Page 93 of The Front Runner
But even deeper down than that, I know it’s therightdecision. It’s theonlydecision.
Every stall door is open as I rush down the hall, checking for where she might be located. Panic rises in me every time I check a stall and don’t find her. It chokes me. The smoke I can handle. Losing her when I’ve only just found her, is what I won’t survive. It’s what’s closing my throat and making my eyes sting.
Flames, spurred on by the hay stall at the back, cut through the smoke. The heat is borderline overwhelming, and the thought I might have to turn back flits across my mind before I shake it away.
And then I see it, a dark lump on the floor.Mira.
I rush forward, shucking my jacket off and covering her head with it. The long tips of her hair are singed from the close flames. I pat them out over the top of my jacket before scooping up her limp form.
“Stefan…” I can barely hear her. “I got them out for you.”
Her words cut me off at the knees.I did this. I told her something so cruel that she walked into a burning building to show me otherwise.
“Mira. I love you.” But she doesn’t hear me. Her body goes heavy in my arms.
Sagging. Lifeless.
She doesn’t respond. But I chant my confession as I turn and run for the door.
I love you. I love you. I love you.
All those months ago, in almost this exact spot, I carried a limp, lifeless foal out of this barn. And she sat in the rain with me digging a hole for that foal, even though she didn’t need to help. I don’t know why she did it. I don’t know how she knew I needed her steady, quiet company that morning. But I fully intend to spend the rest of my life repaying her for it. For sticking it out. For not shunning me, or hating me, or thinking the worst of me when everyone else did.
Forprotectingme.
And now it’s my turn to protect her.
I rush out of the barn, staying low and holding her as tight as possible. Her limbs swing as I hug her to my chest and pray to whatever power is listening to please not let this be it for us. I tell her over and over again, hoping she can hear me through it all.
I love you. I love you. I love you.
I stumble out into the fresh air, gasping to get it into my lungs. “Help!” I cough, moving as far away from the burning building as possible. “She needs help!”
Bodies surge in around us as I drop to my knees and place her on the gravel road as carefully as I can. “Mira.” I smooth her burnt hair away from her beautiful face, smudges of ash trailing in the wake of my fingers. “Mira.” I shake her gently and am met with the heavy feel of a body that offers no resistance. The firefighters descend around us, but I can’t take my eyes off of her. “I love you.”
What if the last thing I ever said to her was harsh? What if the last thing I ever did was make her cry?
“Sir, we need you to move.” Hands grip at me, pulling me away from her when all I want is to cover her body with mine. To give her anything she needs. Lungs. Skin. Life. She can have it all.
I love you. I love you. I love you.
“Stefan, they need space.” Hank’s soothing voice filters in through the chaos as his hand squeezes at the back of my neck to urge me away from her. “Move back so they can do their jobs.”
What if I never see her again? I don’t think I’ll ever forgive myself.
Nausea surges in me and for the second time in a week, I get up and run toward the lake where I can empty my stomach in peace. Paramedics surge past me in the opposite direction carrying duffel bags and oxygen. The surrounding noises are loud, but all I can hear is the whoosh of blood in my ears, the quickened thump of my heart beating through my body as I lean up against a tree and give myself over to the sickness.
What if she dies saving everything that she thinks is dear to me without knowingsheiseverythingto me?
I love you. I love you. I love you.
The guilt eats at me, tearing at my flesh. I feel like I’m being ripped apart piece by piece. I gasp for air and stare out over the lake, wishing my mom were here when a warm hand slides over my shoulder.
Hank says nothing, but I know it’s him. We have a connection and barely know each other. Deep down, I know he’s my dad. Sure, a DNA test will prove it, but I already know it. I know it in my bones.
His firm grip on my shoulder soothes me as I try to recapture control of my breathing.
“She’s breathing. She’s got this.”
