Page 147 of First Chance

“Better than burning alive,” Lochlan utters, kissing my head gently as if we weren’t in jeopardy of that only moments ago.

“Are you sure you don’t want to see a medic?” Jackson asks Lochlan as he stands.

“No, I’m fine.”

“Alright, you guys hang tight inside. I need to go check on the crews.”

Once he’s gone and everyone else around us makes themselves scarce, I burrow into Lochlan’s neck, letting the weight of the situation finally hit me.

“Is there any chance Curtis will be okay?”

“He’s a tough son of a bitch. If anyone can pull through, it’s him.”

I nod, silently letting the tears flow free that I’ve been trying to hold back. Lochlan’s arm anchors me closer, eliciting a sharp intake of breath as he moves. “Thank you for staying with me out there and comforting me when I thought I was going to die,” I hiccup through my sobs.

“I told you I wouldn’t let that happen.”

“You told me a lot of things,” I murmur, resting my hand over his heart.

“And, I meant everything I said.” He closes his hand over mine, pulling it up to kiss my fingers.

“But you still want me to leave after my birthday?”

There’s a heavy, stagnant pause as I wait for his answer.

“My feelings towards you don’t change anything.”

I squeeze my eyes shut, but there isn’t a thing that will stop the onslaught of fresh tears from escaping my eyes.

He loves me, but he wants me to leave.

The pain of that is worse than nearly dying.

* **

It’s dawn, I can see the light creeping in the window through my swollen eyelids, and I’m in Lochlan’s bed, but I’m alone.

I check the room with his drawing table but it’s empty and when I go downstairs, I check the lower level and don’t see him. The only thing I see is a pink sticky note stuck to the inside of the front door.

Needed to help the guys. Keep the doors locked until I get back.

As I’m reading the note the door knob jiggles and a squeak escapes me as I jump back, but it’s just him.

“I thought you’d be asleep,” his voice is low and gravely, he’s almost whispering. He looks exhausted, and he’s still covered in the grime from last night. His blood.

He hasn’t been to bed at all.

“I was looking for you.”

He’s standing in front of me, staring at me silently like he’s unsure of what to do.

But he looks so tired and sad, I can’t put any distance between us. Not when I’m one day closer to my birthday.

“Shower first or straight to bed?”

“Shower.”

I grab his wrist because there’s still dried blood in the lines and cracks of his hands, and I’m not sure how badly they might hurt, and tug him slowly up the stairs.

---