Page 106 of Not A Whisper

He’s ignored as Jason reaches over and unbuckles my seatbelt.

I try to shoo his hands away. "Jason, I’m fine. It’s?—"

"Shut. Up," he growls through clenched teeth. It's then that I notice he’s missing his typical smile. His brows are smashed together, and his face looks ashen beneath his natural warm glow.

Trip simply shakes his head and hops out of the driver'sside. When Jason leans back, I think it's to give me space to get out. I'm wrong. As I turn in my seat, Jason's hand lands in the middle of my chest to hold me in place. His head drops so I can't see his face, but judging by the tension vibrating through his arm, he's upset.

"Why would you run into a burning building?"

What type of question is that? It’s not like I did it for fun. "To help the people trapped inside."

I reach up to try to dislodge his hand from my chest, but he pushes me back against the seat and applies a little more pressure so I can't move. I roll my eyes, too tired to deal with this right now.

"Jason, I need a shower. I'm tired of smelling like smoke."

"You wouldn't smell like smoke if you hadn't been sostupid."

I jerk back in surprise. Jason’s never spoken to me like this before. Typically, he’s the happy-go-lucky psychopath of the three. Even in the past when I’ve seen him upset, when he was furious at Grant for handcuffing me to their bed then leaving me to get assaulted, he wasn’t radiating a dangerous fury. It wraps around him in a dark cloud, thickening like the smoke back at the Baniker shop. I freeze, uncertain in its presence.

Slowly, Jason’s head lifts and our eyes meet.

Thanks to the interior light of the van, I can see his upturned brows, his bracketed mouth, and the tendons straining in his neck. The light catches in his eyes. There, in their depths, is an emotion so complex I can't quite name it, but it glows back at me with so much intensity that I find myself shuddering. Maybe I’m wrong, maybe it’s not fury. It unnerves me, and suddenly I'm the one looking down.

Licking my dry, chapped lips, I mutter, "I couldn't just stand there listening to screams for help, Jason. I’m going to live with those screams for the rest of my life. At least, if I havenightmares now, I can wake up knowing everyone made it out alive.”

I can feel his gaze still pinned to me, but he remains silent, letting my words hang.

"Jay, let her out. She's stinkin' up the van!" Trip calls from the sidewalk.

Jason sighs. It's an unsteady sound, and when his arm drops away from my chest, it's only to grab my good hand and help me out of the van. Slamming the door behind us, he guides me toward the building. Trip throws his arm over my shoulders as we step up onto the sidewalk and, together, the three of us trudge up the stairs. Just as we get to the second floor's landing, Lance steps onto it coming from upstairs. I barely spare him a glance, just ready to call it a day, but he gasps.

"Oh, my god, Bri. What happened?”

“Just a little accident,” I mutter as Jason reaches for the door.

Both of my guys scoff. Trip looks over at Lance who moves closer to us and says, “She ran into my shop that was on fire to help save two people.”

Lance sputters in surprise. My cheeks heat as I avoid his gaze, knowing I must look a mess. I don’t want to talk about this anymore.

“You didwhat? Are you ok?”

Trip answers for me, assuring him I’m alright, while Jason tugs me into our apartment.

He steers me toward the bathroom. We don’t get far. Grant, pale and wide-eyed, leaps up from his seat in the kitchen and hurries over to us. He pulls me away from Jason and crushes me into his chest.

“Do you have absolutely no sense of self-preservation?” he demands into my hair. “God, when Trip called and told us what happened…”

I feel the hard swallow he takes through his body. And there’s no missing the slight tremble running through him as well. Fear. Grant’sscaredright now. My heart twists. I press my face into his chest and wrap my arms around his waist.

“I’m here and in one piece,” I murmur. My voice is muffled against his shirt.

Grant gives me a final squeeze before he lets go and steps backward. His eyes sweep over me. “How’s your hand?”

I don’t realize I’m holding it against my chest until he mentions it. Wincing, I pull it away. “It’ll be fine in a few days.”

“Do you have a primary doctor we should call? You should’ve gone to the hospital. Trip said the burn was pretty bad. Jason, do we have any burn ointment? I can go get?—”

“Grant,” I cut him off as I turn halfway around, intending on heading to the bathroom to shower. I give him a halfhearted smile. “Take a deep breath. It’s Trip that just lost everything. He seems pretty calm about it, but I’m sure he could use a drink. There’s no beer but I do have a bottle of wine in the cabinet. Go pour him a drink or something, alright? Once I’ve taken a shower, we need to talk about my conversation with your dad.”

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