“I’m fine,” I said, interlacing my fingers in his. I looked down, seeing a deep cut across his knuckles. “Is that from the fight or the window?”
“The window,” he answered, frowning at my bloodied nails.
“You saved my life, you know.”
His eyebrows pulled together. “I wasn’t leaving without you.”
“I knew you’d come,” I said, squeezing his fingers between mine.
We held hands until we arrived at the apartment. I couldn’t tell whose blood was whose as I washed the crimson and ash from my skin in the shower. Falling into Travis’s bed, I could still smell the stench of smoke and smoldering skin.
“Here,” he said, handing me a short glass filled with amber liquid. “It’ll help you relax.”
“I’m not tired.”
He held out the glass again. His eyes were exhausted, bloodshot and heavy. “Just try to get some rest, Pidge.”
“I’m almost afraid to close my eyes,” I said, taking the glass and gulping the liquid down.
He took the glass and set it on the nightstand, sitting beside me. We sat in silence, letting the last hours sink in. I shut my eyes tight when the memories of the terrified cries of those trapped in the basement filled my mind. I wasn’t sure how long it would take me to forget, or if I ever would.
Travis’s warm hand on my knee pulled me from my conscious nightmare. “A lot of people died tonight.”
“I know.”
“We won’t find out until tomorrow just how many.”
“Trent and I passed a group of kids on the way out. I wonder if they made it. They looked so scared …”
I felt the tears fill my eyes, but before they touched my cheeks, Travis’s solid arms were surrounding me. Immediately I felt protected, flush against his skin. Feeling so at home in his arms had once terrified me, but in that moment, I was grateful that I could feel so safe after experiencing something so horrific. There was only one reason I could ever feel that way with anyone.
I belonged to him.
It was then that I knew. Without a doubt in my mind, without worry of what others would think, and having no fear of mistakes or consequences, I smiled at the words I would say.
“Travis?” I said against his chest.
“What, baby?” he whispered into my hair.
Our phones rang in unison, and I handed his to him as I answered mine. “Hello?”
“Abby?” America shrieked.
“I’m okay, Mare. We’re all okay.”
“We just heard! It’s all over the news!”
I could hear Travis explaining to Shepley next to me, and I tried my best to reassure America. Fielding dozens of her questions, trying to keep my voice steady while recounting the scariest moments of my life, I relaxed the second Travis covered my hand with his.
It seemed I was telling someone else’s story, sitting in the comfort of Travis’s apartment, a million miles away from the nightmare that could have killed us. America wept when I finished, realizing how close we came to losing our lives.
“I’m going to start packing now. We’ll be home first thing in the morning,” America sniffed.
“Mare, don’t leave early. We’re fine.”
“I have to see you. I have to hug you so I’ll know you’re all right,” she cried.
“We’re fine. You can hug me on Friday.”