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It was blinding, loud, and far too fuckin’ close. The entire metal fence sparked with a loud bang, smoke pluming out in all directions.
Jeremiah was still holding the kids, his back to the fence, sheltering them the best he could. I had Jeremiah’s shirt collar in my fist, not even realising I’d grabbed him. I didn’t know if I was going to punch him or kiss him. My brain hadn’t decided. “Jesus fucking Christ.”
The kids were crying, but Jeremiah wasn’t letting them go.
I think he was kinda frozen with fear, so I slid my hand up his neck, to his head, feeling for injuries. “Are you okay?”
He blinked back to reality and nodded. “Uh, y-yes. I-I think so.”
“Hey,” a man yelled out, running up the street. “Girls? Girls?”
Oh great.
He came into the yard, up the steps, barefoot, muddy, and pale as hell. He snatched his kids from Jeremiah, holding them tight. “I saw. I saw.” He nodded, tears now running down his face. They clung to him, their little arms around his neck, and he looked up at Jeremiah. “You saved them.”
And then, as if all of this was merely the encore, the wind and rain started for the main show.
There was no easing into it.
It hit us, and it hit us hard.
“Inside,” Doreen barked. “Now!”
The dad and two kids, and the news woman and the cameraman, all filed inside. And for one second, in the last remaining moment of daylight, I looked at Jeremiah.
His hands were covered in mud, as were his shoes, and his knee from where he’d slid. He was pale, his stark blue eyes filled with unshed tears. With my hand to his jaw, I pulled him in for a quick, hard kiss to let him know he was okay.
Then we went inside.
* * *
The room wassmall enough to begin with, smaller now when it was filled with so many people. There were two phones on the floor, shining light up in the room. Doreen sat with Suri where they’d sat before. The dad and his two girls sat by them, where we’d sat earlier. The news crew were sitting with their backs to the opposite wall.
No one was speaking.
I pulled Jeremiah down to sit in his chair. “I’ll get somethin’ to wash your hands,” I said, ducking into the bathroom. I wet wads of hand towel and came back out. He pulled his beeping watch off and dropped it to the floor, then he lifted his shirt and ripped off the chest strap—I’d forgotten he was wearing it—and it joined his watch on the floor.
I took his hands and began gently wiping them clean.
He let me do it without complaint, and his hands were trembling, so I knew he was rattled. “You okay?” I murmured. The wind was loud outside, but I knew he heard me.
His eyes met mine, and even in the dark I could see how troubled he was. “I could taste it.”
“I know. I saw.” I got a bottle of water, twisted the cap off, and gave it to him. “Here, drink some.”
He sipped it and I wiped a smear of mud from his temple before dumping all the dirty paper towels into the bin.
Jeremiah looked over to where the dad was still clutching his two girls. They weren’t crying now, but they were still clinging to their dad. “I didn’t mean to frighten them,” Jeremiah said.
The dad was watching us, very obviously seeing me tend to Jeremiah, the soft words and gentle touches. I wasn’t sure if he didn’t like seeing two men together or if he was just in shock in general. “It’s fine,” he said. “You saved them. Thank you. I can’t thank you enough. Scared yourself too, I bet.”
Jeremiah nodded. “You could say that.”
I gave his shoulder a squeeze. “He has a habit of running into dangerous situations with little regard for his own safety.”
He glanced up at me and I gave him a smile to let him know I wasn’t mad. “Saving people’s fine, remember?”
That reminded me... the bird.
