I bury my thoughts and stare out the window, noticing the signs for Crete. Damn, how long was I in my head?
“We’re here. It says Clara’s house is down this road.”
I sit up straighter, ready to fly out of the car as soon as her house comes into view. My heart starts to beat in loud thumps with each second that passes. Kipley pulls into the driveway of a rundown ranch, and we both rip at our seatbelts and bolt out of the car.
My feet pound against the gravel as I run up to the house. My hand forms into a fist, and I pound with force on the front door. I lean to the side to peer through the open blinds and choke on my own breath. A real-life nightmare plays out in front of my eyes, the hairs on my neck bristling in horror.
My eyes crash into Braydon’s as he stands there holding a lit lighter. Seconds feel like years before he finally breaks contact and tosses the lighter in the air, making contact with the drapes. A burst of flames explode up the wall.
Something inside me breaks, and a thunderous rumble expels up my throat as I throw my body into the door. I ignore the punishing snap in my shoulder as I rear back and throw myself into the locked door again, the wood splintering. Kipley takes quick notice of the smoke and rushes to help me and we both plow though, snapping it off its hinges.
Braydon flinches at our intrusion, then sticks his heel into the carpet and takes off toward the back of the house. “Levi, wait!” Kip calls out for me, but I ignore him, along with the smell of burning wood and smoke. I sprint after Braydon, my adrenaline taking over. He makes it into the kitchen, stumbling over something, giving me the chance to reach him. I leap at him, wrapping my hand around his ankle as we both plummet to the kitchen floor. I grunt in pain, feeling another jolt to my shoulder, but push it away.
“Get off me—”
I climb up his body, my knee crushing him in the stomach as I rear my hand back and pummel my fist into his face. “You motherfucker! Where the fuck is she!” Again, I smash my fist into his face. “Where the fuck is she!” I howl, losing my mind. The crackle of burning wood echoes around us. Black smoke billows across the kitchen, filling my lungs. I cough, rear my clenched hand back, and slam into his face again. “Where’s Hannah, you asshole?”
An explosion sounds around us, and I duck, the light fixture falling from the ceiling. I struggle to focus, my eyes starting to burn.
“Oh my god. LEVI!” Kipley yells. The anguish etched in his voice causes my next swing to pause midair. “LEVI!!! Fuck, fuck, fuck, HANNAH!”
A sickening feeling washes over me, and I stare down at him, terrified of what I see. “What the fuck have you done?” The words feel surreal leaving my mouth. The flames become brighter, roaring around us, the heat of the beast threatening to burn my clothes to my skin.
Braydon doesn’t answer me. When his lips curl into a sickening smile, I wrap my hands around his neck and squeeze, slamming his head against the old laminate floor. “What have you done!” I scream, the smoke burning my throat.
His eyes are as dark as the smoke. “I made sure you can’t have her either.”
My heart stops. My conscious submerges in fear. I’m frozen, staring down at him, needing him to take those words back.
Two hands grab at my shoulders and thrust me back. “We have to get out of here. The house is seconds away from collapsing.”
“Not before he tells me where Hannah—”
“She’s here. I found her,” he chokes out, his voice dripping with grief. My heart sinks to the bottom of my soul as Braydon becomes an afterthought. I release him, climbing to my feet, needing to get to Hannah.
“Fuck,” Kip howls, trying to fight through the maze of flames. Orange and red engulf the entire floor, and I struggle to see in front of me. Another loud crack, and Kip dives to the side to avoid being singed to death by falling debris.
“You okay?” I call out, coughing with each tattered breath I take. A large enflamed beam separates us, the magnitude of the heat and smoke forcing me to cover my eyes, as I cough.
“I can’t get to her! You have to get to her!” he cries out, pointing to the left. I follow his finger, searching to the location where he’s pointing. The smoke is so thick, I can’t—
“No…”
Paralyzing fear strikes me, almost taking me to my knees. Laying lifeless on the floor, mere inches from the burning couch, is Hannah. My muscles cramp. I can’t move, consumed by the fear of her…not being alive. Kip’s booming voice breaks me from my stupor. I throw myself through the blaze, falling at her still body. There’s no disguising my panic when I see blood. Without worry I may be hurting her, I lift her in my arms, and rear back around. There’s no clear way to the door, but if I don’t make a run for it, we both die. “Hold on, baby. I’m getting you out of here.” I tuck her limp body to my chest and run. I can barely see through the thick smoke as Kip throws himself through the door, making it outside. A fiery ball of fire explodes behind me, igniting a blast of sparks to shoot at my back. My teeth grind, ignoring the searing pain. A series of hissing gushes around me. I hurl myself through the flame coated doorway, and another blast of heat hits me as I dive toward the lawn. My body cradles Hannah as I hit the ground. Sirens break through the hissing sound. The front window explodes, and we take cover, Kipley hovering over us as another barrier for his sister.
Time speeds up, and Kipley rips his sister from my arms. “Hannah…” He lays her on the ground, calling her name, but she doesn’t respond. “Hannah, please wake up. Fuck, she’s bleeding. Where is she bleeding from?” Kipley is on the verge of breaking. His hands are frantic, searching her body for wounds. “Hannah, please! Hannah!” His voice cracks, splintering my heart in two. She can’t be. I refuse to pull my eyes away from her, waiting for any flicker, twitch, any kind of sign.
Sirens become louder, signaling they’re close. The lights of a firetruck bounce off the roaring flames of Clara Hill’s home. I lean forward and press my ear against her mouth to see if she’s breathing.
“Here. She’s bleeding here,” Kip cries. I watch in horror as he pulls her torn, bloody shirt up to reveal a nasty slash in her side. “Jesus, no.” He shakes his head uncontrollably, “Hannah, wake up! Hannah!”
I rip my charred shirt off, pressing it against her open wound. She groans.
“She’s alive. Oh, thank God!” I hold my hand to her side while Kip crawls up, putting his face close to hers. “Hannah, can you hear me?” She doesn’t respond. Come on, give us something. “Hannah, we’re here. Help is here, you’re going to be okay.” Kipley’s voice is shaking, evident doubt in his tone. Without the glare from the flames, her skin is pale. I grip her hand in mine, so she knows I’m here. Her skin is clammy.
Her lips open just a sliver, and she releases another groan. “Hey, don’t try to talk. We’re here.” Kip tries to comfort her, while her eyes work to open. God, I want to see those beautiful almond eyes.
I squeeze her hand and lean forward, pressing my lips close to her ear. “Fight, Hannah. Fight for me.” I need her to make it through this. It’s faint, but it’s there. She squeezes my hand back, her lips fighting to talk. “Cl—Cl—” She coughs, unable to finish.
We’re suddenly surrounded, two men in medical jumpsuits kneeling next to us. “I’m going to need you to move aside so we can work on her.” They wait, but neither of us move. “Sir, she needs medical help—”
Hannah’s body starts to seize. Gargling sounds erupt up her throat, and her eyes flicker. “Oh my god, what’s happening!”
“She’s going into cardiac arrest—move!”
Levi
Beep. Beep. Beep.
The sounds of helplessness while a machine works to help the person I love to breathe. Stab wound to her side. Severe blood loss. Smoke inhalation to her lungs. Concussion.
Swoosh. Swoosh. Swoosh.
The sounds of powerlessness as her air ventilator goes up and down. All I want to do is fix her, but I can’t.
Her heart stopped twice. Twice. I didn’t know this
until someone came to my own hospital room to inform me.
Beep. Beep. Beep.
I tear my swollen eyes away from her to watch the monitor, her heart rate slowing. I hold my breath until it picks back up and levels out. The alarm has gone off twice now, sending nurses and doctors in a panic. Twice. This is the first time I’ve been alone with her since they brought her in three days ago.
The first two I spent in my own hospital bed being treated for severe burns to my back and smoke inhalation. When I was finally able to walk, it took half the floor nurses to hold me down before they gave up and allowed me to walk down to Hannah’s room, with no shame my ass was hanging out of the small-as-shit gown the entire time.
We’re now on day three of waiting for her to wake up. I’ve graduated into a pair of scrubs instead of the lousy gown, and they brought in a more comfortable chair for me since I refuse to leave her side. Morning turns to afternoon by the time Stacey finally convinces Kip to go back to his own room, since he was also admitted for smoke inhalation, and take a shower, and Jim finally convinces Cheryl to get something to eat in the cafeteria.
Cheryl fainted twice while begging her daughter to come to. Twice. She couldn’t bear to see her little girl with tubes down her throat, so beaten and pale. This was not the Hannah we all knew and loved.
“Jesus,” I choke out, covering my face with my hands. No matter how many times I wash them, I still see her blood. I want to stay strong for her, for when she wakes up, but every time I tell myself to pull it together, I crumble into more pieces than before. My chest heaves up and down as my torment eats away at me. “I’m so sorry,” I cry, needing to confess so much to her. “I’m sorry for being such a coward and not believing you. Not trusting you. For not telling you I love you. I need you to wake up so I can tell you that. Please come back to me.” I feel trapped in my own nightmare, a life that may not involve her. She may not wake up. A pain ignites inside my chest, and a sob escapes my throat. A knock on the door has me sucking in my breath and wiping at my face. “Yeah?” I cock my head to see Detective Shaw standing in the doorway. “What do you want?” I snap, turning back to Hannah.
He doesn’t ask to be invited in before entering the room and standing on the other side of her. “Surprised to see you out of bed. Read your hospital chart—”
“I said, what do you want?”
He nods, getting to the point of his visit. “I thought you should know forensics came back. The body was indeed Clara Hill.”
I shake my head, the pit in my stomach weighing heavily at what I already concluded. Hannah’s strangled words when she was lying there. She was trying to tell us Clara was still in the house. “Do you know if she was…”
“Still alive? Unfortunately, we can’t answer that. Unless Miss Matthews can give us more details, we won’t ever know.”
“And her son?” I ask, guilt washing over me. Her poor son.
“He was notified a couple hours ago. The facility is doing their best to keep him calm. Now that we know, we can proceed with future action—”
I shove my chair out from under me, and it skids halfway across the room. “You can proceed now? Why didn’t you proceed when you first got wind of Miller Industries? Huh?” I stop, my lungs straining, and I cough. “Pointless lives lost because you didn’t do your job! And where is Benjamin Miller now? His son? Have you found his son?”
There’s no hiding the slip in composure, guilt riding in his tone. “I understand you’re upset—”
“I’m more than goddamn upset! I’m fucking furious! I’m a wreck! My girlfriend is lying in a hospital bed fighting for her life and I feel useless to her.” I cover my mouth, another round of barking coughs.
“And I’m sorry it’s come to this. Sometimes cases aren’t followed through as they should be. I won’t make an excuse for why Benjamin Miller has gotten away with what he did, but I will promise to make sure he doesn’t ever again and goes away for a long time.”
My heart pounds. In and out, like an emotional volcano is about to erupt in my chest. “And Connor?”
Goddammit.
“I’m sorry. Still nothing. We have our best men out searching for him. His picture is splattered all over the news and he’s on a no-fly list. He can’t get too far—”
“Hey, Poindexter, why don’t you beat it? Go do your job or something, yeah?” We both turn to see Chase walking in holding two coffees. Shock, yet relief washes over me at a familiar face. Detective Shaw nods and heads to the door. “I’ll keep you posted,” he says before walking out.
“Hey, you didn’t have to come all—”
“And support two of my closest friends? Not a chance. I’m here for you, man.” He pats me on the back, and I wince. “Oh shit, sorry.” He hands me a coffee, and I readjust, sitting as close to Hannah’s bed as possible in hopes she can sense me by her. Chase follows suit, taking up the extra seat on her other side. “How’s she doin’?” he asks. Lost is his sarcastic tone, in its place genuine concern.
“Better, but not as good as the doctors had hoped. They expected her to wake up by now, but you know, trauma can cause people to stay under until they’re mentally healed and able to come back to us,” I say, the same words I continue to repeat and repeat and repeat. She’s healing. She’ll come back to us when she’s ready.
Silence takes over for some time before the beeping sound becomes too much and Chase breaks the quiet. “You okay, man?”
I take some time to digest that question. When I lift my eyes to meet his, my answer is honest. “No. I’m not.”
Fear is like a disease. It shows no mercy and spreads like a wildfire to the mind, body, heart. It creates a dark mass, eradicating any hope to flee from this nightmare. Weariness crashes into me like a tidal wave, and my shoulders slump.
“So, little Hannah Matthews, huh?” The question breaks my thoughts. He’s trying to change the subject. Find an open window to lighten the mood. A crest of a smile breaches my face thinking about all the happiness she’s brought into my life. “Yeah, dick. And she’s not little anymore.”
“Yeah, got that at Kip’s wedding. Are her boobs real, because she sure filled out that—ouch!” he yelps when I toss a cup at him. “I’m kidding. I just wanted to make you smile. Shit, you look like hell. Should you even be out of bed?” I’m fine. I’m right where I need to be. With her. “Dude, when she wakes up, she’s going to be greatly disappointed. Have you showered? Eaten? If I was a chick, I’d definitely be a little pissed to wake up to the sore eyes of you.”
I stare at him, realizing he’s right. I haven’t done any of the above. I’ve convinced everyone else to eat, shower, take some time, but I refuse to take my own advice. Because if she wakes up and I’m not here…
“I mean, I find you quite attractive in those hospital scrubs, but for real, go find a water fountain and bathe in it or some shit. Even better, have your special nurse give you a sponge bath. I’ll sit here with her.”
“And if she wakes up and sees you? I believe she’d rather see my piece of shit self.” We both laugh, and Chase shrugs, agreeing.
“Either way, take care of yourself. Walk down the hallway and back. Move your legs. You’re not helping her by not taking care of yourself. She’s gonna need you when—and I do say when—she wakes up.”
I can’t fight the tears at his words. I’m sure I look like a pussy, but I can’t stop them. “Thanks, brother.”
“None needed. Like you said. Brothers.” I get up, not saying anything else, and he gives me a reassuring nod. I face the door, urging my feet to walk out of the room. I’m two steps out when I almost turn around, but Chase is right. I need to be strong for Hannah when she wakes up.
I allow my legs to drift down the quiet hallway. The lights are dimmed low, so it must be night. I’ve lost track of time since I’ve been here. My head is so jumbled, I beg my psyche to dislodge from the negative thoughts. Trying to search deep within my memory for something positive, a strange memory tucked away deep in my mind,
becomes visible, as if it were just yesterday.
We stumble in the house, no doubt reeking like booze. “Dude, hurry while my mom’s distracted.” Kip sprints down the hallway into his room, but the raised voices have me slowing, then stopping. I bust out laughing at the argument, almost getting us caught. We’re well over an hour late and smell like two kids who haven’t been at the movies all night.
“Dude, let’s go!” Kip grabs at my shirt and drags me back into his room. “Shit, that was close. Good thing Pops is out of town. You think Stacey’s really gonna call me?”
“Huh?” I ask, leaning against his doorframe as Hannah stomps down the hallway. I take it she didn’t win that argument.
“Stacey, do you think she’ll really call? I don’t know, man. I really dig her.”
I cross my arms over my chest as Hannah lifts her head, still mumbling to herself, grabbing her attention. Her face lights up like it’s the fourth of July and she smiles. “Hey, Levi.”
“Hannah,” I return.
“Watcha guys doing? Can I hang?”
I chuckle at her wanna-be-an-old-kid lingo. I swear she eavesdrops on Kip’s phone calls and takes notes. I heard her tell her dad to slow his roll the other day.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Hannah. Shouldn’t you be getting ready for bed? It’s kinda late for you.”
Her smile fades, along with the sparkle in her eyes. They still shine, but shit, for a whole other reason. Her hands fly to her hips, her chin stiff and lifting to the sky. “For your information, Levi, I’m almost a woman.”
That gets a snort out of me. “Aren’t you, like, eight?”
If she sticks her chin up any higher, she’s going to fall backwards. “Yes, I am. Thanks for noticing. And soon, I will go through the proper channels of becoming a woman, which means I am perfectly capable of staying up late.”
This kid. I shake my head, my crooked smile partially Boons Farm related. “Oh yeah? Proper channels? What exactly is that? You mean like puberty?”
Chicks, Man Page 23