Page 94 of The Front Runner
I peek over my shoulder. Relief and regret pummel me with equal strength. “I can’t lose her.”
He gives me a solemn nod. “I know.”
“I just can’t.”
“I know.”
“I love her.”
He sighs. “I know, son. I know.”
I stare back out over the lake, silently begging my mother for some of her strength. Her strength to endure years of what she did to keep us safe. I need that strength to keep Mira safe.
“She’d be proud of you.”
My breathing goes raspy.
“I know I am.”
My eyes sting, and I wish I were man enough to respond to that. It’s all I’ve wanted to hear for years. But my brain fixates on Mira.
I squeeze his hand back. “Thank you.”
“Go be with her. She needs you.”
I don’t like the way he says that. It sounds far too final. It makes me feel like a shmuck for wasting precious time retching when I should have been with her. Even though what she needs is medical attention.
I rush across the grass, watching them load her unconscious body onto a stretcher with an oxygen mask affixed firmly over her delicate face. Billie and Nadia stand huddled close to each other, tears twinkling on their cheeks. The back doors of the ambulance open and Billie moves to get in with Mira.
“No,” I say. “I’m going.”
She glares at me, her eyes bright like the flames as they rake over my face, assessing me and looking like they find me entirely lacking. “I’m not sure what she sees in you. I’m not sure what drives her to defend you, to choose you when she could have anyone she wants—to walk through fire foryou.”Her finger presses into the center of my chest. “But this is your chance to prove yourself to everyone. And if you ever make her cry again, I have a lot of land at my disposal to bury your body.”
I’ve always thought Billie was a bit of a loose cannon, but her love is absolute. I love that Mira has friends like this in her corner. I’ve never had anyone like this in my corner. And her challenge is one I’m happy to accept. I nod, never dropping her eye contact.
“Who’s with her?” one paramedic calls out of the back of the ambulance.
And I don’t miss a beat. “I am!” I grab a handle and pull myself onto the small bench beside Mira’s still form.
Moments later, I take one last look at the wide eyes looking on. Her friend. My sister. My dad.
And then the doors close, and it’s just us.
I grip her hand and drop my head to my chest.
I need it to be usforever.
* * *
The hospital is a blur.I spend the night drifting off in an uncomfortable chair, too anxious to sleep but too exhausted to keep my eyes open. People I know or recognize flit in and out. And when Mira’s parents rush in through the door, I stand.
Her mom envelops me in a full hug before she breaks down in my arms, her tears soaking through my thin dress shirt. “Thank you.”
If she knew the things I said to her daughter, she wouldn’t be thanking me.
“You saved her. Th—thank you.”
She holds on to me like I’m a lifeline. The hug more than just an embrace. Deeper than that. I feel her gratitude wrap around me as she clings to my body, vibrating under my arms. Her dad and grandmother stand behind her looking stoic.
