Pros & Cons (15 page)

She’s here. I’m here. And we’re alive.

I hold her tighter and whisper her name as I drift off once again.

I have no idea how long I’m unconscious, but I hear sirens. Smoke hangs in the air, so thick that I gag whenever I try to breathe, but somehow, I’ve avoided the flames. I try to climb to my feet, but a rush of dizziness crashes over me, making me stagger into what is left of a wall. I see another window there, but it’s barred just like all the others. I wipe the grime out of my eyes and try to focus on the street. Thanks to the emergency vehicles’ flashing lights, I can see our vehicle parked near the corner.

And it’s empty.

I wipe my face and struggle through the debris until I find a door that I pray leads to another stairwell. Or an exit. The smoke makes it increasingly harder to breathe, but I stagger down the stairs, only to stop in my tracks when I see them huddled in a corner on the landing.

“No . . .”

My best friend is there—blackened and bleeding. And in his arms is his fiancée.

Their hands are clasped with fingers entwined, her engagement ring visible despite the smoke.

I drop to my knees to check their pulses, but I know.

I know.

But I check anyway, and then my heart shatters.

My heart is thundering in my chest and my eyes snap open. This time, I don’t wake her, and I’m glad. She needs to sleep, and honestly, I don’t want her to see me this way. I need to be strong for her, and I’m anything but strong tonight.

But I will be.

I stare at her beautiful face. The morning sun tries to blink through the curtains, and it gives me just enough light to make out the shape of her mouth. With the very tip of my finger, I softly trace the outline of her lips. They part, and she sighs sweetly. Despite our horrific night, she looks peaceful and uninjured—neither of which I’d dared to dream. I’ve never been a religious man, but I’d never prayed harder than I did last night. For a few agonizing hours, I believed she was dead, too. But here she is—safe and beautiful and sleeping in my arms.

Content with that knowledge, I pull her against me and close my eyes.

“I’m so sorry.” My voice is a painful whisper. “I’m so, so sorry.”

I hear voices in the hall outside the stairwell door, and it’s the only reason I leave them behind. I hurriedly stumble down the flight of stairs. Through the haze and smoke, I watch from below as the firemen lift Coop and Abby’s bodies into their arms.

With my friends rescued, I turn and race down the stairs.

I’m not afraid of getting caught. I’m afraid that, if they see me, they won’t let me search for Jenna. They’ll insist I get out of the building, and I can’t. If Abby ran inside, I’m sure Jenna tried to follow her.

Jenna . . .

My entire body shakes just thinking she’s lost somewhere in the smoke and flames. I can’t even consider the possibility that I’ve lost her, too.

I search and search, and I’m both relieved and disheartened when I don’t find her.

But I do find the flames.

Dizzy and choking, I struggle back to the sanctuary of the stairwell. In my daze, I see an emergency exit. I give it a push and stagger out into the night. I find myself in an alley, and off in the distance, I see Jenna’s vehicle. With what energy I have left, I run straight to it. I climb into the front seat, slam the door, and bury my head against the steering wheel. Tears stream down my face as I do something I haven’t done since I was a kid.

I pray.

And then I drive.

When she opens the door, I nearly drop to my knees. Relief—beautiful, bone-crushing relief, courses through me. Her cheeks are streaked with tears and her eyes are wide with sorrow, but in this moment, I’ve never seen anything more beautiful in my entire life. The fact that she’s here . . . standing, breathing, and beautiful . . . makes me a believer in the power of prayer.

I wake up again but keep my eyes closed. Jenna’s warm against my side, and I bury my face in her hair. The scent of tangerine is a welcome fragrance compared to the stifling smoke from my dreams. I let her sweet scent drive the nightmares away, and for a few minutes, it works. For just a few moments, I forget that we were set up by a man who has no idea his days on this earth are numbered. I forget we’ve lost our best friends. I forget that I could have lost her.

“Ethan?”

I press a kiss to the top of her hair. “I’m right here.”

Jenna’s body relaxes against me, and she buries her nose against my chest.

The sun’s a little brighter now, but I don’t look at the clock. Time ceases to exist in the shelter of this room. The outside world is a shitstorm we’ll deal with later. For now, nothing matters except that she’s here.

Then she starts to cry.

The sound stirs a feeling in my chest that threatens to suffocate me more than last night’s smoke ever could. I hold her close and let her cry.

Last night, she was my strength. Today, I will be hers.

Jenna and I lay in bed for the rest of the day. We sleep some. We cry some more. We talk a little about nothing important. Then we talk a lot about Abby and Coop. Our peace is interrupted only a few times by the sound of a ringing cell phone somewhere in the room. It’s easy to ignore.

“Do you think it’s possible . . . that they’re alive?” Her voice is laced with hope.

“No, sweetheart.”

“But, maybe—”

“I saw them, Jenna.”

She quickly sits up in bed. “What do you mean?”

“I saw them. I found them.”

Her eyes fill with tears.

“Were they . . .”

She doesn’t finish the question. She doesn’t have to.

“Yes.”

“They were together? Dean said they were found together.”

I nod. She wipes away her tears and slides back down, settling in my arms once again.

“Who’s Dean?”

“He’s one of the paramedics from last night. He tried to get me to go to the hospital, but I refused.”

I narrow my eyes and immediately start inspecting her body for wounds.

“You told me you weren’t hurt.”

“I’m not. I just hit my head on the asphalt. I was unconscious for a few minutes.”

I’m livid.

“You didn’t tell me you hit your head! What if you have a concussion?”

“Stop it, I’m fine.”

“Jenna, maybe we should—”

“No, we shouldn’t. I’m not going to complain about a little bump on the head when you clawed your way out of a burning building and our two best friends are dead. I am fine!”

She starts to cry again, putting an end to any talk about going to the hospital.

It’s late in the afternoon when I decide she needs food. I don’t ask. I just know she needs to eat. I find my second cell phone in one of the duffel bags and call Gabriel. The relief in his voice makes me feel like shit for not contacting him sooner, and I apologize for keeping him out of the loop. He offers to bring us food, and within minutes, he arrives with pizza. We try to eat, and I fill Gabe in on what’s happened since last night. My usually stoic pilot gets visibly emotional when I tell him how I found Coop and Abby in the stairwell. Jenna quietly tries to eat, but I can tell it’s a struggle. She finally gives up, drops her slice of pizza, and sprints toward the bathroom. She slams the door, but that doesn’t disguise the gagging we hear coming from behind it. My feet twitch to go to her, but Gabe shakes his head, subtly reminding me she needs her privacy. After a while she reappears, but instead of going back to her food, she searches the room until she finds her cell.

“I have a message from Dean,” she says.

I stop chewing. The smell’s making me nauseous anyway.

“You gave him your number?”

“Who’s Dean?” Gabe asks.

“One of the paramedics,” Jenna explains. “I gave him my number because it was the only way he’d let me leave without going to the hospital. He’s worried.”

“So am I,” I tell her.

She sends a quick text message and then surprises me by walking over to me and climbing into my lap. Not that we haven’t been wrapped around each other like vines since late last night. I’m just shocked she’d let Gabe see how close we’ve become.

I gingerly run my finger against her scalp, and she winces.

“Sorry, baby,” I whisper, pressing a kiss to her temple. I look over at Gabe. “Maybe we should find a doctor.”

“I told you I’m fine. Your hand may need a stitch, though.”

“My hand?”

She reaches for my left hand and turns it over. On my palm is a gash about two inches in length.

I shrug. “It doesn’t hurt.”

Jenna searches my eyes before asking Gabe to get the first aid kit from her bag. I’ve never seen him move so fast, and I shoot him a disapproving glare when he hands her the box.

“It could get infected, Ethan,” she says.

I watch her face as she applies ointment to the cut before placing a bandage over it. I can feel Gabe’s eyes on us, but he’s easy to ignore when I have the most beautiful girl in the world on my lap, placing soft kisses against my bandaged palm.