Page 28 of Cross Check Daddies
“Thanks. Enjoy the run.”
I start stretching, watching her retreat. The sway of her hips is enough to short-circuit a lesser man. I look away.
Focus, Ace.
Then it happens.
A sharp, blaring noise splits through the quiet. The kind of sound that gets under your skin. I flinch automatically, ripping my earbuds out. I’ve lived through enough drills to know this one by heart.
Fire alarm.
I glance back at Brooke, expecting her to be annoyed. Instead, her face drains of color.
“What the hell was that?” she shouts.
“Fire drill,” I say, already half-smiling. But that smile disappears when she bolts.
She hands me the leash, spins on her heel, and runs straight back into the building. “My son!”
“What?” I shout. “Hey! Where are you?—”
But she’s gone. Buddy barks once and barrels after her like he’s done this before. I swear and take off after both of them.
“Brooke!”
The elevator’s frozen. Lights blinking red. I push through the stairwell door and start climbing. She’s ahead of me, moving fast despite wearing slippers, yelling her son’s name.
“Brooke! Slow down. Let me?—”
“I need to get Jackson! He’s upstairs!” Her voice is ragged.
“Then let me help!”
We hit her floor. She fumbles with her key, hands shaking, and I push past her gently. She gets the door open just as smoke curls down the hallway. Not heavy. Probably just from the drill system. But it’s enough to make the situation real. Adrenaline hits me like a freight train.
The kid’s standing there in a NASA T-shirt, eyes wide. He’s clutching a handheld gaming console and looks like he just woke up.
“I’ve got him,” I say, crouching.
“I—” Brooke tries to speak, but Buddy’s losing his mind behind her.
“Grab the dog,” I order. “Come on, I’ve got Jackson.”
She nods, scooping the leash and shouting at the dog to move. I lift the kid easily and head for the stairs, turning my body to shield him from the worst of the heat pooling near the upper floors. Not real fire. Not yet. But drills are meant to simulate panic. And panic is setting in all over the building.
“Hold tight, bud,” I tell him. “We’re taking a shortcut.”
Jackson wraps his arms around my neck and doesn’t say a word.
Brooke is on my heels, her eyes darting, her breath coming fast. We take the stairs down four flights. I adjust Jackson’s weight with one arm and hold the door open with my foot. Buddy snorts beside me like he’s leading the damn charge.
Outside, the sunlight hits us again like a slap. Sirens echo nearby. Fire trucks, maybe. Or more noise for the simulation.Either way, I don’t let go of Jackson until Brooke’s next to me, hands on her knees, gasping for air.
“Are you okay?” I ask, touching her shoulder.
She nods without speaking, eyes fixed on her son.
The kid leans into his mom once we’re out in the fresh air, his small hands gripping the edge of her sweatshirt. He doesn’t look scared anymore, just curious, eyes tracking every flashing light and loud noise. This is definitely the kid I saw yesterday at the burger shack.
