by SM Olivier
“Later,” Lochlann insisted before he went running towards the house. “We need to find them. Check the house first. Golden! Kyler!” he immediately began yelling.
It was the first time I had ever witnessed Lochlann close to losing it, and it seemed to prompt me into movement. I began running towards the back of the house. I hoped the flames hadn’t or would reach it by the time we got there.
“Call 9-1-1!” Lochlann hollered over his shoulder.
I realized I no longer had my phone in my hand. It must have fallen on the floorboard of the SUV.
Paxton and I looked at each other. “I got it,” he reassured me as he ran and dialed the numbers at the same time.
As I neared the corner of the house, I stumbled and realized I tripped over a bucket. It looked like the tilers had left their buckets outside. I could see the cleaned floaters leaning against the concrete foundation drying out.
“Over here!” Lochlann yelled from up ahead. “I see them!”
I watched as he reached out to grab the handle of the newly installed French doors and immediately pulled his hand back with a grimace. Zane looked torn between examining Lochlann’s hand and figuring out another way to get into the house.
Lochlann gripped his wrist, shaking his injured hand, and spoke to Zane. I couldn’t hear his words, but I could determine that the handle was too hot even to touch.
Suddenly I was struck with the memory of shows I had watched in the past. Without hesitation, I pulled off my hoodie then my Henley. I needed them wet. The dampened cloth could provide us with a barrier against the hot handles, and if when we were able to get in, we could use it as a barrier against the smoke in the house.
“What are you doing?” Des asked in distress.
“Take off your t-shirt, dip it in the bucket!” I yelled over the roaring fire.
A loud crack like thunder had us both jumping back in shock and fear. I realized then it was the sound of a part of the house collapsing in on itself. Lochlann and Zane screamed Golden’s, Kyler’s, and Sal’s names simultaneously. Their grief-stricken faces were enough to have me moving once more. I balled up my shirt and dunked it into the water bucket. The contrast of the heat from the burning house and cold water was jarring.
Desmond seemed to understand what my intentions were as he removed his coat and t-shirt. As I donned my sweatshirt back on, I watched him dunk his shirt in. I ran ahead, not waiting on him.
I couldn’t control my shriek of devastation as I peered into the house through the French doors. I could see Kyler, Sal, and Golden tied to kitchen chairs. Their heads were lolled forward. I noticed Sal had a wound on his right shoulder, and blood stained the entire side of his body. Golden’s left arm was at an awkward angle, making me believe it was broken. And Kyler didn’t even have a shirt on. I could see the bruises littering his body even from this distance.
I must have been yanking on the door for some time before I realized I could still feel the heat radiating off of it. It would have burned me if I didn’t have my hand wrapped in my cold, wet top.
“It’s locked,” I sobbed.
“Stand back.” Lochlann gently touched my shoulder.
Zane and Lochlann lifted their feet simultaneously and, with great force, sent their shoes into the glass panes. I couldn’t even hear the shattering glass over the sound of the howling fire. Zane barely had his foot removed before I was moving in with my shirt-clad arm. I barely registered the pain as shards of glass scraped across my forearm. I was running on pure adrenaline as I reached up and turned the deadbolt to unlock it.
“Peyton!” Paxton cried in concern as he wrapped his arms around my waist and gently extracted me from the door.
“Kyler! Golden! Sal!” I screamed, my voice bordering on hysterics as I struggled to get out of Paxton’s embrace.
They were so close yet so far away. I screamed once more as another crack rent the air, and I witnessed one of the trusses, barely ten feet away from the guys, collapse. Flames licked the walls surrounding them, swimming slowly over the ceiling above them.
Desmond yanked open the door with his shirt-clad hands as he dropped the bucket at Zane and Lochlann’s feet. “Dip your shirts in the water, try to keep your mouth and nose covered,” he hollered.
I finally broke free from Paxton’s hold and evaded his hands from reaching for me as I stumbled forward. Smoke billowed out and burned my eyes, causing the guys to blur in front of me. I tied my shirt around the lower portion of my face as I heard Paxton and Zane yelling at me to stay outside.
I wouldn’t. I couldn’t. I ran with single-mindedness towards Sal, Kyler, and Golden.
Lochlann reached Golden at the same time I arrived next to Kyler. “Get out of here, Peyton!” he yelled through his mouth covering.
“No!” I yelled back as tears ran down my face, a mixture of panic, despair, and smoke causing them to flow freely.
I knew there was no way I could drag Kyler out, still attached to the chair. My fingers shook as I scrambled to the back of the chair. I didn’t want to see if I could feel a pulse or if I could see their chest rise and fall with each breath. I tried to ignore the bruise on Sal’s jaw and the multiple bruises and cuts on Golden’s and Kyler's faces. I tried to focus on the knots binding them together.
A strangled cry rose from my throat when I realized the knots were tied too tightly. My eyes frantically searched for anything to cut them with moments before my eyes lighted on Kyler’s work boots.
“Please, please, please,” I prayed to God. I was pleading to Kyler.
He had always carried those damn Gerbers around with him. Please, let him have one now.
As I reached into his boot, I noticed Paxton and Lochlann attempting to free Golden, while Des knelt beside Sal. Zane fell beside me and began to struggle with the bindings in vain.
I cried out in relief as my fingers wrapped around the cool steel. I willed my hands to stop shaking as I extracted it. I pushed the side button, and various tools were at my disposal. The blood from my cuts ran down my arm and made my fingers slippery, but I had no extra hands nor time to stave off my own bleeding. It took me three attempts before I located the saw-like knife. I immediately began to work on the rope.
I noticed Des was taking a different approach and had found a box-cutter that must have been forgotten by one of the construction crew. Tickling at the back of my throat indicated that the wet shirt over my mouth and nose hadn’t made me entirely immune to the heavy smoke surrounding us.
“Loch!” I shoved the tool at him before I grabbed Kyler under the armpits.
“He’s too heavy!” Zane yelled at me.
“He’s not!” I insisted.
I knew I was less than half his body weight, but Zane didn’t realize that adrenaline and love could make the slightest of us hella strong. I didn’t doubt my ability to at least be able to drag him to safety. I would have to pray he wasn’t so hurt that moving Kyler would cause further damage. We had no other options.
They had been breathing in this smoke for entirely too long. Kyler, Golden, and Sal’s physical wounds would have to be examined after we carried-dragged them to safety.
Zane must have realized it was fruitless to argue with me, because he popped up and took Kyler’s other side. Together we were able to get him off the chair. I let out a sound when I felt his full weight, but my determination and desolation spurred me forward. With every step we dragged him closer to safety, my mind began attacking me with a vengeance.
I began to wonder if it had been smart to tell the guys about Butch cornering me. I started to blame myself. I shouldn’t have told them. Then Golden wouldn’t have left in a rage, followed shortly by Kyler. I had put them in danger.
“This is probably far enough.” Zane gasped in deep lung-fulls of fresh air.
I blinked, realizing I had been so deep inside my self-flagellation I hadn’t even realized that we had managed to drag Kyler through the house, out of the house, over the patio, and at least thirty yards into the
back yard.
“Stay here,” Lochlann yelled at Zane and me as he deposited Golden beside Kyler, “I’m gonna help Pax and Des with Sal!”
I blinked back my tears and watched as he ran back towards the burning house. I nearly sighed with relief when I finally saw Paxton and Des struggling with Sal’s weight through the smoke. Lochlann was within about ten feet of them.
I turned my attention back to Kyler and reached out my hand to touch his pulse at his neck. I cried out in relief when I realized he had one. Zane was kneeling beside Golden, examining him.
“I got a pulse,” I informed him.
“Me too,” his head was lowered to Golden’s mouth, “and he’s breathing!” he nearly sobbed in relief.
My adrenaline was still racing through my body. Between the sounds of the fire and the sound of my own racing heartbeat in my ears, I was having difficulty feeling or hearing if Kyler was breathing. I tilted his head back to make sure his airways weren’t obstructed and lowered my head once more. When I felt the caress of his breath against my cheek, I collapsed on my butt with relief.
“He’s breathing, but it’s thready,” I sobbed in relief and fear.
They weren’t out of the woods yet. They were unconscious, and even though they were still breathing, we had no clue how much damage Butch and/or his men had done, nor the havoc the smoke had wreaked.
Another loud crack rent the air, and my head snapped back to investigate the noise. I watched in horror as the roof of the house collapsed. My eyes darted from the sound to where Paxton, Lochlann, Des, and Sal had been moments before. I could no longer see them through the flames and smokes. The sounds of fire trucks, police sirens, and a loud high-pitched wail filled my ears.
I struggled to get up and run towards the house. I wanted to investigate the last distressing noise, but my mind was focused on getting back to the house. I needed to find my guys, Sal and Des. It wasn’t until I felt Zane wrap his arms and bodily lift me away from the danger that I realized that the last sound was coming from me. He was crying and shaking his head at me. His mouth was moving, but I was unable to hear a single word.
This time, all my adrenaline and desperation failed me as I tried to free myself and reach my guys.
I bent over, hyperventilating as I inhaled smoke. White spots danced before my eyes as I desperately attempted to breathe. As the black crowded my vision, I realized once again that when my mind was more than willing, my body was failing me. No matter how much I willed my legs to run to Paxton and Lochlann, they couldn’t. No matter how much I prayed that fresh air would fill my lungs, it wouldn’t. No matter how much I fought the blackness threatening to swallow away my consciousness. I had failed.
30
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Emotions Vs. Feelings
Consciousness slowly seeped into my brain, and I attempted to gain my bearings. The tick-tock of a loud clock filled my ears, along with an incessant beeping. I noticed something was snugly affixed to my face, and when I felt the gentle caress of air, I realized it must be a breathing apparatus. I then realized I had an IV attached to my hand.
My eyes opened, and it took some time for the room to come into focus, but I instantly recognized the sterilized environment. The events of the night came rushing back, and I immediately struggled to sit up as I heard a distant sound of a door opening. I looked down and realized, once again, I was in a hospital gown, my arm wrapped in gauze.
I immediately reached up to remove my mask with a single focus. I needed to find the guys. A chasm opened in my chest, and I began to panic as despair reminded me of why I didn’t remember yet another trip to the hospital.
“Lochlann! Paxton!” I called out.
“Everything’s okay,” I heard a stern male voice speak.
“Where are they?” I demanded as my chest tightened.
I grasped my chest in panic as the man proceeded forward, reaching for me. My alarm was now of another kind as I assessed his dark hair and blue eyes. My fractured mind immediately correlated Tormentor's similar coloring with this man, even though my logical side realized this man was older, average looking, and wasn’t nearly as fit.
The pragmatic part of me recognized that he was wearing a white coat with Dr. Harold Madden printed on a badge affixed to the pocket. I saw the stethoscope hanging around his neck and realized he was a doctor.
But that splintered part of me was unable to compute any of those things, and my fight or flight defense mechanism was engaged.
“Noo!” I wailed as I tried to bat his hand away. “No! No! No!”
I began gasping for air as the door was pushed open once more, and a woman dressed in nurse scrubs came running in, followed by Dr. Bryce Baylor.
“It’s okay, Peyton,” Bryce reassured me, gently pushing the other doctor aside and looking at him. “I specifically asked you to wait for my arrival,” he hissed in irritation to the other man.
I’d never seen Bryce show any negativity towards another person. Not even when Diane had crossed a line. That time, he had been cold but in total control of his emotions. He was always pleasant, and his mere presence always calmed me.
“It’s absurd−” the older man began to sputter.
“Your presence is no longer needed,” Bryce harshly cut him off before taking a seat on the edge of my bed.
Without hesitation, he grabbed my hands, holding them in a comforting manner. His own were cool but familiar. I realized I was still thrashing about, and my breathing was coming in shorter gasps.
“Five things that you see, Peyton,” he steadily commanded me.
I was desperately trying to breathe and push the darkness away. It didn’t help that the nurse and other doctor were looking at me like I was a freak. Bryce must have noticed how uncomfortable I am.
“You may leave,” Bryce said in a tone that brooked no argument.
The nurse gave me a sympathetic look. “Page me if you need me, Dr. Baylor,” she said softly.
“But−” Dr. Madden began to protest.
“She’s my patient,” Bryce reminded him callously. “And your presence is causing her further distress.”
Dr. Madden loudly huffed before storming out of the room.
“Five things that you see, Peyton Delaney,” Bryce insisted once more.
Dr. Bryce Baylor was a tall, lean, attractive man. Behind his wire-framed glasses, I had previously noted his eyes were hazel. They were a mixture of greens, browns, and amber. Today, the green− almost the shade of limes− was popping out more than the other colors. They were pretty, a fact I vaguely registered.
“What did you see?” he inquired after a moment or two.
In addition to his eyes, I noted the gauze around my forearm, the dried blood on my wrist, my ring, and the tube sticking out of my hand.
“Your eyes remind me of limes. They’re pretty,” I blurted out.
I immediately saw his cheeks go red as he ducked his head. It was odd to see a man in his mid to late twenties capable of blushing. However, it just comforted me further, noting the quirk.
I knew he was brilliant and had graduated college years before most of his peers. I also recognized he was on the introverted side, despite his personable nature and profession.
“Four things you feel?” he murmured next.
I felt the tightness begin to ease more as I realized that he grasped how Lochlann had calmed me down after my first panic attack. I closed my eyes and sighed, noticing how his hands had warmed up in mine and the gentle caress of his thumb against my palm.
I was conflicted with the warmth that entered my chest. I shouldn’t feel so comfortable with Bryce. I shouldn’t seek the same solace in him as I did with my guys.
“My guys,” I breathed out, my breathing normal once more. “Sal? Desmond?” I added, thinking of my bodyguards and the lengths they had gone through to ensure my safety and that of my guys.
I instinctively knew that Salvatore had somehow, someway found out my guys were in trouble and located them.
Bryce grimaced and began to pull away. I felt lost and bereft without his touch. I wanted the comfort he had brought me. Reflexively, I reached out and grabbed his hand in mine. I didn’t recognize the sound of distress that left me as I started to panic.
Were they okay? Did the police and firemen come in time?!
Holding his hand, I didn’t want to dissect my feelings and emotions with regard to Bryce right now. I knew he represented understanding and familiarity. He had “cared” for me at several low-points in my life.
He seemed to understand my need for the contact, though, and proceeded to continue the feather-light touch of his thumb.
“They’re alive,” he hastily reassured me. “All of them, including your bodyguards.”
Relief flooded me, and my eyes filled with tears at the news. I sagged into myself and immediately felt Bryce pull me against him, gently rubbing my back. Again, his touch brought comfort and confusion.
I leaned my head against his shoulder. He tensed for a moment before he leaned in closer, offering me the support I desperately craved. Then I realized he had said they were alive. Not that they were okay.
“But?” I prodded him in a small voice.
“I’m not sure how much I should disclose.” He grimaced as he looked over his shoulder, ensuring the room was empty.
“Please,” I gently begged him. “Or I’ll go look for them myself.”
He shook his head, and the corner of his mouth lifted slightly. He knew how stubborn I could be. He was silent for a moment, and I realized he was struggling with how much he should disclose to me.
“Kyler and Golden are in ICU. Both suffered from severe smoke inhalation,” he explained softly. “They were beaten pretty severely. Kyler has three broken ribs, a fractured wrist, and a concussion. Golden has a broken arm and hasn’t woken up yet, but all his brain scans appear normal. They’ll probably be here for several days.
“Lochlann and Paxton have mild smoke inhalation. However, they have second-degree burns that we would like to monitor for at least the next twenty-four hours. I imagine they’ll be transferring up here shortly. Paxton,” he gave me a rueful smile, “hasn’t been the easiest patient to deal with.”