Gravity

by Liz Crowe

  “Una momento,” she said, getting to her feet. “Mi Dios, my body hurts.”

  Kayla nodded, staring down at her dead phone’s screen and wondering why she was so wigged out. As she had decided to chalk it up to sheer exhaustion, the voice called out again.

  “Prisa! Es una emergencia!”

  Both Kayla and Melody froze. Melody blinked fast then ran toward the kitchen while Kayla stood, gripping her phone, her mind dancing over the many disasters that might have occurred in the last few hours that she’d been cloistered in this damn room.

  She listened but couldn’t hear Melody over the clanging and banging in the kitchen. Taking this as a good sign, she walked to the bar, thinking she’d drink more water to get the ashy taste out of her mouth. The sound of a door slamming against the wall behind her made her drop the full pitcher of water, dousing her lower legs and sending the plastic container bouncing merrily along the concrete floor.

  A figure stood in the doorway. She couldn’t make out the face but could tell it was a male, tall, well-built, short hair. But his face seemed to be coated in a layer of mud. Confused, she glanced toward the interior door that led to the kitchen, wondering if she should call for help. The muddy guy let out a loud, throat-rasping cough, then looked right at her and said, “Kayla, is that you?”

  Her heart seized up, leaving her gasping for breath as she processed that the man in the doorway was Brock. He was coughing again, hanging on to the doorway and staring at her from eyes that were white-rimmed, hollow in his dirty face. She walked out from behind the bar and toward him, even as she heard Melody’s shriek and a loud bang of something dropping in the kitchen.

  Brock reached for her, stumbling forward to get at her, saying her name over and over again in that shredded-sounding voice. As he yanked her to him, the smell of smoke and chemicals filled her senses. She let him hold her as she gripped his waist, ignoring the stench and burn in her throat.

  “Oh God, oh God, I thought…you were in there.” She peeled him off her and stared at him. The soot was mingled with other wetness on his face. “Kayla, honey. We have to go. We have to get Melody and get to the hospital, now.” He was tugging her, pulling her toward the open door.

  “Wait…why? What burned? Who is…?”

  Melody ran up to them, her eyes wild. “Can you take us, Brock? I have to be with him.”

  “Be with…who?” Her mind refused to calculate this. She felt herself shutting down, backing away, wanting to escape. But Brock had a firm grip on her hand.

  “Let’s go. My car’s right out there.” Melody marched out ahead of them, a determined set to her shoulders. Kayla’s feet would not cooperate and obey her mental orders to move.

  Brock hesitated, turning back to her. “Kayla, honey, it’s Trent. He went into the…the…building.”

  “What building?” She realized she was being irrational and causing unnecessary delay but she had to hear it for herself.

  “Your God damned building, Kayla. It burned to the fucking ground about half an hour ago but Trent tried to go in and find you and he—” His sentence ended with more violent coughing. “We have to get to the hospital before—”

  But she was already out of the door and climbing into the back seat of his still-running car before he could finish. Melody was in the front seat, staring straight ahead, hand resting on the shelf of her belly. Her eyes were dry, her jaw clenched as Brock got in and screeched out into the night traffic without a word to either of them.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  “I’m sorry but you all can’t go in at once. Mr. Hettinger is in critical condition. Only one visitor at a time, only immediate family members…hey!”

  Brock shrugged at the hapless nurse when both Melody and Kayla ignored her and walked into Trent’s room together. He got a glimpse of a wall of machines and heard a cacophony of noises before the door shut behind them, leaving him alone, shaking and adrenaline depleted. Not to mention starving.

  Instead of seeking out food or water, he sat, staring at the closed door, unsure what to do now that he’d fulfilled his part of things. He guessed he should go home. Leave the family to their wounded and their healing.

  An alarm began to clang and a red light flashed over Trent’s door. Several medical types ran in as Kayla stumbled out, hand over her mouth, tears streaming down her face. Brock rose and went to her, holding her while she sobbed into his shirt. He pressed his lips to her hair, unable to resist the need for more connection. She sniffled and looked up at him. Her face was soot-streaked, he realized from earlier, when he’d grabbed onto her out of sheer disbelief that she was there, at the damn bar, alive and well.

  “He’s… I don’t… How did this happen?”

  “He thought you were in there. He wanted to save you.”

  “You were there too?” She wandered to a set of chairs and fell into one.

  He joined her, taking her hand and pressing her knuckles to his lips. “Yeah, but I’ve got this aversion to running into collapsing, burning buildings, I guess.”

  She smiled then put her hands over her face and shook so hard he glanced around in search of a nurse in case she needed one. “Well, I guess I know who my real hero is, then,” she said, accepting the tissue he held out from a box he’d found nearby.

  “Without a doubt,” he admitted. She sighed and leaned into his shoulder.

  He held on to her as they waited, together, while Trent’s door stayed closed in front of them. At some point, Austin appeared, with a terrified Taylor. Kayla got up and hugged her then pulled her toward the door. He followed them, his need to protect her stronger than ever. It opened, revealing a bunch of scrub-wearing types, and Melody, curled up next to Trent in the tiny hospital bed.

  Before the door could swing shut, Kayla held it and pushed Taylor inside then turned back to him and wrapped her arms around his waist. They stood like that for a while, until a doctor approached them.

  “Are you family?” he asked, poking at his tablet screen.

  “Yes. I’m his sister.” Brock stood with his arm around her shoulders. “That’s his wife and daughter in there. Should I get them?”

  “Yes, please. I’d like to talk to all of you at once.”

  “I’ll get them,” Brock said, ducking into the room where he talked the Hettinger women away from the bed with promises of medical updates waiting outside.

  “Okay, so I think we’ve established that Mr. Hettinger was not fully saturated as was first feared.”

  “Saturated?” Melody asked, her voice calm.

  “Yes, we were afraid that the smoke had suffused his lungs to the point where it was poisoning his bloodstream, but that isn’t the case. He only had a few cuts that seem minor and his skin wasn’t terribly affected. We’ve kept him on steroids a while and want to keep the intubation in place overnight. But all in all, he is a very lucky man. He should make a full recovery.”

  “Oh, dear Jesus,” Melody moaned and slumped against the wall.

  The doctor took in her obvious condition and motioned for a nurse. “Let’s get you into a bed, shall we? I don’t like the way your skin is flushed. Just a quick blood pressure check and…”

  Melody yanked herself away from them and stood straight. “I will stay with my husband. Anything you want to do to me will have to be done in his room.” She marched herself back in there, leaving the earnest-looking doctor and nurse at a loss.

  “So he’s…he’s going to live. And he won’t be damaged or anything, right?” Kayla heard the weak sound of her voice at the same time her stomach let out a loud growl. She glared at the doctor. “How long before he can go home?”

  The doctor nodded toward the room then glanced at his tablet again. “Three days, tops. As long as nothing unexpected arises.”

  “Okay.” She slumped into Brock who tightened his hold on her shoulders. “Okay, then. Good.”

  The doctor gave them a quick smile then headed down the hall to his next crisis. Brock guided her back to the seats, where Au
stin waited, holding bags of delicious-smelling food.

  “I don’t know about you, but my stomach is going to rebel if I don’t put something in it,” he said, helping her into a chair then grabbing the bag with a quick thanks to his brother. He pulled out sandwiches and fries, handing some to her before devouring one so fast he barely tasted it.

  His own throat felt ragged, as if he’d swallowed glass, but he powered past it, needing the food more than worry over something that would go away on its own. Kayla ate a few bites then put the food on the table in front of them and leaned back, her eyes closed. “I can’t believe he did that.”

  “Me neither,” Brock said around a mouthful of fries. “But thank God he’s all right.”

  She opened one eye and peered at him. “I’ve missed you,” she said, surprising him. “I mean, I don’t have anyone to make snarky comments to during meetings anymore.”

  He grinned then sipped from a water bottle, feeling nearer to human than he had in hours. “Yeah, that would have been worth near death from smoke inhalation. What was I thinking?” He smacked his forehead. She frowned and threw some fries at him. He picked them off his shirt and lap and ate them with gusto. Without thinking, he grabbed her hand again and pressed it to his heart. “I thought I lost you today, Kayla. I didn’t care for that very much.” Understatement of the century but he knew he had to go slow, not to scare her.

  She blinked fast and bit her lip.

  “No need to say anything. I just wanted you to know.” He let go of her and leaned back in the seat, settling in for a long wait. They sipped water in silence. When she took his hand and threaded her fingers through his, he felt as if his whole universe had righted itself. Keeping it low-key, he shot her a quick smile then kept drinking, relishing the sweet warmth of her hand in his.

  After about an hour, Melody and Taylor emerged from Trent’s room. Kayla ran up and hugged them then turned to Brock. “You don’t have to stay, you know. But I’m going to stick it out here tonight.”

  He rose, stretched and gathered up the remains of their dinner before tossing it into a bin. “I’ll stick it out too, if that’s okay?”

  Kayla ducked her head but he saw her blush. Melody nodded and gave him a quick hug. “Can you find me something to eat, maybe? Tay? You need anything?”

  “On it, ladies.” He snapped a quick salute once Taylor admitted that she was starving, too. Before he headed out to seek and find the comfort food they required, he turned to Kayla, took her hand and blurted out something he’d been thinking for the last hour. “I want to take you out on a date. A real date, like with clothes that don’t reek of bar or fiery inferno. To a place where the food is so expensive they don’t even put the prices on the menus. Can I interest you in such an outing, Miz Hettinger?”

  He saw Melody and Taylor smile behind her but was discouraged by the frown on Kayla’s face at his question. “You’re got a nerve, Fitzgerald.”

  “So I’ve been told,” he quipped, hoping to calm her with an attempt at humor.

  “You think you can distract me from the fact that you didn’t rush into the burning building to save me with a date? Seriously?” The left side of her lips lifted, reminding him of the first time he’d seen her and marveled at her slow, subtle smile.

  “God, Aunt Kay, lighten up. Go out with him. He’s cute.” Taylor gave her shoulder a fake punch.

  “Okay, fine. But I’d better not get the menu with the prices on it.”

  Brock kissed her knuckles, much to the delight of the watching women and to the further deepening of Kayla’s blush. “Never. The places I’m talking about always make sure the man gets the prices. I’m a pig that way.”

  She chuckled and pretended to push him away, but the way she looked at him—with hope, and relief, and happiness—stayed with him for hours.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Trent ended up hospitalized almost two weeks, fighting an infection that had settled in one of the supposed minor cuts on his arm. Kayla stayed in his loft with Melody and Taylor during that time, fighting the urge to panic every time her phone rang, assuming it was more bad news from his doctors. He was released on a Thursday afternoon, and both he and Melody had insisted that she stay with them through the weekend.

  Friday morning, she got up early and made a big pancake breakfast, complete with fresh fruit and maple syrup. As they all sat, basking in the fall morning sunshine streaming through the wall of windows and sipping the dregs of their coffee, Kayla began to feel like she was a part of something—part of a family—that might be the real deal.

  “What’re you smiling about?” Melody asked her as she walked around collecting the mugs.

  “Oh, nothing.”

  “Nothing, huh? Does his name start with a B and rhyme with rock?”

  “What? No…I mean. I wasn’t thinking about him right then, anyway.”

  “When’s the big date?” Taylor asked over the top of her tablet.

  “What date?” Trent asked, his voice still raspy from smoke damage.

  “None of your business. Actually. I should go.” She got up, nervous in the face of Trent’s glare, her wellbeing of a few moments prior dispersed into the ether.

  “Wait. Sit down a minute. We need to talk.”

  “I have to get to work,” she insisted as she helped load the dishwasher. “Tell your wife to sit down. She looks tired.”

  “Stop trying to distract me, damn it.”

  Melody nudged her. “Go on. Let him get it off his chest. Then you can go. You’re not opening today.”

  She sighed, wiped her hands on a dishtowel and made her slow way back out to the main loft room, where her brother sat in one corner of a huge leather couch, his feet up on the ottoman. He was thin and wasted after his two weeks on hospital food and IV drugs. The sight of him lacerated her heart with guilt. She sat on the ottoman next to his feet and folded her hands in her lap, willing to listen to him. She owed him that much at least.

  “That’s more like it. Jesus, you women are going to be the death of me.”

  “Ha, yeah, literally,” Taylor quipped.

  He glared at her then focused on Kayla. “I found a place for you to live.” He turned his computer tablet around so she could see the screen. “Go on, scroll through the pictures.”

  She did, already formulating arguments in her head. After a few seconds, she glanced up at him, confused. “Did you hit your head while you were playing hero-rescuer or something, baby brother? These are pictures of this place.”

  He put his hands behind his head, looking satisfied with himself. She frowned down at the tablet again. “I don’t get it. Sorry.”

  Melody appeared in the doorway, hand on her baby bump, which had grown in the past few weeks. “We’re moving. I wanted a house and a yard and all that comes with it. I found one. We made an offer and we’ll be moving in about a month.”

  “You’re…moving?”

  Taylor grinned at her. “Yeah! I get a whole princess suite and shit for my last year home before college. Can you stand it?”

  “I’m going full McMansion again, I’m afraid,” Trent said, holding out his hand to his wife who slid into his lap. “Anything for mi esposa, here.” They kissed. Kayla rolled her eyes at Taylor then cleared her throat. He pulled away from her with an even wider grin. “But this time, it’s a renovated older home, so it comes with character as opposed to crappy construction.”

  Melody moved to sit beside him and took the tablet from Kayla’s hands. “We want you to have this place. It’s perfect, no?”

  “I’m… I can’t…”

  “Yes. You are and you can. And by dint of me almost dying to save your nonexistent ass in that fucking flop house, you will not argue with me. Got it?” His eyes glittered at her.

  “I’ll think about it. I mean, it’s such a kind offer. Too kind. You don’t have to… I mean, couldn’t you make a ton of dough if you sell it? I hear the market is smoking hot for this kind of hipster paradise.”

  “I don�
��t need the dough, sister dear. What I need is to know you’re living somewhere safe, within a ten or fifteen-minute drive of me and my growing familia.” He ran his hand across Melody’s tummy.

  “I…don’t know what to say.”

  “It’s easy. Say—Thank you hero brother of mine. I will take you up on this offer and, in the meantime, will continue to camp out in the extra bedroom.”

  “You’re trying to bribe me out of being mad at you for…” She glanced over at Taylor, who was ignoring the annoying adults around her. “You know.”

  “Perhaps. But as I said, I am now beyond the reach of that potential error of judgment, remember?” He pointed to the bandage covering the hole the EMTs had to cut into his throat so he could breathe.

  “Look at it this way,” Melody said, leaning into Trent and draping one of her long legs over his. “This place has tons of room for…more people.”

  She blushed fast and hot. “There won’t be any more people, Melody,” she insisted. “And like I said, I’ll think about it. But I’m not staying here for another month, underfoot. This may be a palatial lofty mansion but it’s not big enough for four and a half of us.” She winked at Melody. “I’ve found a temporary place and I can afford it so allow me the dignity of doing that, at least, while I decide what to do about your too-generous offer.”

  Trent waved her off. “Fine. Fine. Think all you want but in a month, this will be your new address, mark my words, Kayla.”

  She pecked the top of his head, patted Melody’s shoulder and gave Taylor a quick hug in passing. “I’m moving into my extended-stay hotel tonight. I’ll see you tomorrow, Melody. Brother, you rest up. Doctor’s orders. No master of the universe bullshit for a few days.”

  “I’m just sitting here, master of my own universe right now, K.” His eyes were bright.

  She nodded, her chest tight with emotion at the sight of him, happy at last with a woman who could handle him and a daughter who handled them both.

  An hour after she started her shift, Brock wandered in, laptop at the ready. He’d been hanging out at the bar a lot while she was there, not talking to her that much but soothing her with his presence. They had talked about one thing—their commitment to the Boys and Girls Clubs. She’d already been through the volunteer approval process and went two evenings a week to mentor a couple of teen girls who thought they were the hardest asses around. It was a buzz, getting to know them and letting them know that they didn’t have to be so tough all the time. She’d gotten them interested in drawing. Since she’d lost her old sketch books in the fire—her only truly valuable possessions—she’d been filling new ones like crazy, inspired by the renewal of her friendship with Brock.