Page 39

I curl my body around Ethan more forcefully as several more pops of fire ring out.

“Ethan,” I whisper. “Ethan…are you okay?”

Before I can hear his reply, everything goes dark.

9

ETHAN

It all happens so fast. One second I’m about to get in my car and go home, the next I hear Dante yelling my name, and then he’s pushing me to the ground so hard that my shoulders creak when they hit the concrete. His hands and arms shield my head and neck, and his broad shoulders and chest protect my body.

I have no idea what’s happening, even as I hear the single loudest noise I’ve ever heard in my entire life.

It takes me a moment or two to realize that something has exploded.

It’s not like in the movies.

The sound is so piercing that after the first couple seconds I can’t hear it as the pressure in my ears builds. I can feel the heat, though, mostly on the sides of my body, and see the bright light of fire and sparks through my eyelids as I turn my head. The ground underneath me is vibrating, or maybe that’s just my body shaking.

Dante speaks above me.

I can hardly understand him. He sounds muffled, like everything else.

I feel weirdly calm, even though I’m trembling.

No, not calm…numb.

Finally, I process what Dante has said. He’s asking if I’m okay, but something is wrong. His body has gone limp on top of mine.

I open my eyes and look at him.

He’s unconscious.

Everything suddenly comes into focus. I can hear the fire roaring in my ears and the sound of footsteps running over.

“Dante, fuck, motherfucker!” a voice very similar to Dante’s shouts over the noise.

My fingers curl into Dante’s shirt and jacket, and I try to slowly push him off me. Before I can do that, the yelling man comes into view and grabs him, rolling him onto his back.

I gasp as my burning car comes into view. There are pieces of it scattered everywhere, but mostly the driver’s seat and side door are fucked up. That’s right where I would have been…if it weren’t for Dante.

I don’t understand how this has happened or why, but it doesn’t matter right now. Dante is injured; he must be.

I sit up quickly, feeling no pain at all as numbness settles over my whole body.

“Is he breathing?” I ask, moving to feel his chest and neck.

“God, fuck, why does he have to get into this shit?” the man asks as he leans down as well.

Sirens blare through the sound of the fire.

“He’s breathing,” I say, and feel his pulse. “Pulse is high.”

“No fucking kidding.”

Dante suddenly jolts awake with a gasp.

“Hold on,” I try to say, but he sits up quickly, his eyes wide.