Page 113 of Summer People
“Sutton!” she shrieks, grasping for me again. “It was only supposed to be Libby, not Sutton. I didn’t know. I just was getting rid of…”
Every muscle locks. Every nerve goes on high alert. Higher than they have been.
What the fuck did she say?
“If there is even a single scratch on either of them, I’ll kill you.” I yank my arm away.
“I would never hurt Sutton!” Her screams are drowned out by the roaring of the fire as I turn the corner to the back of the school. The fire isn’t as bad here, but the brush around the base of the building has already caught.
Fuck.
“Libby! Sutton!” I yell over the blaze. My heart pounds wildly, blood whooshing in my ears. Smoke stings my eyes as sweat starts to trickle down my brow. “Sutton? Libby?” My throat burns with the force.
“Fisher!”
At the sound of my daughter’s voice, I snap my head up. She’s balanced on a window ledge about five feet off the ground at the far corner of the building. Her face is flushed and covered in soot. Behind her peach shirt, the fire glows hot, and smoke billows out around her. All I can see of Libby are her hands. They bracket Sutton’s waist, holding her steady as the fire creeps along the ground below them.
“Jump, Sutton,” Libby says. “You can do it. Jump. It’s not as high as it looks.”
She’s right, but I’ll be damned if I don’t catch them when they jump.
“Fisher!” Sutton calls again.
“Jump,” I order as I dart over. “I’ve got you.”
With a choked sob, she flings herself out the window, over the flames and into my arms. The feel of her warm body hitting mine is the greatest sensation in the world. I give her one quick squeeze, then set her on her feet.
“Okay, sweet pea. I need you to run up the hill and get away from the fire. I’ve got to get Libby out.”
As tears pour down her cheeks, she turns back to Libby, who’s waving at her to go.
The sight of the fire, already burning brighter, surrounding Libby has my heart racing.
“Go, Sutton. Now!”
She startles at the command, but finally, her little legs start moving.
Libby has climbed up onto the ledge now. She glances back, then zeroes in on me. A loud crash sounds behind her, and her eyes go wide.
“Your turn, Princess,” I coax, trying like hell to keep my voice even and my fear at bay. She doesn’t have time to hesitate.
I hold my arms out to her, beckoning her to me. If I could walk through the fire and scoop her up, I would. But that’s not how this works. She needs to trust me. She needs to jump.
“Come on, Princess. I’ve got you.”
Another loud crack has my heart hammering and terror slamming into me.
Without another second of hesitation, she jumps. The force with which her body crashes into mine almost knocks me off my feet. As I teeter and work to keep my balance, I hold her tight to my chest. Her face is covered in soot, her hair damp with sweat. She smells like smoke, and her cough sounds painful.
When she melts against me, her body going limp, relief sinks deep into my bones. She’s alive. She’s here. They’re both okay.
“You saved me again.” She heaves a deep breath, then presses her lips against mine.
I kiss her back, then help her to stand and hold her at arm’s length, inspecting every inch of her. “When you need me, I’ll always come,” I promise.
Between one heartbeat and the next, her body goes taut again, and her voice breaks. “Sutton?”
I scoop her up, then spin and move toward our girl. When the three of us are together, I drop to my knees and pull my daughter into my arms too.
