Starless Nights (Hale Brothers Series Book 2) (31 page)

“Beau,” she whispers out through silent sobs. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know . . .”

“Listen, do you need me to come and get you or can you get into a cab and come to my place?”

“You want me to come over?”

Why does she sound so surprised by this? “Yes.”

“Are you sure?”

“Leila, please don’t cry. I’m sorry I left you at the studio, but I needed some time on my own. Come over here and let’s talk this through . . . okay?”

She sniffs. “Okay.”

Getting off the bed, I pick up yesterday’s jeans from the floor and put them on, brush my teeth, and change into a fresh shirt. I forgo shaving, brushing my hair, and the loft is a mess, but I just don’t care enough to clean it or myself up.

Fifteen minutes later, there’s a quiet knock on the door and I get up off the couch to walk over to open it up. Standing in the hallway is not the Leila that I left at the studio. That Leila was fired up and full of energy. But this Leila standing in front of me is clearly a broken girl. Her face is blotchy, her eyes are red and swollen, she looks like she hasn’t slept in days, and her hair is wild and falling all around her face and shoulders. She’s wringing her hands in front of her and her posture looks completely defeated. No matter what has happened between us, I hate seeing her like this.

Gently, I reach out and grab onto her elbow to pull her inside. Closing the door, the two of us stand there and stare at each other. Her eyes fill with tears and one by one they fall out and slide down her face.

“Please don’t cry,” I say looking down at her.

Her chin quivers, she squeezes her eyes closed, covers her face with her hands, and just breaks. Her crying like this hurts me so much that I can’t help but to reach out and wrap my arms around her. She folds herself into me and buries her face in my chest.

“Beau . . . I didn’t know.”

“Didn’t know what?”

“About the fire.” I go completely still. She can’t possibly be talking about the fire that we were in.

“What fire?” She lets go of me and takes a step backward.

“Beau, please tell me what happened the night of the fire.”

“You know what happened. You were there.”

“Why does everyone keep saying that to me? No, I don’t know. No one ever told me. I didn’t even know you were there! This entire time I thought you never even showed up that night.”

I gasp and take a step back from her. I don’t know what to say, because that means that everything that I thought about her for the last six years has been all wrong too.

I feel like I have just been sucker punched.

“Who did you think pulled you out of the fire?”

“A firefighter.”

I’m shocked at this and confused. I want to ask her so many questions, but my brain has stopped functioning. I’m staring at her and she’s watching my reaction to the bomb she just dropped.

“Your mom never mentioned anything?” I ask her.

“No. She too thought I knew.”

Walking away from her I head into the living room and she follows.

“Leila . . . I . . . how did you just figure all this out?” She reaches down into her bag that she had dropped on the floor and pulls out my journal. I instantly reach over and snatch it out of her hand.

“How much of this did you read?” I’m furious and embarrassed at the same time. These are my darkest thoughts and hours. They are for me and no one else.

“Does it matter?”

“Yes! It matters to me. This is mine and it’s private.”

I’m feeling so many emotions right now, I don’t know which one to focus on. I’m angry at her for the things that she said yesterday and for hitting me. I’m angry that she read my journal, and I’m angry for the loss of six years with her. I’m sad because she hit me. I’m sad because if she read my journal then it most likely hurt her too, and I’m sad because I was so heartbroken for so long and most possibly all of this could have been prevented. Six years gone, just like that . . . poof!

“Beau, please tell me what happened that night and what happened to you.”

Looking into her beautiful blue eyes, I’m filled with remorse about how wrong I have been about her. I begin to tell her about the worst night of my life. One I’ve really never spoken of and one that I would just like to forget.

Somewhere in the back of my sleep filled mind I hear the tiny beeping of the alarm on my watch. Grabbing it out from under my pillow, I turn it off and look to see that it’s almost midnight. My heart feels achy in my chest because I know that tonight is going to be important for so many reasons. It’s the last night that I’m going to see her. I need to tell her I love her and I have to kiss her again at least one more time before she leaves.

She leaves.

That ache in my chest tightens. I slip out of bed, slide on a pair of flip flops, and tip-toe to my window.

Before I went to bed, I left the window up, loosened the screen, and had Drew prop the ladder outside. With my arm in this cast and hurting something fierce, I didn’t leave my room all day. He offered to help me out, instead of me trying to sneak down the hall to his room. I didn’t want to risk them hearing me as I slip out.

Drew’s bedroom window opens up to an upper sundeck. A while ago, he offered to switch rooms with me, but my mother said no. I think she knows that I sneak out, but she’ll never tell.

Sticking my head out the window I look around to make sure everything is as it should be. There’s a light smoke smell lingering in the air telling me there’s been another fire.

Slowly, I swing one leg out the window and then the other. I can only hold on with one hand and I’m trying to move the broken arm as little as possible. It still hurts so much. Once I’m down the ladder and onto the back deck, I make my way over to the stairs.

My emotions are torn because I’m so excited to see her, but I also know it will be the last time for a while. It’s been almost two days since we were down on the beach. What am I going to do starting tomorrow?

Sprinting across the open backyard, I slip through the neighbor’s fence and feel free. Every time I get away from our house, a sense of ease takes over. Pushing through the bushes, I run around to the front of the house, and come to a dead stop as I see Matt across the street.

Little Matt is standing directly in front of Leila’s house. How did he get out here? Does he sleepwalk and I didn’t know it? Jogging up next to him, he’s staring at the house with eyes wide open and he’s shaking.

“Matt, what are you doing out here?” He doesn’t respond to me, so I reach out and grab his shoulder. His eyes whip to mine and I see fear pouring off of him. “Tell me what’s wrong with you?”

“Fire,” he whispers.

“I know, I can smell it.” A tear rolls down Matt’s face and he walks into me for a hug. Matt never hugs anybody and the rate of alarm that I already feel from seeing him immediately rises.

“Hey buddy, it’s going to be alright, but you need to tell me what’s going on.” At that moment an explosion rocks from behind me and glass flies straight at us. Matt and I both duck down toward the ground. Looking over at the house, I realize Matt was telling me that Leila’s house is on fire.

How did I not see this when I ran around the corner? Was it contained then? Is the fire primarily in the back? Maybe it’s because the smoke blends in with the night sky.

That’s when it hits me. Oh my god, Leila is in the house.

“Matt, have you seen Leila?” I scream at him.

He shakes his head no.

“Shit.” I push Matt away from me, scramble up off the ground, and run up the steps to the front door.

“Beau!” I can hear the panic in his voice.

“Leila is in that house! You need to find help and call 911!” He just stands there and doesn’t move. I can’t wait any longer.

“Go!” I yell at him one last time.

Grabbing the door knob to push it open, it sears my hand, and I drop it, never getting it turned. I can feel the heat as it is leaking out from the cracks of the door. Rearing back with all the force I can, I kick the door, and it gives flying open. Thick black smoke comes billowing out and I drop to the ground. The elbow of my broken arm hits the door frame and my arm screams out in pain. I’m temporarily paralyzed.

Somewhere in the house there is another explosion. My heart is racing and pounding at the same time. It hurts to the point of feeling like I’m going to have a heart attack.

Crawling on my stomach, keeping as much pressure as I can off of my arm, I make my way to the living room. Our plan was to pitch a tent and pretend that we were camping. Sure enough, there it is.

“Leila!” I scream for her, but there’s nothing in return except for the tears of the house as it creaks and moans at the destructive hands of the fire.

My eyes are burning, the heat is intolerable, but all I can think is—get to Leila. I know she is in here because if she wasn’t, she would’ve come to my window to tell me about the fire.

The orange flames of the monster have found their way into the room, crawled up the walls, and have begun lapping at the ceiling. The smoke is so thick that I can barely see and I can’t stop coughing.

The tent is sitting in the middle of the room. I continue crawling until I reach it, rip open the door, and see Leila lying there.

Relief and fear hit me at the same time.

“Leila!” I grab onto her leg and shake her, trying to wake her up. She doesn’t move.

Oh no, is she dead?

Tears are running down my face. I didn’t even know that I was crying. Maybe it’s because of the smoke, but I doubt it.

Grabbing onto her arm, I drag her out of the tent, and turn us towards the foyer to get out the front door.

All throughout the house, things are cracking, breaking, and exploding. Pieces of the ceiling have started falling, and along with the smoke, ash is flying through the air.

How has she not woken up from the smoke alone? Hasn’t she smelled it? I wish that I could remember what they said in school about smoke inhalation. Is that what’s wrong with her?

On my side, with my weight now fully on the arm with the cast, I use my feet to push us across the floor, dragging her with my free hand.

As we reach the foyer, I look up and see that the fire is completely surrounding the front door. The blaze is so bright I can’t see what’s on the other side. Realizing that there is no way I can drag us through the entrance with it like this, the horror of this moment grows worse.

Bending over, and wrapping my arm around her waist, with every bit of strength and adrenaline that I have, I haul her up against me. She’s bent over at the waist like a ragdoll but with my broken arm it’s all I can do. Suddenly, the foyer seems to stretch—it’s so long—and the distance to the front door gets further away. Knowing that it’s now or never, I lean over her body, and hug her to me as tight as I can. One step at a time, I carry us through the heat and out the door.

For a split second, relief surges through me as I take that first step out onto the front porch and in that next second another explosion blasts from behind us throwing my body forward. I try to regain balance, but I can’t. In slow motion, I see the ground coming straight at us. As we hit, her head bounces and my body slams on top of hers. Something lands on my back and that’s when I feel the pain.

I’m squirming and screaming but whatever it is, it’s holding me down. I’m trapped, sheer terror engulfs me, and as I’m panicking to the point that I can’t breathe. The smoke is violent and ripping into my lungs. My body is trying to cough but it just won’t. I’m suffocating.

My eyes have clouded over and a blur of flames whips around us. Everything is bright and hot. The fire burns so immensely that it kind of feels cold and prickly, like I’m being stuck with pins and needles over and over again. I can feel the skin melting off of my back. This must be what it feels like in hell.

My head drops and hits Leila’s. That’s when I remember that she’s lying underneath me. I’m trying my hardest to do what I can to keep Leila away from the flames. I need to protect her and save her but my body won’t move. I have lost all sense of movement and nothing is happening.

The smoke from the monster has completely wrapped around us and it’s trying to smother us.

My mind has shut off and mental numbness has taken over. Focusing on the one good thing that has ever happened to me, my tears drip off my face and on to hers.

Please don’t let her die. Take me, not her.

I’m not sure how long we lay there, it could have been seconds or minutes, but as I pray for someone to save her, I see a flash before us and she is ripped out from underneath me. She’s gone.

Please save her. I love her.

She is the last thing on my mind and in my heart as I take one final breath before succumbing to the darkness.