Page 46 of Full Throttle

“Shut it.”

“Can I have a bigger allowance?”

“Chase…” I warned.

“Maybe we can play ball on Sunday.”

His teasing made me smile. “Whatever.” I sat down, suddenly tired. He sat next to me.

“Seriously, you okay?”

“My head aches, and I smell like smoke. I feel as if I coughed up a lung earlier, but otherwise, I’m good.” I sighed. “As long as Cherry is okay, I’m good.”

“Thank you,” he said quietly. “Hannah would have been devastated if⁠—”

I held up my hand, not allowing him to finish that sentence. “Let’s not go there.”

“Okay. She is going to be fine. And so are you. We’ll all help.”

I shut my eyes, the pounding in my head becoming too much. “Good plan.”

CHERRY

The sound of Hannah’s voice woke me from my dreamlike state. Or nightmare feel, if I was being honest.

Fragments floated through my brain as I struggled to open my eyes. Leaving the salon with a headache. Going upstairs and taking some medication. Lying down, then waking up confused and surrounded by fog. Except, it wasn’t fog. It was smoke. Thick, rancid smoke that billowed around me, making me cough, stranding me lost in a room that a short time ago was familiar. I left my bed, falling over the rug and getting up, unsure which direction I was facing. I could see nothing but smoke. I knew I needed to move. To get to the door. But nothing seemed to work. My brain, my feet, my thought process—everything seemed to have short-circuited. I headed in what I thought was the direction of the door, except to hit the wall. I felt around, coughing and gasping for air until I felt the doorframe. I paused, drawing the map in my mind to the front door. To safety. I rushed forward, tripping over the small table, sprawling to the floor. I recalled the sharp pain in my head as well as my arm…and then nothing until I heard a voice calling my name.

Dom.

My eyes flew open, meeting Hannah’s tear-filled gaze.

“Oh, Mom,” she sobbed.

“Dom.” I reached for her hand, my movements jerky and causing me pain. “Dom was there. Is he okay?”

She laid her hand on my cheek. “Shh. He’s fine. He’s outside.”

“He saved me.”

I knew there was another memory there, but I couldn’t quite grasp it. It was something important, but my head hurt too much to concentrate.

“I know. The paramedics told me.”

“There was a fire,” I whispered.

She nodded. “In the salon.” She met my eyes. “It’s all gone, Mom. Everything.”

I shut my eyes. My head hurt. My arm ached terribly. My chest felt as if someone had put a fifty-pound weight on it. My throat was scratchy. The cannulas in my nose itched, and I wanted them gone.

“Water,” I begged.

A straw touched my lips, and I sipped gratefully.

“How bad?” I asked when I finished.

“You have a concussion, a broken arm, and you inhaled a lot of smoke.”

The last part wasn’t a surprise. I could taste the smoke. Smell it. I forced my eyes open and stared at the cast encircling my forearm.