Page 45 of Burn

I turn to the nurse and thank her for bringing me up. She nods and looks at McCoy, sternly saying, “Don’t let this one get you excited. And don’t let him get too close. We don’t want your oxygen levels tanking because he smells so bad.”

McCoy laughs and coughs and replies, “Yes, ma’am.”

As the nurse leaves, she’s shaking her head, and we hear her mutter, “Ma’am. In all my days, I’m too young to be ma’am.” She pulls the door closed behind her, and we laugh until we fall into a tense silence. We sit in silence, both with so much to say, but not knowing where to start. A few seconds later, we both say, “I’m sorry,” at the same time, and we laugh again, but I take the opportunity to speak first.

“I’m sorry, kid. You did great in there, but it was my responsibility to ensure your safety. I shouldn’t have left you alone. It’s an oversight that will never happen again.” My throat is raw, so I ask, “You got any water in here, man? I think my throat is still smoldering.”

He points to a pitcher across the room, and I help myself to a glass and refill his. As I turn to put the jug back, he says, “It’s not your fault. I panicked. It was so smoky, and I panicked.” He pauses, and the next words come out slowly and cautiously: “Any word on your girl?”

I face him, forcing a smile, “She’s going to be okay,” he looks so sad, so I try and lighten the mood, “Speaking of, was it you that got that fucking cat out?”

“Isthatwhat that thing was?”

“That seems to be everyone’s feeling on it, but yeah, it’s a cat.”

We’re both laughing. I see McCoy’s eyes flash with realization, and he pushes himself up, points at his gear, and exclaims, “Her phone! She dropped her phone. It’s in the front pocket of my gear.” I reach for the uniform folded on the chair, separate the pants, and hunt through the pockets until I find the device wrapped in the least practical case; it’s a 3-D cartoon grim reaper made of thick rubber. I turn it over and shake my head, chuckling. McCoy must have the same opinion, because he laughs and says, “I know. You should have seen me trying to get it into my pocket. I must’ve already been delirious from the smoke. I can’t believe I didn’t pitch that fucking case.”

The device starts to vibrate. The name ‘Dad’ and a photo of an older, biker-looking man fill the screen. I send the call to voicemail, and the image disappears, replaced by dozens of missed calls and text messages. Without the password, I can only see a log of names. Her dad has called at least a dozen times himself, and I can’t help but feel a pang of jealousy over the fact that she still has her dad. A couple of hours later, I walk out of the hospital, throat and lungs raw, body weighed down by exhaustion and make my way over to collect that freaky little alien from Harrington.

Burn

Adrian

She’s been on the floor, nuzzling that cat for the last twenty minutes. After ten minutes, the tears stopped, and she started to laugh, and the sound hit me like a freight train, knocking the air out of my lungs. Since then, I’ve been paralyzed, mesmerized by the entire scene unfolding on my kitchen floor.

The cat grew annoyed with her attention instantly, but Lex has a vice grip on it. Once in a while, Millie lands a swipe on Lex’s arms, and she cries out, but doesn’t release her hold. “My sweet Millie girl,” she coos, kissing into the creature’s neck, “I love you so much.” Between the giggles, her genuine smile, and those five words, I know I’m completely fucked.

I slowly lower myself and reach out to scratch Millie’s chin, she momentarily stops struggling and nuzzles into me. Lex’s expression shifts when she realizes how close I am. She releases Mildred, pushes herself back a little, and looks at me through thick, wet lashes, eyes narrowed slightly. The soft, elated tone is gone when she says, “You’re not off the hook for yourabsolutelyinsane behavior, but I’ll admit my desire to run far away as fast as possible has receded a little.” She jumps when the phone next to her buzzes across the floor, then groans, “Ugh. My insurance company.”

I stand and hold my hand out, relieved when she eventually takes it. The circles under her eyes are a deep purple, and I’m sure she’s barely staying awake. There’s so much I want from this girl, but at the moment, the need to get her into a proper bed for some solid rest weighs out over everything else, so I offer, “I can give you a tour, then you can sleep.” Admittedly,it comes out more like a command than a request, and she stiffens, her mouth fixing into a straight line.

I don’t wait for her to respond or argue, instead walking to the bathroom, opening the door, and saying, “Bathroom. I got you a toothbrush, some shampoo, and conditioner. Not sure if it’s any good. One of the guys at work told me two-in-one is a hard pass for most girls,” her eyebrows shoot up as I step toward the bedroom. “Bedroom. There’s only one. I guessed at your size and grabbed you some clothes—nothing fancy; socks and undies, sweats, that sort of thing,” now she looks like she might fall over, and I have to work to hide my amusement and satisfaction. “Do you want to shower? Are you hungry?” I ask.

She still looks somewhat dumbfounded, but she shakes her head and quietly says, “No, thank you. Can you please give me some privacy? I need to return some calls.”

The last fucking thing I want to do is give herprivacy,but I nod, jaw clenched, and step out of the bedroom, pulling the door closed behind me. With a wall between us, I release the breath I feel like I’ve been holding since I walked into the hospital. It comes out shaky and ragged, reminding me that I’m barely holding my shit together. I scan the open concept space, and for the first time, I really regret not picking up a kitchen table. The couch is too far to hope to catch some of her conversations, and I need to know she’s not leaving.

I lean against the wall next to the bedroom door. Inside, I can hear her, but the raspiness of her voice makes it tough to understand what she says. Thirty minutes later, she must walk closer to the door because I hear her say, “I’m okay, Dad. I’m staying with a friend.”

Ha. Friend.

I laugh, but it’s bitter, sour in my mouth. I’m not her fucking friend. The handle on the door turns, and I hear her say, “I love you, Dad.” I barely step away from the wall when she opens the door. The silence between us is tense, awkward, fucking uncomfortable. She wraps her arms around her midsection, tucking her phone away, and nervously looks around my place.

Say something you fucking idiot.

“Everything good with your dad?” I ask, without giving it a thought.

Fucking. Idiot.

Her expression is unreadable, but her tone suggests irritation when she says, “Yeah. He’s good. Lane is also good, very concerned that I’m here. Rosie is Rosie. The insurance company said my place won’t be ready for four to six weeks. They’re going to send a list of items they’ll reimburse me for. Let me think, am I leaving any of myprivateconversations out?”

Noted.

I scrub my hand down my jaw, step past her, and drop myself onto the couch. When she finally turns to face me, I say, “Listen. I’m not good with this shit. You can stay here,” as I speak, her bizarre cat hops up onto the couch, and steps into my lap, rubbing her face against my stubble. It smells disgusting, like mushrooms, and I pull my face back, gently pushing it away. “This fucking thing is so needy.”

Lex moves to the couch and scoops the cat into her arms. It wriggles in her arms, meowing in complaints, but she ignores it, shoving it into her sweater. It protests for a few seconds before going still and letting out the loudest purrs I’ve ever heard. Lex pets it through the fabric and says, “She’s cold. This place is freezing, and she’s naked.”

I lean my head into my hands, elbows on my knees, and find myself completely fucking tongue tied. There’s so much that needs to be said, but where do I start?

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