Page 3

I stumble, landing on my palms. My skin sticks to the wood and sizzles. With a roar, I pull them off and grab hold of my mother, hauling her to her feet. She’s limp and heavy, unable to stand on her own. A sob of frustration rips through me, but I push through, scooping her into my arms.

I can’t think or speak or fucking see.

All I know and feel is fire and pain.

We have to escape.

More debris crashes down around us. I trip over parts of it, sending both me and Mom slamming to the floor. Before I can pick her back up, the rest of the ceiling starts dropping hellfire on us. All I can manage is to cover her body with mine, hoping it’ll be enough to keep her alive until the fire department arrives. Mom doesn’t make a sound while I cough and cough and cough.

Fiery heat engulfs us from all sides and I’m helpless to do anything.

Blackness blankets over me and frees me from hell.

“I’ve got you, son,” a deep voice rumbles. “We’re going to get you out of here.”

The pain slams into me and I start coughing again. Wait, is someone carrying me? It’s not until the cool air outside allows me to take a smoke-free breath that clarity seizes my mind.

“Mom!” I croak out, my voice barely a whisper. “Mom!”

“We’ve got the other one,” another man yells. “Let’s go!”

Several men rush past us, toward the fire, while we run away. I strain in the man’s hold, whimpering against the pain, searching for my mother.

“Where is she?” I rasp. “Where’s my mom?”

I’m once again ignored as I’m passed off to a couple of EMTs. Overwhelming pain blots out the commotion around me, once more sending me into peaceful darkness.

I wake to a faint beeping sound. I’m no longer hurting like I was. In fact, I feel as though I’m floating on a cloud. Worry niggles at me, desperately trying to remind me of something.

What is it?

Slowly, I crack open my eyes, needing to get off this cloud as soon as possible. Everything around me is bright and sterile.

I’m in a bed. A hospital bed.

I drag my stare over my arms, which are wrapped heavily in gauze. Memories sting the back of my mind like tiny pinpricks.

Fire.

Smoke.

Mom.

Voices rumble from nearby, earning my attention. I follow the sound to where Dad and Uncle Theo stand, speaking lowly to one another. Hugo and Callum must be with Mom. A relieved sound escapes me. I remember the firefighters getting her out of the fire too.

Dad pauses and jerks his head my way. With tears in his eyes, he rushes over to me. I watch as he bats at his cheeks to swipe them away before the sadness in his expression permeates the fog I’m in.

“Jude, Son, I’m sorry.”

I’m barely able to shake my head. Whatever he’s about to say, I don’t want to hear it. I can’t. I can’t handle what he’s about to say.

He sniffles and closes his eyes. Then, with a ragged huff, he says, “Your mom didn’t make it. I’m so fucking sorry.”

Mom didn’t make it.

Mom didn’t make it.

Staring down at my bandaged hands with tears steadily streaming down my cheeks, I shudder as his words fully sink in.