Only Ever Yours

I try Isaac over and over again, but he doesn’t answer. It just goes straight to his voicemail every single time.

“He said he had something to take care of,” I tell Noah. “Do you know where he was going?”

He glances up from his phone. “According to the security company, a fire alarm in Chester Creek Commons went off. False alarm. He must’ve gone to check it out.”

“Then where the hell is he?” I hiss, my eyes going to the firefighters who are still working on containing and putting out the fire.

When the police arrive, they disappear behind the parking garage and a few minutes later, several all black vehicles arrive. I still can’t get ahold of Isaac and nobody will tell us anything. Noah holds me while I cry, scared and assuming the worst, while praying Isaac is far away and his phone is just dead. But something in me, the deep, dark part of me, has a horrible feeling.

“Are you the person who called nine-one-one?” a police officer asks when he walks over what feels like hours later.

“I am. I’m Camilla Hutchinson.” His eyes quickly go wide, revealing he recognizes my name, but I ignore it, not giving a shit about what he thinks of me or my family’s name. “And this is Noah Reynolds. I live in the building and he works with my fiancé, Isaac Petrosian, here.”

The officer nods. “We’re still trying to piece together what happened, but the explosion was so strong it cracked the infrastructure, and the heat seeped inside. We don’t know what damage has been done, but you won’t be able to go inside until it’s checked out.”

“What happened?” I ask, my voice shaky.

“From what forensics is gathering, a bomb went off. It was most likely attached to a vehicle, and because it was in an enclosed area, after it went off, the heat of the car on fire caused an additional explosion. I’m not sure how many vehicles were down there, but they’re all totaled. Do you know anyone who would want to blow up your parking garage?”

His words cause a shiver to race up my spine, and before he can stop me, I’m running to the parking garage. It’s no longer on fire, but it’s stifling hot and, because of the debris, it’s hard to breathe.

“Ma’am, this is a crime scene,” one of the men says when he spots me standing on the edge of the garage.

“How many vehicles are in there?” I ask, doing the math in my head. Isaac has a truck, two sports cars, and then there’s my SUV. Noah wasn’t visiting, so his vehicle is parked down the street, and the employees would’ve already left for the day, since it’s well after five o’clock. That’s…

“Four total,” he says, and my heart stutters in my chest.

No. No. No. This can’t be right. “Count again!” I bark out, stomping on the bits and pieces of glass and metal. Luckily, I had the foresight to put on flip-flops before I left the condo.

“Ma’am, you can’t be in here. This is a crime scene and the area is under investigation.”

“I don’t care!” I yell, sprinting toward the wreckage. The area is black and covered in ash and smells like gasoline mixed with fire. The vehicles are all melted and damaged and you can barely make out which is which, but they’re in their assigned spots.

“Which vehicle was blown up?” I ask, even though I already know. The truck. It’s the least recognizable. Nothing more than white-covered rubbish.

When he points to the area, I drop to my knees, but before I hit the ground, someone catches me. Tears of emotion fill my lids and my head spins. I hear people talking, but I can’t make out what they’re saying. My heart is pounding behind my ribcage and my body feels as though it’s having an out of world experience. My senses are all blurred. I can’t hear, I can’t see. I’m numb. It’s hard to breathe.

I gasp for air, trying to fill my lungs with oxygen. But it’s not working. I think someone is murmuring something into my ear, but my head and ears are now ringing. My hand wraps around my throat as I gasp for air. But it’s too late. I’m too far gone.

And the world around me goes black.

I pry my eyes open and my temples throb. I glance around, and for a second, I forget what’s happened. I’m confused, unsure where I am. Unlike the view of the marina from my bedroom window, there are trees and shrubbery. I take in the beige walls instead of the gray and the cream sheets instead of our silver and white ones. When I roll over, I find Noah sitting in a chair looking at me, and it all comes back to me. The explosion. Isaac not answering his phone. The police saying it’s a crime scene.