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Chapter thirty-nine

Trayton

I glare at my phone, checking the time and noticing an hour and a half has passed since I last heard from Daxton. The message I sent ten minutes ago still shows as unread. I slump back on my bed and scroll through the menu of the nearby BBQ joint. I remember Cope telling me he didn’t like the fancy place he and Ashton ate at, that apparently, he was feeling out of place there. Tonight, I just want something low-key for the two of us. I tap Daxton’s name, and the call rings three times before cutting off abruptly—as if it were forwarded. That’s odd. I try again; this time, it goes straight to voicemail. What the hell?

Frustrated, I dial Cope. “Trayton, if you’ve hurt my roomie, there’ll be hell to pay,” he barks through the background noise.

“Cope, can you get somewhere quieter?” I shout, pulling the phone away from my ear.

“Just a minute.” His voice clashes with the noise, so I wait and glance at my phone again, hoping for a message from Daxton, but there’s nothing.

“What’s up?” Cope finally asks hesitantly. “Have you seen Dax?” I ask, the tension palpable.

“What? No, he was with you, right?”

“Yes, but he went back to your dorm to change—I’m meant to be taking him out for dinner.”

Before I can add more, Cope chimes in with a teasing, “Oh, cute.”

I hurry my explanation, the pit in my stomach growing. “He said he’d only be an hour. He’s a half hour late now. I tried calling—three rings and then straight to voicemail.” A sick feeling churns inside me.

“Maybe he just needed some time alone?” Cope suggests, as though that were the obvious answer.

“Cope, he told me he loved me.” Something isn’t right. “I’m heading over to your dorm.” I throw on my sneakers and grab my sweater in a rush.

“Tray,” Cope warns, worry threading through his tone. “He’s been having some trouble lately.”

“What kind of trouble?” I snap as my eyes narrow.

“With his uncle.”

“What? Why am I just hearing about this now?”

I quicken my pace into a run across the campus.

I burst through the front doors and take the stairs two at a time. Cope’s voice crackles on the other end of the phone, mingling with Brayden and Kal’s whispered words. I pound on a dorm door until nothing but oppressive silence meets me. “Cope,” I murmur, barely daring to hope. “He’s not here.”

“Tray.” Brayden’s voice comes over the line, low and hurried.

“Bray, what’s this Marley like?”

“Bad news, Tray—really, really bad.”

The sound of it twists something inside me. Would Daxton have willingly gone with him?

Time seems to stall as I stand rooted on the threshold. “Oh shit.” Instantly, I pull up the tracker app, still listening to Brayden. “I’ve got a tracker on his phone,” I mutter. There’s a sinking feeling in my gut.

A distant shout catches my ear—someone says, “A tracker?” But I’m too focused on the screen. Then I freeze.

Last known location: the trailer park.

Dread floods through me, and my mind races with possibilities—did he choose this, or was he taken against his will? I remember every tremor in his voice over the past few months; after today, after all he admitted, I know he would never willingly go there.

“He’s at the trailer park.”

“We’re coming—stay on campus!” Bray’s command cracks the air. But I cut him off, refusing to be swayed.

“No, meet me at the park,” I insist, already moving.

I fire up the ride-share app, spotting a car just one minute away, and book it immediately. My phone continues to buzz with calls. I know it will be the guys telling me to wait. But what if he’s in danger? I won’t let this chance slip away—I’m not about to lose him again.

The ride arrives in mere moments. I dive in and nearly yell for the driver to floor it, a plea hidden in my frantic words. Ten minutes later, the car screeches to a stop. Relief mingles with anxiety as I thank fate silently—the driver clearly understood the panic in my tone.

We pull into the front of the trailer park, and suddenly, everything spins. A thick veil of smoke wraps around the area, and I brace myself for what awaits me.

The overwhelming smoke chokes the air as the driver slows, and I bolt out, sprinting with every ounce of energy I have toward Daxton’s trailer. My heart is pounding, and my chest tightens with fear as towering black smoke spirals upward, flames greedily devouring the windows. “Daxton!” I shout desperately. Neighbors emerge from their trailers, the distant wail of sirens growing louder. My eyes dart frantically through the gathering crowd, searching for Daxton, but he’s nowhere to be seen. With trembling hands, I pull out my phone and dial his number, only to be met with the dreaded voicemail. “No. No. No.” Not in there, please. I check the app again—still pinpointed at his trailer.

“Trayton,” a voice calls, and I turn with a flicker of hope, only to see the guys rushing toward me, fear etched on their faces. We stand there, helpless, as more flames lash out of the windows, the smoke thickening. A fire engine roars up, and firefighters, police, and paramedics swarm the scene. The sound of shattering glass pierces the air, eliciting screams as a mass of flames bursts from a window.

“Is there anyone in there?” a firefighter shouts to the crowd.

“Why aren’t they going inside?” I shout, my voice cutting through the chaos. My heart pounds with urgency as I push through the crowd, all eyes locked on the trailer engulfed in fierce, bright flames. The fire hoses spray endlessly, yet the water seems to vanish against the raging fire. “Someone needs to go in there, please!” I beg, my words getting lost in the sea of panic. Maybe he just left his phone in there. He may not even be in there. He’s not. He can’t be.

“I need you all to listen,” a firefighter shouts to the crowd, getting everyone to quiet down. “Is there anyone in there?”

“I saw a man and Daxton go in, but only the man came out,” someone yells from behind, and my world tilts, the voices around me fading into a blur. Panic surges like a tidal wave, stealing my breath.

“Tray, breathe,” Bray urges, grasping my face. “They’ll get him out. Please, Tray, breathe for me.” Another window explodes, sending firefighters scrambling as they shout for everyone to back away. All the firefighters stand close to us and not the trailer. They unleash a torrent of water through the window, but the fire seems insatiable, flames rising higher and higher.

I watch helplessly as the flames grow bigger, angrier. He’s in there. He’s burning alive in that fire as I stand here watching.

Daxton’s face swarms my brain, images of him taunting me, and it’s as if our life flashes through my brain. Every moment we’ve had together.

“Whatever you want it to mean.”

“You hurt me the most, Tray.”

“Little did he know, I already knew just how amazing you were.”

“Because I wanted to be kissing you,”

“I loved you first.”

“No one could ever be you. It was always you, deep down.”

“The first guy who broke my heart

“And you were the first boy I ever loved.”

“Then you have been in love, Tray. Love always hurts. Believe me, I know.”

I never knew what heartbreak felt like until this moment.

Even when it doesn’t mean to, love can really hurt. I can’t lose him.

I glance at the firefighters and then at the door that none of them are near. I then shift my focus to Bray and Kal, their faces a mirror of fear and helplessness. “I can’t lose him again when I’ve just got him back,” I say. “I’m sorry,” I whisper, barely audible above the shouting. Determination steels my heart as I barge one firefighter out the way and sprint toward the trailer. Behind me, cries erupt, my name mingling with the sounds of terror and urgency. I yank off my sweater as I run, wrapping it around my hand as a makeshift shield, and pull open the scorching metal door. A wave of heat and sharp smoke bursts out, pushing me back a few steps. But I can’t stop. I press my sweater over my mouth, blocking the choking fumes, and step into the searing heat.

The interior of the trailer is a suffocating blaze, alive with the crackling dance of orange flames and the swirling clouds of thick, black smoke. My eyes sting and immediately water from all the smoke as I peer through the dense haze, desperately searching for him. “Daxton?” I call out, my voice hoarse and muffled by the fabric of my sweater pressed against my mouth. A faint whimper reaches my ears, barely audible over the roaring chaos of the fire. I stumble toward the sound, tripping over furniture scattered across the floor. “Daxton,” I call out again. The acrid smoke is choking me as I push my sweater more firmly against my face. In the dim, flickering light at the back corner of the trailer, I spot a slumped figure—Daxton, tied to a chair, his head rolled forward, unmoving. My heart races, pounding in my chest as I lunge toward him. One side of his jumper is burned, his raw, blistered skin showing. The blistering heat behind me sears at my skin. I move myself behind him, and I frantically work to untie the rope, my fingers clumsy and fumbling with urgency. The heat surrounding us gets hotter, and it feels like I’m burning my lungs with each breath I take in. “I’ve got you,” I rasp, pulling him into my arms. One of my arms erupts in pain, but all I can think about or focus on is getting Daxton out of here alive. Dax coughs violently, his small body trembling as he buries his face against my chest. The smoke thickens, a suffocating curtain that blinds and chokes us. A loud crack echoes above, and I look up just in time to see a section of the ceiling crumbling from the flames that are spreading. Pain explodes through me as it hits mine and Daxton’s arm. I scream out in pain, my body slowly closing down on me as the pain begins to blanket the adrenaline. Daxton goes floppy in my arms, and the spike of adrenaline surges through me again, so I push forward two steps, but my legs falter as someone suddenly blocks the doorway and pulls Daxton from my grip. My legs buckle, and I feel myself being caught as I gasp for air, struggling to draw in more than short, desperate breaths. Agony racks my body, but my eyes frantically scan the chaos for Daxton. “Dax.” Hardly any sound comes out. “Dax.” Tears blur my vision as everything around me grows distant. A mask is thrust over my face, but I claw at it, disoriented and frantic to find him. “Dax.” I hear my name, a frantic cry from somewhere, but everything becomes foggy and indistinct. My chest tightens, constricting with fear and smoke, as someone presses the mask firmly over my face. My surroundings blur into a haze. “Dax,” I murmur through the mask.

“I need—” A man leans over me, his voice calm but urgent.

“I need you to stop talking for me. Just focus on taking deep breaths.”

“Tell him,” I croak amid the chaos.

“You can tell him yourself soon. Keep this mask on for me, Trayton, and continue to take deep breaths.” My body shudders violently, each jolt sending a shockwave of agony through my chest as my lungs scream for mercy.

Why is it so hard to breathe?

I turn my head to the left, and that’s when I see Daxton. His body lies limp, completely still, his eyes closed as if in a deep, unreachable sleep. People huddle over him, their faces a blur of concern and urgency. Why are their hands on his chest?

“Daxtonnnn.” I try to scream his name, but it comes out as a strangled cry, tears cascading down my cheeks. I shove the man’s hand away from the mask, ripping it from my face in desperation, trying to sit up, but the searing pain is unbearable.

“Dax.” I choke on my sob with a mixture of terror and sorrow as more people crowd around and block my view of him.

“Keep that on him,” someone commands, and another man firmly replaces the mask over my face. My world blurs again, the edges of my vision swimming as my heart races wildly. I hear my name faintly being screamed by Brayden, I think, but I don’t care about anyone else right now. It’s only him. It’s only ever been him.

What will I do if he doesn’t make it?

Panic sets in like a vice grip, squeezing my chest as a woman speaks to me, her words lost in the noise, leaving me deaf to anything but the roaring in my ears. It’s become impossible to draw in air, every breath a futile struggle.

I can’t get anything in.

And then the lights begin to fade, darkness creeping in from the edges, slowly closing around me like a blanket. My final thought before the darkness consumes me completely is a haunting whisper: What if I never get to tell Daxton that I love him?