Page 25 of Breakaway Hearts

I press the button to darken the screen and am about to dump it back into my bag when Reese texts back almost immediately.

REESE: You can’t? What’s going on? Are you alright?

Tears prick my eyes at his immediate concern. Reese has always been there for me, and part of me wonders whether if I told him what happened, he would skip tonight’s game to come pick me up, drive me to a hotel, or just give me a big hug. I wipe my eyes with the back of my hand and take a deep breath, only to end up coughing at the bitter taste of smoke.

ME: Don’t worry about it. I’ll call you after?

My phone starts to buzz in my hands with Reese’s phone call. I decline it, but I know he won’t leave it alone. He knows something is off, even without me saying it outright. If I keep trying to be evasive, he’ll probably get even more worried, so I might as well tell him the specifics.

ME: Don’t freak out, okay?

REESE: Already am freaking out. Spill it. What’s going on?

ME: There was a fire at my apartment building.

Three little bubbles appear on the screen. They disappear, then reappear again. I look up to see the firefighters conferring with the owner of the building, who’s all red in the face and surely arguing that none of this was his fault and that his tenants should be able to move back in immediately. One of the firefighters rolls his eyes.

REESE: I’m sorry, WHAT?

ME: Didn’t hear me the first time?

My joke clearly doesn’t land, and Reese’s next message comes through less than fifteen seconds later.

REESE: Don’t joke about this Callie. Are you okay? Are you hurt? I’ll come pick you up. I’ll notify team management, let them know I have to skip out on this game.

ME: Absolutely not. I’ll be okay, don’t worry.

REESE: …

ME: I’m serious. I’m alright. It was a pretty small fire, and I wasn’t home when it started, so I’m not hurt. I don’t think anybody is hurt, everyone got out in time. But I’ll have too much to take care of to make it to the game tonight.

REESE: The game is the least of your worries. You sure, though? You don’t need me?

I smile down at my phone and type out a quick response.

ME: I’ll always need you. But it’s okay, seriously. I’ll take care of it. Call you later, and be sure to win the game for me!

He sends a heart emoji, which embarrassingly brings a flush of heat to my face. I put my phone back in my bag just as a police officer and firefighter wave to catch the attention of the lingering apartment tenants. We all troop forward, clustering around them so they can tell us what’s going on.

“It’s mostly smoke damage,” the firefighter informs us. As if to emphasize his point, he wipes some black ash off his face. “But the building, given its size and age, is not habitable at the moment.”

A collective groan escapes from the crowd, and the landlord scowls at the front of the building, glaring at us as if this whole mess is our fault.

What an asshole. Maybe I should’ve let Reese call him the other night and rip him a new one.

“Once we’re sure it’s clear, we’ll allow groups in a few at a time, escorted by an official to gather minimal belongings,” the police officer says. She nods toward the police cars pulling up, along with the team of firefighters. “We ask that you don’t linger long in the building and only take the necessities.”

There are more groans from the tenants, but I can barely feel anything at all as the situation slowly starts to sink in. Not anger or fear or annoyance. I’m just… blank. There’s a sort of ringing in my ears, and that numb feeling in my lips has spread throughout my entire body.

What am I gonna do? Fuck, this is awful.

I could stay with my mom, I guess, but she lives so far from my school that I’ll have to get up at four in the morning to make it on time. A hotel could work, but it’ll be expensive, even with my renter’s insurance.

I swallow down the lump in my throat, doing my best to take slow, deep breaths.

My phone rings in my bag, and I fish it out blindly.

“Hello?” I say without glancing at the caller ID.

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