Walking Disaster (Beautiful Disaster #2)

Adam stood beside us. I got up, pulling Abby along with me.

“I’m glad to see you guys made it out,” Adam said, looking stunned and bewildered. “Where’s Trent?”

I didn’t answer.

Our eyes returned to the charred remains of Keaton Hall, the thick black smoke still billowing from the windows. Abby buried her face into my chest and gripped my shirt in her small fists.

It was a nightmarish scene, and all I could do was stare.

“I have to uh . . . I have to call my dad,” I said, furrowing my brow.

“Maybe you should wait, Travis. We don’t know anything, yet,” Abby said.

My lungs burned, just like my eyes. The numbers blurred together as tears overflowed and poured down my cheeks. “This ain’t fucking right. He shoulda never been there.”

“It was an accident, Travis. You couldn’t have known something like this was going to happen,” Abby said, touching my cheek.

My face compressed, and I clenched my eyes shut. I was going to have to call my father and tell him that Trenton was still inside a burning building, and that it was my fault. I didn’t know if my family could handle another loss. Trenton had lived with my dad while trying to get back on his feet, and they were a little closer than the rest of us.

My breath caught as I punched in the numbers, imagining my father’s reaction. The phone felt cold in my hand, and so I pulled Abby against me. Even if she didn’t know it yet, she had to be freezing.

The numbers turned into a name, and my eyes widened. I was getting another call.

“Trent?”

“Are you okay?” Trent yelled in my ear, his voice thick with panic.

A surprised laugh escaped my lips as I looked at Abby. “It’s Trent!”

Abby gasped and squeezed my arm.

“Where are you?” I asked, desperate to find him.

“I’m at Morgan Hall, you dumb fuck! Where you told me to meet you! Why aren’t you here?”

“What do you mean you’re at Morgan? I’ll be there in a second, don’t you fucking move!”

I took off in a sprint, dragging Abby behind me. When we reached Morgan, we were both coughing and gasping for breath. Trenton ran down the steps, crashing into both of us.

“Jesus H. Christ, brother! I thought you were toast!” Trenton said, squeezing us tight.

“You asshole!” I screamed, shoving him away. “I thought you were fucking dead! I’ve been waiting for the firefighters to carry your charred body from Keaton!”

I frowned at Trenton for a moment, and then pulled him back into a hug. My arm shot out, fumbling around until I felt Abby’s sweater, and then pulled her back into a hug as well. After several moments, I let Trenton go.

Trenton looked at Abby with an apologetic frown. “I’m sorry, Abby. I panicked.”

She shook her head. “I’m just glad you’re okay.”

“Me? I would have been better off dead if Travis had seen me come out of that building without you. I tried to find you after you ran off, but then I got lost and had to find another way. I walked along the outside wall looking for that window, but I ran into some cops and they made me leave. I’ve been flippin’ the fuck out over here!” he said, running his hand over his head.

I wiped Abby’s cheeks with my thumbs, and then pulled up my shirt, using it to wipe the soot from my face. “Let’s get out of here. The cops are going to be crawling all over the place soon.”

After hugging my brother again, he headed to his car, and we walked to America’s Honda. I watched Abby buckle her seat belt, and then frowned when she coughed.

“Maybe I should take you to the hospital. Get you checked out.”

“I’m fine,” she said, interlacing her fingers in mine. She looked down, seeing a deep cut across my knuckles. “Is that from the fight or the window?”

“The window,” I answered, frowning at her bloodied nails.

Her eyes turned soft. “You saved my life, you know.”

My eyebrows pushed together. “I wasn’t leaving without you.”

“I knew you’d come.”

I kept Abby’s hand in mine until we arrived at the apartment. Abby took a long shower, and with shaky hands, I poured us both a glass of bourbon.

She padded down the hallway, and then collapsed onto the bed in a daze.

“Here,” I said, handing her a full glass of amber liquid. “It’ll help you relax.”

“I’m not tired.”

I held out the glass again. She might have grown up around mobsters in Vegas, but we’d just seen death—a lot of it—and barely escaped it ourselves. “Just try to get some rest, Pidge.”

“I’m almost afraid to close my eyes,” she said, taking the glass and gulping the liquid down.

I took the empty glass and sat it on the nightstand, then sat beside her on the bed. We sat in silence, reflecting on the last few hours. It didn’t seem real.

“A lot of people died tonight,” I said.

“I know.”

“We won’t find out until tomorrow just how many.”

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