Page 15 of Royce

Even before the bell above the door rings, I know my brow is furrowed. While I never mind an unexpected visit from Jessa, especially with Danny; it’s the fact that Royce is with her that has me wondering what is going on.

I know Shade’s hearing is today, but it seems a little early for it to have wrapped up.

“Molly.” Royce smiles at me in greeting as he pushes the door open, allowing Jessa to proceed him, as her hands are full with the baby carrier.

I open my mouth to greet my friend when the world explodes.

Literally.

I’m certain I lost a few minutes, but when my surroundings start to come into focus again, my head is throbbing and there’s a ringing in my ears that’s gradually being drowned out by a baby crying.

A baby. Danny, I think as the fog in my brain slowly starts to clear.

Danny, Jessa, and Royce! I look back at my ovens, trying to comprehend what could have exploded, but seeing that they’re intact encourages me to gradually start to move. From the pain in my tailbone, I know exactly where I landed.

Rolling over onto my knees, I slowly move toward the end of the counter. Past where I am is a sea of glass, and it takes me another moment to pull myself up. From my second step on, I’m crunching the glass that’s all over the front of my bakery.

Today, the shattered window doesn’t matter, I need to get to Danny.

My heart rate goes into overdrive as I see Jessa trying to squirm out from under Royce. Dear God, I don’t even think he’s conscious yet, and though it feels like my feet are weighted down, I keep telling myself that Danny is the priority right now.

“Fuck.” Royce’s groan is the first word that I’m capable of making out after the blast and it brings with it a complete sense of calm. All I can think is that he’s alive.

I reach down to feel along Danny’s body for any injuries. And debate whether or not to pick him up until he starts waving his arms and legs in my direction. Maybe my thinking isn’t medically sound, but all I see in front of me is a baby that needs comforting. Releasing his straps, I carefully lift him, cradling his precious body against my chest.

Christ, that carrier was worth its weight in gold. “I think he’s alright, Jessa,” I say, just as a man in a Northern Grizzlies cut steps through in the blown-out window.

“Shit, your car blew up, Jessa,” he announces, looking between us. “Everyone’s coming this way. I couldn’t reach Shade, but the sheriff will hear about it.”

“You would have still been in it if you’d gone straight to your aunt’s,” Royce moans out, now face down on the floor since Jessa was able to get out from under him. “How’s the baby?”

“He seems fine, just scared,” I answer, watching him trying to roll to his side. “Royce, stop trying to get up. Jessa, are you alright?”

Jessa’s shaking as she stands up, and I take a step toward her before she holds her hand up to stop me.

“I’m covered in glass,” she says, as the other man helps her stay steady on her feet. She looks at him in confusion. “Who are you?”

“I’m Tanker. We haven’t met. You sure you’re ok?”

Suddenly, all I can hear are sirens as a fire truck and an ambulance pull up outside.

“Royce?” Jessa looks down at him as she reaches a finger out to rub her son’s back, obviously needing to touch him in this moment.

“Everything hurts,” he groans again as the paramedics rush in.

“Jessa, head back there.” I motion her to the kitchen. “Rinse your hair off in the sink, because I know you’re dying to get this one in your arms.”

“He’s going to be alright, isn’t he, Molly?” Royce asks for the third time, and I realize he’s probably in shock. The medics get him stabilized and on a gurney, so I shift, allowing him to see my face before they cart him away.

“You saved them. Granted my window’s gone again, but I’ll let it slide this time.”

He starts to laugh, but that quickly turns into another groan. “Fuck, that hurts.”

I instantly feel guilty at letting my sarcasm get the best of me, so I reach a hand over to touch him before remembering the state he’s in. The only place that I don’t see a cut is between his jaw and his ear, so I draw my finger along the uninjured spot and smile. “I’ll fix you a proper breakfast next week, alright?”

As soon as they wheel him out, Flint is entering with his eyes fixed on Jessa.

“Is the boy alright?” he asks me, barely sparing us a glance.

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