Page 11 of Loving Trent (Love in the Bootheel #5)

Seven

TRENT

Cape Girardeau is ten hours away from me.

Honestly, I could have made it in one day, but I needed the time to wrap my head around the fact that I would be back in my hometown for the first time in twelve years.

So, I split the drive into two. The probability of seeing anyone is very low.

I’m not planning on spending any time in town, but the fact that Eve, Josiah, Betty, and Shawn are there scares me a little.

By the time I start the second half of my drive, closer to evening.

I can’t keep the memory of the first time I saw Shawn away.

Cape Girardeau isn’t a huge city that some may find in places like New York or California.

Still, it’s big enough that there are multiple Elementary schools.

I’ve gone to the same private Christian Elementary school for the past six years, but tomorrow is my first day at our only public middle and high school, which shares one building.

Mom and Dad argued over the summer about whether they should send me to public school or homeschool me.

They didn’t ask me my opinion, but I did not want to be homeschooled. Luckily, Mom won, so I got my wish.

The following day comes quickly, and the butterflies in my stomach go wild as I walk up the sidewalk toward the colossal building.

It’s so different from my old school. Bigger.

Louder. But I’m excited because there are no longer religion classes, I don’t have to wear a uniform, and there are more students.

Maybe now I will have a chance to make friends.

I never really fit in with the boys from my old school.

We didn’t have anything in common, but I’m hopeful that with more than ten kids in my class, someone will want to be friends with someone like me.

All of my attention is on the brick building and the tickle of anticipation building inside me, so I don’t notice anything going on around me.

Especially the older boy riding his skateboard straight toward me.

It’s not until I’m lying on the ground, eyes burning, nose tingling as pain races down my arm, that I’m even aware I was in danger.

“Oh, crap. I’m so sorry. I didn’t see you there.” The voice washing over me has the hair on my arms standing up, the butterflies erupting again, and a warm, fuzzy feeling settling low in my gut.

Looking up, I’m engulfed by the most intense green eyes I’ve ever seen.

The color is what I imagine a lush forest floor is bathed in.

The boy has short brown hair, darker than mine, but it looks soft in the morning light.

For some strange reason, my fingers tingle to see if it is as soft as it seems. When a smile spreads on his face, my heart stutters to a stop, and that warm, fuzzy feeling turns hot, and something happens in my private area.

A twitch, maybe. I don’t know. It’s all new and scares the shit out of me. What the fuck is happening to me?

The boy squats down, bringing his face closer to me. When he speaks, I swear I hear angels singing. “Are you okay?” The fresh mint smell of his breath ghosts over my face and leaves fire in its wake. My tongue sneaks over my bottom lip as if I’m hoping to taste him.

I nod because I’ve suddenly forgotten how to speak. Why can’t I find my voice? “I’m Shawn,” he says, holding a hand out toward me.

My hand shakes as I take his outstretched hand. As soon as my palm touches his, fire lights up my skin, and my heart starts beating again. It beats so loud that it’s all I hear, and my chest aches like my heart is trying to beat through it. “T… Trent,” I stutter, and my face flames again.

Shawn pulls me up but doesn’t let me go. “How’s your arm, man? I’m really sorry if I hurt you.” He pulls my right arm into his hands, and all I can do is stare at him as he raises my shirt sleeve. “Shit, you have scratches on it. Come on, I’ll take you to the nurse so she can check that out.”

I let him pull me into the school, through the halls, and into the nurse’s office.

The whole way, electric tingling shoots through my arm, emanating from the place he is touching me.

Shawn sits with me as she checks my shoulder out and bandages the minor scrapes.

I try really hard not to look at him because I don’t know why my body is reacting like it is.

After the nurse finishes, she tells me to get to class, and Shawn once again leads me out of the room.

“T… thank you.”

Shawn lays his hand on my shoulder and squeezes. “No problem. I’m the one who hurt you. Well, I’m this way,” he says, pointing over his shoulder toward the hallway that says high school. “See you around, Trent.”

Standing here frozen, my eyes refuse to leave Shawn's back as he walks away. The urge to call him back sits heavily in my chest, but the words die on my tongue. Over the next three months, I spent every morning and afternoon after school looking for him. My eyes never fail to find him walking out of the high school building with two boys by his side. Every single time I see him, I want to rush over and talk to him, take him away from those boys, and demand that he spends time with me. Thanks to some sneaky research on the internet and a health class, I’ve come to understand what he does to my body.

I'm finally attracted to someone, but he’s a guy, and that isn’t something that I can tell anyone.

The welcome to Cape Girardeau sign brings me out of the memory with my heart pounding behind my chest. Over the years, I never forgot about Shawn or the fact that he awakened my sexuality.

God, I spent so much of my time those three months before Josiah found my journal obsessing over him.

In all reality, Shawn is why I was sent to Camp Arrow.

My whole journal was filled with dreams, feelings, and plans that my mind conjured up because of him.

A fifteen-year-old boy who didn’t even pay me a single bit of attention after that day.

But I don’t blame him. How can I? No, Josiah and Eve are the only ones that I blame for what happened to me.

When I was at camp, I tried really hard to push thoughts of Shawn away because I didn’t want the torment that I was going through to taint the memory of him.

He was a good memory that didn’t need to be tainted by their darkness.

There have been plenty of guys that have caught my attention over the years, but I’ve never acted on the lust that filled my veins.

Every time I tried to work up the courage, Shawn’s pimple-covered face, mouth filled with metal braces, already deep voice, and the way one look from him would send my body into overdrive, would flit through my mind, killing that lust.

It’s stupid to still be caught up on someone I haven’t seen in twelve years, but it is what it is.

Shaking my head to rid it of thoughts of someone I will never have, I go over my plan a third time.

Stop at the first gas station I see. Fill up the tank.

Take a piss and then get out of town. Due to my restless night, I slept in this morning, so now the stars are filling the sky as I pull into my hometown.

I’m just about to start pumping gas when the scent of burning wood fills the air.

I look over my shoulder to the right and see that a building across the road is on fire, and people are rushing out of the front door.

My feet hit the pavement as I race toward them.

“Are you okay?” I yell at the young male standing outside with sweat running down his red face.

The small family starts coughing. The father is holding a little girl who is sobbing loudly while the mother comforts a boy at her side. “Yeah. Do you have a phone? I forgot ours inside,” the father says between coughs.

I pull out my cell, unlock it, and pass it to the guy. More people are starting to crowd around us. “Is there anyone else inside?” I ask, panic lacing my words.

“I don’t know. There is a single mom who lives below us, but we didn’t stop to check on her,” the mom answers as the father is frantically speaking into my phone.

I take off, pushing through the front doors into a small lobby. Looking around at the décor would just be a waste of time; therefore, my legs propel me to the door with the small gold number one on it. Sweat trickles down my face and back as my fists pound against the door.

“Is anyone home?” Speaking sets off a round of coughing thanks to the thick smoke.

My eyes burn, and my lungs begin to protest, but I continue to bang.

When no one answers, I step back and aim a kick at the doorknob.

After a couple of strong kicks, the door jamb busts, and I push the door out of my way.

I rush through the small apartment but find it empty.

Turning around, I race back through the lobby and spill out onto the sidewalk, sucking in lungfuls of fresh air.

“Oh my God. Up there,” someone screams. The crowd grew in size while I was inside.

I turn to look at what multiple people are pointing at, and what I see turns my hot body ice cold. On the third floor, someone is banging against the window, their mouth agape as if they are screaming.

“That’s our landlord, Shawn,” the mother yells.

With that one name bouncing around in my head, my body heats back up, my heart leaps into my throat, and adrenaline like I’ve never felt before floods me.

I again take off toward the fire, not caring about my safety.

I reach the side of the building just as the air is filled with sirens, but they still sound so far away.

Jumping up, my hands grab a hold of the fire escape ladder and pull.

The sound of the metal against metal grates on my nerves, but I don’t stop to flinch.

I start climbing and keep climbing up to the third floor. Until I’m standing outside the window.

Through the window, all I can make out is thick black smoke. Even if whoever inside wasn’t named Shawn I would still be standing here risking my life for theirs. Something deep inside me is screaming loudly and rattling the bars of a cage in a desperate attempt to be set free.

Please, God, don’t let it be him. Don’t let it be my Shawn.

Ripping off my jacket, I throw it to the ground, fist the back of my t-shirt, and pull it over my head.

I wrap my hand in the shirt and punch through the glass.

The heat from the glass doesn’t hurt as I keep punching until it’s all gone.

I have to duck when smoke and flames race through the window in search of oxygen.

The flame’s heat rushes over my head, but as soon as it dies down, I’m back on my feet.

Whatever is inside of me demands that I push through all the fear and exhaustion trying to stop me.

Not caring about the broken jagged pieces of glass still in the window frame, I crawl through it, landing on my hands and knees.

My fingers brush against the warm, overheated, sweaty skin of the man trapped inside.

He is on the floor, passed out, all the while flames are eating up his walls and the floor.

Bending down, I turn his head, and my heart fucking stops dead.

The monster I didn’t know resided in me, roars to life, threatening to destroy me whole.

It’s my Shawn, and there is blood rushing down his face.

Fuck. No, he can’t die in this fucking fire.

Not on my watch. Bending down, I slip my left arm under his chest and, with all my strength, haul him into my arms.

Without stopping to think, I kiss his lips lightly and whisper, “I’m here, Shawn. I promise nothing will happen to you.”

The sound of footsteps on the metal stairwell is barely heard over the sound of the fire, but I pay them no attention as I slowly haul Shawn toward the window.

My lungs are burning worse than before, my eyes are watering, and a huge cough rips my throat open.

But I don’t stop moving. Just a couple more inches, and I can get him out.

The fire is getting closer to us, and I’ll be damned if we both die here.

Someone reaches through the window, grabs the front of Shawn's shirt, and pulls his body away from mine. A growl grows in my chest at the sight of someone else's hands on him, but I push it down. However, once I’m through the window, I push the firefighter out of the way and wrap my arms around Shawn’s body.

“Don’t fucking touch him,” I say with a cough. I turn away from them and continue carrying my Shawn down.

Once safely on the ground, EMTs rush us, trying to do their jobs, but the beast inside that has claimed Shawn Foster almost rips their head off. Only when a small female steps forward and whispers, we need to make sure he’s alive, does the beast allow them to take Shawn away.