Page 75 of All Mine

“You need to go tell her how you feel.”

“Look, when I got here, I wasn’t candid with her or you guys, and that I regret—”

“You also lied to yourself. Now, stop stalling, and go get her.” He opened the door and pushed my shoulder.

Outside, the air smelled of burning wood. Was someone having a bonfire? The air became smoky on the walk to the car. It wasn’t until I was about to pull out onto the main road that the flames shot out the back of the bakery.

Did I see that correctly? A wisp of orange popped around the back corner again. Holy shit.

Was Lauren still inside? The hair on the nape of my neck stood on end. I pulled to the side of the road and dialed 911 as I took off running toward the building.

“From the Hart Bakery is on fire,” I yelled into the phone. “I think Lauren’s still inside.”

“Sir, remain outside the building. The fire department has been dispatched.”

“I’m going to try to get—” Something slammed me to the ground and remained sprawled across my back, pinning me to the ground. All of the air was knocked from my lungs. I struggled to inhale as two punches landed on my back, near my kidneys.

“Going somewhere?” a voice hissed. It was Stephen Wellington.

“We’ve got to get Lauren out,” I said, struggling against the man on my back.

“You thought you could sneak around behind my back and steal this property from me without any consequences.”

“You did this?” I asked, “You set this fire?” I rolled him but couldn’t get out of the vice grip he had me locked into. And I found myself underneath this lunatic again. I attempted to move him and get the upper hand.

“You don’t get to take this from me.” His voice smooth and emotionless, sending a shiver down my spine. “There’s a price to pay for screwing me over.”

“Court,” I yelled, struggling against him. “I thought you’d take me to court, not burn down the building with Lauren inside.”

His laugh sent another chill down my spine. I twisted to one side, throwing his weight enough to scramble out from under him, and took off running toward the building. I made it to the second porch step when he grabbed my ankle, and I tumbled down, pain searing through my shin. Sirens wailed in the distance. They couldn’t get here soon enough.

“I said, you’re not getting in there,” he yelled over the sound of wood beams cracking under fire. With his arms wrapped around my ankles, I punched him in his already broken nose. Stephen screamed and immediately released his grip, grabbing his nose.

I scrambled up the steps and threw my shoulder into the door, the wood splintering, but the door didn’t budge. I stepped back and placed a kick that missed its target beside the doorknob and landed in the lower middle of the door. The blood pounded through my head.

“You bastard,” Stephen bellowed.

I turned in time to grab him by the shoulders as he tackled me, pushing me off my feet and into the door that cracked and rocketed back on its hinges. We fell inside. The air in the foyer was hot and thick. Charcoal black smoke lingered by the ceiling, but no flames.

Adrenaline coursing through me, I threw a groaning Stephen off of me and onto the floor.

“Lauren,” I called, but the smoke and an eerie crackling through the house ate my words. My lungs choked on the smoke, causing me to cough, forcing me to crouch on the way up the stairs. I needed to find Lauren. Where was she? But first, I checked to verify Stephen’s location. He lay in a heap on the foyer floor. Perfect.

The wailing sirens grew louder, and the foyer filled with the flashing lights from the emergency vehicles. I moved to the door of the attic apartment and tested the handle. It was cool to the touch and unlocked.

“Lauren,” I called up the narrow staircase into the silence. No response. Maybe she’d gotten out? Perhaps she’d gone for a walk and wasn’t here at all. What the hell was I doing inside a burning house? I jogged up the steps, just in case she couldn’t answer me. Everything appeared to be in place, except no Lauren.

A louder crack came from the kitchen area and then a crash. Oh, shit, this place was coming down. This was all happening so fast. I returned to the landing and checked the back staircase. A figure lay crumpled near the bottom.

“Oh shit,” I moved toward her. Flames engulfed the kitchen, and she was mere feet from the fire. I ran back to her apartment and scrambled to find the blanket from the bed. Returning to Lauren, I threw it over her and gathered her into my arms. She didn’t respond, and the heat inched closer by the second, with flames licking up the walls around the back door. My only hope was the front of the house hadn’t gone up in flames.

My lungs struggled to inhale as I carried Lauren up the steps and over to the front staircase. A coughing fit overtook me, and I had to stop while I hacked and wheezed. Sweat dripped down my body and off my forehead into my eyes like I’d run a marathon. Before I could continue the rest of the way down the stairs, a figure clad in full fire gear appeared in the doorway. The minute he spotted me, he yelled something outside and, rushing up the steps, took Lauren’s unconscious figure from my arms. I immediately missed her weight and needed her— needed to know that she was okay.

I tried to tell them to get her medical help, but nothing came out but wheezing. Then another firefighter grabbed me, and my vision darkened.

The night sky came into focus. I was lying on my back. A gurney. An oxygen mask was strapped to my face. The fog slowly cleared from my brain, remembering what happened. The fire. Lauren. I sat next to an ambulance out near the road, a safe distance from where fire crews sprayed what remained of the Victorian house with water.

“Lauren,” I called, my voice sounding like I’d smoked a pack a day for fifty years. Pulling the mask from my face, I attempted to sit. Hands pushed me back down. I pulled the clip off of my index finger.

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