Hell Fires (Age-Gap Romance)

I’m not sure how I climbed down the fire escape with Sophie over my shoulder, but I managed it in a matter of seconds.

I ran single-mindedly to the nearest ambulance.

“Help, please. Oxygen. She’s barely breathing!”

Two EMTs took Sophie from me and slipped her on a gurney while another secured an oxygen mask over her face.

“Any specific ER?” one of them asked me.

“The best one,” I told him. My own lungs were on fire, squeezing and biting with every single breath.

“Mason General,” the EMT said. I nodded in response.

“Brother!” Rafa was at my side. “Is she alive?” he asked me breathlessly.

I couldn’t speak.

I couldn’t think.

“Mason General,” I rasped out.

“Let’s go!” Rafa said. He yanked me out of my stupor and we passed Texas being handcuffed on the way to Rafa’s car. They had him up against a squad car, legs spread, head to the side.

Reese’s body lay on the ground with a single bullet wound to the head. A puddle of blood accumulated underneath him while a detective placed a yellow card by a shell casing near his head.

“Call Malcolm Miller from Valor, Tex. He’ll get you a lawyer,” I shouted to Texas while we jogged to the car. Tex nodded his head and threw me a peace sign with his cuffed hands.

I turned and surveyed the chaos as I opened the car door. Five fire trucks, ten ambulances, a dozen cop cars all of their siren lights lighting up the smoke filled night. Tight Ends was sagging in the center like it was about to collapse. One man dead. A ton of people injured and the love of my life on the brink because I’d fucked up once again.

…

Rafa brought me another cup of coffee and begged me to stop pacing. He wanted me to get checked out in the ER myself since I’d doubled over coughing more than one time since we’d been here. I refused. Fuck my lungs. Fuck my whole shitty life. If Sophie didn’t make it out, then what I knew of existence would become a living hell.

I’d punched my fist through the drywall in the bathroom of the Mason General ER waiting room. My knuckles were bloody, I was covered head to toe in soot. My eyes were so irritated that I knew they were blood red and probably made me look like an addict. But I didn’t give a fuck about any of it. My mind was hyper-focused on one thing and one thing only.

Live, Sophie. Survive. You can do it again.

Live and let me love you.

My brother was a rock and I knew I was lucky to have him there. Without his steady hand and calm mind, I’d have already gotten myself arrested and become even more useless in Sophie’s fight.

“She’s a fighter, Mav. A fucking warrior. She’ll pull through,” Rafa assured me as I sipped the strong coffee and tried not to lose my temper again.

An hour later, we were slouched in two shitty uncomfortable chairs in the waiting room. Rafa had his boots on the small coffee table and head back, eyes closed. I was studying the floor tiles, legs spread, elbows on knees, head in my hands trying to keep it from exploding.

“Mr. Connor?” a white coat with a stethoscope asked. I jumped to my feet and strode over, Rafa followed behind me.

“Mr. Connor, you’re next of kin, I presume?” he asked me.

I nodded. My heart felt like a caged bird fluttering itself right into cardiac arrest.

“Did you get a chance to do a wellness check—”

I put my hand up to stop him.

“For yourself?” he said.

“How is she?’ I growled. My brow was furrowed and I knew I looked cross.

“She’s going to pull through—”

All of the breath I’d been holding in whooshed out of my lungs.

“She lost consciousness and she’s confused. She had some chest pains when she came to, but we did and EKG and there are no abnormalities.”

“Thank fuck,’ I said bringing my hand to my chin as a crutch for my face.

“And they just finished the ultra-sound; the baby’s heartbeat is strong so we think the fetus is stable as well,” he told me as if it were a run of the mill.

“What?” I said incredulously.

“It’s okay, Mav,” Rafa said. He pushed me back from the doctor with the palm of his hand. “Thank you so much. We appreciate all you’ve done, and coming out here to tell us, too. When can he see her?” Rafa took over for me like a pro.

I was blindsided. Dumbfounded. Utterly speechless.

“Soph is pregnant?” I asked him recouping the use of my mouth.

“Twelve weeks,” he said matter-of-factly. “I assumed you knew,” he said.

I stepped backward away from him without turning around. When my legs hit the chair, I fell back in my seat and resumed my position.

Sophie was carrying my child and I’d practically abandoned her.