear the sleep from my eyes, making me realize that the red in the room isn’t from the TV. One of the living room windows, the one with a few plants hanging near it, must face the street. Physically spent after the evening, I don’t understand why there’s a red strobe light that wasn’t there when we fell asleep a couple hours ago.
A door shuts outside, then a second, and finally a third. Voiceshave me perking up a bit more, and I rub a hand over my face. That’s when it dawns on me what the lights are.
Firetruck.
Some firefighter I am.
Despite not wanting to leave the warm body at my side, curiosity has me sliding out from beside her to look out the window. Like Bryn’s nosy neighbor who always seems to watch when we pull in the driveway.
I catch sight of them just as they disappear from my view. The bushes prevent me from seeing a lot between the fencing pickets, but they’ve all definitely crossed the lawn and are headed to the house.
“I’m cold,” a mumble comes from the couch, and I glance over to find Bryn pulling the blanket up higher around her neck. “Come back.”
“I think there’s something going on at your landlord’s,” I tell her, glancing back out the window. The firefighters have disappeared from my sight.
“What?”
The screech in her voice has me spinning in time to see her bolt upright. A quarter of a second later she’s flying off the couch, and before I know what’s happening, she’s racing towards the front door.
“No, no, no,” she cries out as she goes.
“Bryn!”
Taking off after her, both of us in only our underwear, I get to her just as she reaches her front door. My arms circle around her before she gets it open, but the second I’ve got her locked down, she’s fighting me.
“Let me go!” she screams.
“Bryn!”
“Get off of me!”
She’s kicking, twisting, and throwing her fists, reminding me of a spooked bucking horse. My heart feels like it’s lodged in my throat, not understanding her panic, but knowing I can’t let her go running out there without anything on.
My arms tighten until she can only squirm, and I press her between the back of her couch and my body. My lips are at her ear, my training kicking in to stay as neutral and calm as I can. “You are naked. You need to put something on, okay?
“I don’t care,” she wails, but some of the fight has left her. “I need to make sure she’s okay. Please, please let me go. Wyatt, please.”
Her fear hits me like a ton of bricks, my heart breaking at the cracking in her voice. I tamp it down, my need to protect her overriding everything. “Your dress is right here. Let me help you put it on. Okay?”
“Please,” she begs, but nods along with the word.
Not sure I’ve ever helped a female get dressed, but I’d guarantee this is the fastest I’ll ever do it. It takes me thirty seconds to get her dress over her head and her arms through the straps, and then she’s taking off out the door. I’m not far behind her. Thankfully, my clothes are on the floor in the living room as well, and I pull on my jeans, racing out of the guest house after her, fumbling with my t-shirt as I go.
Bryn is nowhere to be found, but I can hear her voice coming from an open doorway at the side of the main house, panic-stricken. Asking what happened. Calling for… Gran.
Oh, fuck.
