Page 98 of Sweet Caroline
“Oh, fuck, thank God!” His deep voice against my temple is full of pain and relief.
I can’t breathe, and I’m not sure if it’s from smoke inhalation or the way he’s crushing me so tightly in his arms. Maybe both.
He pulls back to look me up and down. “Are you hurt?”
“No, I’m okay,” I say; my scuffed knees and palms are inconsequential. “But I lost Ada. She got out… she’s…” I scan around us, relief flooding me when I spot her with Jesse about fifty yards away. “She’s okay. It’s okay.”
Sirens wail in the distance and I twist in Miles’ arms to face the inferno behind me. Flames lick up from the roof and into the smoke-filled sky, and every window on the lower floor reveals roiling orange flames inside.
Minutes. It only took minutes.
My stomach twists with worry at the thought that someonemight have gotten trapped inside. I want to help but I have no idea how.
My arm is pulled yet again, and I turn to find that, this time, it’s Miles.
His stricken face hollows my stomach. “Come on. Please. I need to get you out of here.”
“But I think we’re?—”
“Please,” he says again, a terrified urgency in his voice. “Just come with me. Caroline,fuck!Please!”
“Okay,” I say quickly. “Okay.”
He drags me through the crowd, weaving us between shocked onlookers and groups of people rushing past with buckets and hoses. Miles ducks us through a gap in the fencing and into the parking area, away from the festival-goers, the noise, the mayhem.
“Miles!” I say, but he keeps tugging me along. “Miles!”
It’s only when I dig my heels in that he finally gives in and stops in his tracks, gasping for air. He bends at the waist with his forearms propped on his knees, still clutching my hand. “I just…” He can barely speak. “I just need you to?—”
“It’s okay,” I reassure him, finally wrenching free from his grasp so I can hold his face in my palms. “I’m okay. We’re okay.”
He straightens, crushing me against him once again, cupping the back of my neck in his trembling hand. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
Why is he apologizing?
“It’s alright,” I say carefully, getting the distinct feeling that this is about something bigger than the fire. Bigger than my safety. “You’re okay.”
Still, his shoulders heave and his heart hammers under the palm I have pressed to his chest.
“Hey, hey, look at me. Miles. Look at me.”
His face twists in anguish when he draws back to meet mygaze and then he’s suddenly pushing me away, lurching from my arms and toward the space between two parked cars—where he vomits onto the ground.
The faint flicker of fire truck lights reaches us across the dark night and, when Miles finally emerges, wiping his mouth, his face is strangely ashen in the red glow.
“We should sit down,” I say. Now I’m the one dragging him along. I find a bale of hay next to the fence and figure it’ll be better than the muddy ground. “Sit down with me, okay?”
He slumps down hard and I sink onto the hay bale beside him, tugging him against me.
I squeeze his shoulder, his hand—anywhere I can reach to ground him.
“I’m sorry,” he grits out. “You shouldn’t be?—”
“It’s gonna be alright,” I whisper, kissing his temple. “I’ve got you. We’re both safe now.”
“C’mere.” He draws me into him. “Please. Closer. I need you.”
Climbing onto his lap, I straddle him, and he pulls me flush with his chest. I kiss his cheeks and his forehead, then bury my face in his neck. “I’m here.”
