Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 92536 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 463(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92536 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 463(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
“I got you.” He recognized the voice now. “Fire department is two minutes out. We gotta get the fuck outta here. It won’t be but a minute before the flames make it up here. Or the fucking floor collapses.”
“R-randy?” A wet cloth wiped across his eyes.
“Yeah. Figure the least I owe Tate is to keep you from dying. Maybe then he’ll be able to forgive me for being such a piece of shit.”
He blinked. The apartment came into view, blurry but clear enough that he wouldn’t crash into anything.
Randy coming to his rescue was almost as shocking as the fire itself.
Liam used what little strength he had left to push up to his knees.
“C’mon, lean on me.” Randy’s arm went around his waist. He hauled Liam to his feet, tucking him close. “You solid?”
“No.” A weak chuckle escaped but turned into a coughing fit once again.
“Shit, I can hear it in the stairwell. We gotta move.”
Together, they made it out the door and down the outdoor stairs. Sirens blared in a loud chorus of help coming for them. Randy kept an arm around him as he hobbled around the front of the building, coughing and spitting out black crud the entire way. His vision cleared enough to see well again, but his eyes stung like someone had taken coarse sandpaper to his eyeballs.
Two enormous fire trucks filled the parking lot. A dozen or so firefighters ran around listening to the orders of one barking from near the truck.
“Hey!” Randy shouted, waving his free arm. “We need an EMT over here.” He coughed, sounding almost as bad as Liam did.
Two women dressed in uniform ran from an ambulance straight to them, pushing a rolling gurney. Randy stepped away as they reached him.
“Anyone else inside?”
“No,” Randy said, shaking his head. “It was just us.” He was filthy, covered in black soot, with two white, frazzled eyes peeking through.
The EMTs took over in an instant, professional and efficient in their assessment. Two seconds later, Liam was seated on the gurney with an oxygen mask over his nose and mouth, a blood pressure cuff on his arm, and an IV in his hand.
“Luxe!”
Tate’s frantic shout had Liam’s spine snapping straight.
“Luxe! Someone tell me where the fuck he is.”
Tate. Liam tried to hop off the gurney.
A strong hand clamped down on his shoulder. “Don’t even think about it, buddy.”
“Please,” he rasped, voice like death. “That’s my boyfriend. I need to see him.”
“We’ll get him over to you. You are to do nothing but sit here and breathe all that wonderful pure oxygen.”
“Luxe!”
“Over here, T,” Randy called back, waving his arms.
Tate tore around the side of a fire truck, appearing like a rough country angel. Liam tried again to jump down but was restrained by a scowling EMT. He paid her no mind, focusing all his attention on the man sprinting toward him.
The man he loved.
“Jesus Christ, Luxe,” Tate cried as he slammed into Liam’s open arms so hard the gurney wobbled. “Fucking hell, I was so scared.”
Liam squeezed Tate as he sobbed against him. Of course, it kicked off a coughing fit, which had Tate releasing him with a gasp. “Shit, sorry.”
“Don’t go.” Liam clung to his forearms.
Tate cupped his face. “I’m not going anywhere. You’re stuck with me, Luxe.”
They were the best words Tate could have spoken. “I love you, Tate.” He coughed and wept at the same time.
“Shh, don’t talk, Luxe. Just breathe.” Tate kissed his cheek, forehead, then chin, basically anywhere not covered by the mask as he whispered how much he loved Liam and how terrified he’d been. When the EMT finally forced him to release Liam, black soot covered his mouth and nose.
“I got you all messy,” Liam croaked as the EMT fussed with his oxygen mask. He reached for Tate’s face to wipe away the soot, but the EMT had bandaged both his hands, and he didn’t want to dirty up her work.
“I don’t give a fuck about that,” Tate said as he caught Liam’s wrapped hand in his. “How bad is he hurt?” he asked the EMT, scanning the bandages with a frown.
The EMT checked the blood pressure reading and wrote something on her clipboard. “He’s got some pretty serious smoke inhalation for sure. BP is a little high, but that’s no surprise, considering. There is a nasty burn on his right hand. The left isn’t as bad, but it has a few spots that need attention. We’re gonna transport him to the hospital for a more in-depth evaluation.” She spoke in a clinical tone devoid of emotion.
Liam shook his head. It felt weird to be talked about while sitting right there. He scowled at the stoic EMT, unlike Tate, who gifted her a winning smile. “He’s the most important thing in the world to me, Risa.”
Risa might be fooled, but Liam saw the stress and strain beneath Tate’s fake smile.