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“Kid, say a fucking prayer.”
She screams when I swing my body, gathering what remains of my courage and strength.
I release the pipe at an angle and hold my breath.
My feet touch the top, narrow curve of the wall that stands at about seven feet high. I bend into a crouch and grip the underside of the curves with my fingers.
I don’t sway.
I don’t fall.
I don’t feel pain.
I landed it. I fucking dropped fifteen feet onto a wall the width of my mother fucking shoe and I LANDED IT.
“Oh my God.”
There’s more screaming and people race our way. I see a blur of faces as I clamber down from the wall into the neighbor’s yard and collapse onto solid, cool grass.
The sobbing girl is removed from my back and I’m sprayed with a cooling mist and dragged to my feet.
“She’s burned her hands,” I say, sounding like a fifty-year-old male smoker. “But I think she’s okay.”
“Don’t you EVER do something like that again,” Stanley yells, trembling as he hugs me tight. “You stupid, brave, foolish, idiotic, moronic, idiotic, foolish, stupid girl.”
“Running out of adjectives there, Stanley?” I ask hoarsely, grinning up at his face.
“You’re a hero, kid, never seen anything like that,” the fire chief tells me, shaking my hand until I cough in his face and he ushers me to an ambulance.
I see Presley hugging and kissing his sister as her hands are looked at by paramedics. A mask is forced over my face and I’m led towards an ambulance.
“I’m fine,” I say but even I’m not sure of that. My throat is constricting. The oxygen feels nice in my throat.
People clap as I pass, they cheer my name, but it’s as I’m being told to get on a gurney and I’m arguing about it that I’m suddenly spinning around to face another.
A hand grips my head, my mask is tugged away, and lips crush my own. I emit a squeak and my eyes widen as Presley hardens the kiss, hurting my lips in a way that I don’t mind.
He pulls back, hand tangled in the underside of my braids. It pulls on my scalp but I’m not bothered about that either.
“I owe you my life,” he tells me, unashamed of the tears falling from his eyes. “I owe you everything.”
He kisses me again, and for a moment, I lose myself in it. A moment shared between two people on the edge of tragedy.
Stanley yanks him away, forcing us to stop.
“She needs checking over, fuck off back to your own ambulance.”
I sit on the gurney, dazed, with a body on fire and not because of the burning building.
I’m running on pure adrenaline right now.
I can’t believe any of that happened.
Hospitals suck ass.
“I’m fine, I want to go home.” I’m whining but I’m tired, I’m smoky and I need a shower.
Lane chooses this moment to walk in with a bag of toiletries and clothing.
“I got shampoo, conditioner, shower gel that smells like candy…” She lists everything, sounding breathy and emotional as she goes. Her eyes fill with tears and then she suddenly blurts, “How could you be so stupid?”
“I’m okay,” I reply, husky and painfully.
I take the bag from her and step into her embrace for the first time since we met. She squeezes me so tightly I can hardly breathe and my already aching body gives a twinge of protest.
“You won’t believe us, why would you? You hardly know us. But we do care about you. We love you.”
Stanley joins in, wrapping his big arms around both of us.
“Guys,” I mumble on a throaty laugh while squished between them. “Can I shower now?”
They shove me towards my en suite. Got to love private healthcare.
What they don’t see as I’m closing the doors are the tears sliding down my cheeks from her words.
They love me. Do they mean it?
I hope so because my heart has never felt so full.
I shower under a lukewarm, not hot spray because my skin feels really prickly and tight. I triple wash my body and hair but the scent of smoke lingers in my nostrils.
I’m lucky I didn’t lose my hair, I’m also very grateful that I came out unscathed.
I’m eager to see if Paisley did too but Stanley wouldn’t let me leave the room to find out.
I dry and dress in brand-new pajamas, Lane must have gone to the store on her way. She’s so sweet and thoughtful.
My body is snug and soothed in the super soft, white and purple striped button-up and matching pajama pants.
When I exit with a towel in my hair, Lane pulls it free and combs through the tresses for me. I close my eyes and relax, letting her braid my hair like a mother would. Like my mother should but never has. It’s tingly and soothing. It almost makes me want to sleep.
