Page 65 of My Soul for Sale

“No? Then just go. I won’t say a word and I can call someone myself,” I try.

“Nope.”

“Then what are we doing, Trina? I need medical attention.” I can feel the pressure building behind my eyes as I try not to cry.

“You wanted this place so bad. You wanted to take everything from me. Now I’m going to take everything from you.”

I panic, worried she has somehow gotten her hands on or hurt Rip or Atlas. We’ve only been back in each other’s orbit for a short time and it’s been fucking bumpy, but I’m happy. Happier than I’ve ever been and I really want to see where this goes.

Trina cackles. “The panic in your eyes is cute. You’re going to go down with the ship, captain.”

What the fuck is she talking about? I don’t get time to ask before that goddamn Jameson bottle smashes against my head once more.

This time when I blink open my eyes, I’m sweating like a whore in church and it smells like gasoline.

What the fuck is that crackling noise?

I push myself up slowly, trying to make sense of my surroundings, only to find the bar engulfed in flames.

No, this can't be happening. She didn't... She couldn't have…

Panic grips me as I struggle to stand, my body protesting. Flames with a vicious intensity block the front exit. I turn to head toward the back, but the sight that greets me there is equally horrifying—a blazing inferno engulfs the backroom, the heat unbearable even from a distance.

"Help!" I scream, the sound lost amidst the crackling of flames.

It's 5:30. Rip should be here any minute, since he’s always early, but time is a luxury I don't have.

Remembering my phone, I drop to my knees and crawl as best as I can behind the bar. The heat is brutal, threatening to suffocate me with each breath. I reach for my phone with trembling hands, my fingers fumbling as I dial 911.

"911, what's your emergency?" the dispatcher's voice buzzes through the line.

"I'm trapped inside a burning building," I manage to gasp out, my voice strained with panic. "I don't have long.”"

“Where are you?” he asks.

“The Iced Rose Bar. 3838 Pleasant Street. Please hurry! The fire blocked the front and back,” I sob.

“I have fire and rescue on the way, ma’am. Can you stay on the line until they arrive?”

If this is how it's going to end, I need to say goodbye. I need to tell Atlas and Rip how much they mean to me and how grateful I am that they came back into my life.

“No. Sorry. I need to call my family. But this wasn’t an accident. Trina Bullardo assaulted me with a bottle of Jameson and when I woke up, the place was on fire. She did this,” I tell dispatch before hanging up.

I dial Rip's number first, so he can help Atlas deal with this, as tears stream down my face. "Hey, Sloane." His voice comes through, filled with concern. "I'm only like five minutes away. Something is on fire over by you. There's black smoke, and a firetruck with two squads just flew past me. Can you see anything from the front of the bar?"

"It's me, Rip," I manage to choke out, the lump in my throat threatening to suffocate me. "The bar is on fire, and I’m inside."

I hear the engine of Rip's truck roar to life, and a small glimmer of false hope flickers within me. "Sloane, baby, listen to me." His voice comes through urgently. "You need to get out of there. I'm on my way."

"I can't," I rasp, desperation in my voice. "The fire is blocking the exits. Rip, listen to me. I love you. You're a giant asshole, but I love you. I thought it was in a family way, since we met under different circumstances, but now I know that was just the path we needed to take to get here. The way I feel now is nothing like a girl and her stepdad. You are one-half of my heart. Atlas isn't going to be okay, Rip. You need to help him through this."

"Don't talk like that, Sloane. You're going to be okay!" he shouts.

I cough as smoke fills my lungs, making it hard to breathe.

"I don't think I am, but that's okay. I just want you to be okay and make sure Atlas is happy. But don't let him get with Jenna. I don't care how struck with grief he is. Do you hear me, Ripley? I will come back and haunt your ass!"

I hit Atlas' contact next, praying he'll answer. To my relief, he picks up almost immediately. "Hey, baby. I was just thinking about you. I miss you,” he says, his voice filled with happiness, and I can picture his smile.

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