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“I love you,” I say to Jake, biting back the pain as I twist around to fire more.
“I’ll hate you if you die,” he says angrily.
I hear the tears in his voice, taste his pain from here.
“The fire is coming, Lana. Nine minutes exactly now. Get. The fuck. Out of there.”
“Remember that time when we were kids and we found that stick of dynamite in your father’s basement?”
“Don’t, Lana. Don’t fucking do this!” he begs as the tears start to leak from my eyes.
I fire blindly just to keep them from getting closer, lifting the gun up.
“You told us it was too dangerous to mess with, but I convinced you it’d be fun. Marcus and you tried to stop me, but I refused to listen.”
“Damn it, Lana! Get out! Get out now!”
I try to stand again, but I cry out in pain as I drop to the ground one more time. I blink away the tears, blowing out a breath as I continue to stave off the pain that would overwhelm me otherwise.
I wish I hadn’t turned my nose up at the grenade suggestion Jake made a few months ago now.
But I still wouldn’t be able to get out of here in time. It hurts too bad. My leg refuses to move, and without the speed it prevents, it’s pointless.
“You wanted to study it, but I just wanted to blow shit up,” I say, laughing humorlessly.
“Don’t,” he whispers.
“So we blew up that old barn outside of town. I lit the fuse and threw it, and Marcus covered your body with his when it exploded. The explosion never touched me, but the force of it slammed into my back like a solid wall, throwing me across the field. We had no clue it was that powerful.”
“Stop,” he says again, even as I hear a motor roaring in the background.
He should be on his way far out of town by now.
“You explained it to me later. Explained what happened. I was sore for about two weeks. We laughed. It was a brush with death like we’d never experienced, and the adrenaline stayed with us for days. Every time I ached, a jolt of adrenaline shot through me with the memory.”
“Please stop,” he says again, his voice barely a broken whisper.
“You were always right. I was always reckless. I should have listened to you,” I tell him through strain.
“Get out,” he hisses.
“Don’t cry for me, Jake. I’ve survived because of you. You kept me alive,” I say through strain, still firing blindly over my head to keep them pushed back.
“You don’t get to fucking say goodbye!” he barks before the line goes dead.
“Goodbye,” I whisper.
With my wrapped hand that is throbbing with pain, I weakly try to dial Logan. It’s a struggle, but I finally manage.
He answers immediately.
“Please be you,” he says as though he’s in agony.
“I love you,” I say into the earpiece, still firing in the background.
“No. D
on’t do this to me. Fight, Lana. Get out of there. You can do it. I know you can. I’ve seen what you’re capable of.”
