Page 97 of Good For Me

I’d hoped after our kiss on the dance floor, we might start moving further, but in the week-and-a-half since we’ve been home, I’ve barely seen her. We got together only once, to hit up a book store where we picked out a truly ridiculous number of baby books. She’s been really busy with school and work, but I can’t stop myself from thinking that maybe she’s pulling back again.

I have no idea when I turned into a character in a sappy chick-flick, but here we are.

“One sec,” I tell my mom, bringing the phone to my ear. “Hey. Everything okay?”

“Um. Hey.” Jas’s voice sounds off. Shaky and a little breathless. Worry immediately grips me. “I guess that depends on your definition of okay?”

I’m halfway out of my chair already, patting my pockets for my keys.

“What’s wrong? What happened?” A stab of fear like I’ve never known before hits me straight in the chest. “Are you okay? The baby?”

“I’m okay,” she says, but her voice still sounds weird. “But um…I could use a ride.”

I rub a hand across my chest, trying to get my heart to slow the fuck down. I’m dimly aware of my mother coming to stand beside me, her hand on my arm to steady me.

“There was a fire,” she says, her voice shaking. “At the bar.”

“Your uncle’s bar? Holy shit. Is everyone okay? Jesus, were you inside?”

“I was upstairs in the apartment,” she says, voice breaking. “I heard the alarm and…”

“Fuck.” The idea of her inside that building when the fire started sends a fresh rush of fear through me. “Where are you now?”

“The firefighters have everyone corralled in the parking lot next door.”

That’s too damn close. What if she inhales smoke? What if the fucking building comes down?

“River,” my mom says, looking nearly as worried as I feel. I cover the phone’s speaker.

“There was a fire at Jas’s uncle’s bar. She was inside, but she’s okay.” Just saying those words makes me want to puke. I bring the phone back to my ear. “Where’s your car? Can you get out of there?” It’s everything I can do to keep the panic I’m feeling from bleeding into my voice.

“They won’t let us back into Davie’s parking lot,” she says, sounding close to tears, and my heart bottoms out. I haven’t ever heard Jas sound so scared, not even when she told me about the baby. “My uncle isn’t here and I don’t…it’s really bad, River. The entire building is just…it’s bad.”

I don’t even bother saying goodbye to my mom. I merely wave at her over my shoulder, already halfway to the door, keys in my hand. “Stay where you are. I’m on my way.”

* * *

I don’t thinkI breathe properly until I actually see Jas standing in front of me in the crowded parking lot next door to the bar. Even then I find it difficult to keep my shit together. The fire crew is doing a good job of keeping people away from the still-smoking building, but seeing her standing anywhere near it, the scent of smoke heavy in the air, makes me want to break things.

“Are you okay?” I ask when I get to her side. And then, because I can’t help myself, I pull her against me.

She stiffens slightly, maybe surprised, but then lets herself melt into my arms. “I’m fine, River,” she says, her voice soft and soothing. Which should be my job right now—I should be soothing her. But I find now that I’m holding her, my hands won’t stop shaking, and a thick lump has lodged in my throat, making it impossible to talk. I squeeze her tighter.

“River,” she says again, running her hands up and down my back. “I’m fine.”

“Scared the shit out of me,” I mutter into her hair. “I don’t ever want to hear the words you and fire used in the same sentence again.”

She laughs softly into my chest. “I think we’re in agreement there.”

I finally feel capable of pulling back enough to look at her face. God, it’s good to see her. She looks paler than usual and her eyes are red-rimmed, but I’m pretty sure she’s never looked more beautiful.

“What the hell happened?”

“I have no idea,” she says, shaking her head. “The fire crew hasn’t told us anything yet. But the sprinklers didn’t go off right away, and no one was in the kitchen when it started.”

“Jesus,” I mutter, a sharp stab of anger hitting me. It isn’t lunch time yet, so it makes perfect sense that no one would be in the kitchen. But people could have been seriously hurt.Jasminecould have been seriously hurt. All because the kitchen had been left unattended and the sprinkler system didn’t work.

The thought makes my knees feel week. My hands clench uselessly at my sides.