Chapter 7 #2
“No,” I snap, ignoring him. My focus is on my breathing. But it’s too late. My body is shaking. The stairwell is shrinking.
I’m eight years old again.
The air had been heavy. And so thick that it felt like someone was pressing a hand over my mouth. Heat licked at my cheeks. Smoke curled through the tiny gap beneath the bedroom door, slowly at first. Then in steady gray ribbons that stung my eyes and clawed down my throat.
I remembered coughing so hard, it shook my whole chest, each breath scraping like sandpaper.
“Princess Kaori! The door is stuck, but we’ll get you out! I promise!” The guard’s voice was muffled. “Stay low to the ground!” he shouted.
I dropped to my knees just like he said. The tatami mats were rough against my pajama pants and bit through to the skin.
Darkness swallowed everything. One moment I could see the faint outline of the door; the next it vanished completely. I blinked hard, but it didn’t matter. The blackness stayed.
I reached up anyway and fumbled blindly for the door handle. But when I found it, heat seared my palm. I jerked back with a cry. I didn’t understand yet that I’d burned myself. That part would come later.
Panic surged through me. I pounded my fists against the door until my knuckles screamed. “Help! Please! I’m in here!”
Somewhere beyond the walls, something cracked. It was sharp and loud. For a second I thought the ceiling was about to fall. Tears spilled down my cheeks, streaking through the soot “Help!” I’d screamed again.
Nobody answered. There were no footsteps or voices. Just the low, awful groan of timber and the hiss of smoke forcing its way in.
I curled into a ball on the floor, trying to make myself as small as possible, as if being small meant safety. My lungs burned. My eyes burned. My palm throbbed. And somewhere inside me, something settled into a cold, absolute certainty—Nobody was coming.
“Minami?” Theo’s voice cuts through the dark. There’s something raw in it, something I’ve never heard before. “Kaori?” he tries again, quieter this time.
I blink once. Twice. My lungs seize like I’ve sprinted a mile in the Florida heat.
The stairwell wavers into focus. Shadows swim at the edges of my vision as a narrow beam of light cuts through the inky darkness.
Theo’s holding his phone out. Then his hand, warm and startlingly gentle, closes around my shoulder.
There’s no fire or smoke. It’s just the building losing electricity.
“Hey. Look at me,” he says so softly, I barely recognize his voice. “Kaori, breathe. You’re safe. Nothing bad is going to happen.”
But my body hasn’t gotten the message. My chest keeps tightening. The air feels like someone siphoned half of it away. “I . . . I need . . . I need a second,” I sputter.
“You’ve got one.” Theo’s grip stays steady. “Breathe in through your nose.”
I try. It comes in a shudder.
“Out,” he tells me. I do as he says. “Good. Again.”
I latch on to his voice like it’s a handhold. In. Out. In. Out.
“That’s it,” he continues. “Now, focus on the here and now. Can you name three things you see?”
“Um . . . your luggage, phone, and my . . . my . . . my shoes.”
“Brilliant. Now three things you can touch.”
The flashlight beam is strong and bright. I stare at it until my eyes stop swimming. He shifts his phone slightly, and the light lands on my hands. My right palm is pressed to my blouse, fingers curled tight as if I’m holding something in place.
“My shirt,” I whisper. “The grit on the concrete stairs. And, um . . . your socks.”
He presses his phone into my hand, wrapping my fingers around it. “Hold that,” he says. “Point it at the steps.” His fingers brush mine—a brief, electric contact. Despite the heat of the stairwell, his skin is warm and steady, a sharp contrast to my own trembling.
“Okay,” I manage. My voice sounds thin.
“Last one,” he says, and I can hear the ghost of a challenge in his voice—a distraction tactic. “Name two things you’d add to a vertical coaster launch to make it more efficient.”
I pause, the absurdity of the question forcing my brain to pivot. I’m no longer an eight-year-old girl in a burning room. I’m an engineer. “A . . . a magnetic synchronous motor,” I breathe out, the technical terms acting like a balm. “And a dual-stage hydraulic catch-car.”
“There she is. Our newest engineer is back.” I can hear the relief in his exhale. “Now, two things,” he says, his voice regaining that firm, authoritative edge, but without the bite. “You’re going to keep breathing, and we’re going to keep moving.”
My stomach lurches. “I can’t—”
“You can,” he cuts in. “One step at a time. Count them if you need to. I’m right here.”
I swallow. My legs feel too heavy and too shaky. Like they belong to someone else. But I force myself upright. Theo doesn’t let go of my shoulder. His hand stays exactly where it is, steady pressure through fabric.
“Start,” he says.
I take one step. Then another. The flashlight beam bobs gently with my hands, illuminating the edge of each stair like it’s a pathway instead of a trap.
Theo keeps talking. Rambling about how I apparently committed a crime choosing spaghetti over the signature gnocchi at Mamma Lina’s. I murmur the occasional “uh-huh,” only half listening.
It feels like drifting in and out of sleep on a moving train. One moment you’re awake, and the next you’re suddenly at the final station with no memory of the stops in between.
When the fog finally thins, I register the sound of a lock turning. A soft, deliberate click.
“Katie, I know it’s early, but can you sneak us in?” Theo says. His voice is low and controlled. “It’s an emergency.”
“Only because it’s you, Theo,” replies a woman in a white apron over a black T-shirt and pants.
The door opens wider, and cool air washes over me. Theo guides me forward, his hand hovering near my elbow. It’s not quite touching, but close enough to catch me if the world starts to tilt again. He eases me into a chair, and I blink hard, trying to catch up with my own body.
A red-and-white checkered tablecloth stretches across the table in front of me. A basket of warm bread sits beside it. Soft curls of steam rise from beneath the cloth. We’re at Mamma Lina’s.
The place is deserted. Chairs are stacked on the tables, and the lights are dimmed low. I watch as the woman, who has light-brown hair pulled into a neat bun, flips the sign to CLOSED and turns the lock.
“Lina’s stepped out with Leon.” She chuckles. “So for now, you’re stuck with me,” she says, wiping her hands on her jeans as she turns back to us. “What can I get you?”
“Two waters and two of my usual for now,” Theo replies immediately.
She nods and disappears, returning moments later with the requested items. She sets them down quietly, then gestures toward the kitchen. “I’ll be in the back working on the bread. Call me if you need anything. I’m starting on the pumpernickel loaves.”
“Thank you,” Theo says.
She gives a small smile and vanishes into the kitchen.
I stare after her, still trying to piece together the last ten minutes. “Who was that?”
“Katie.” His tone is gentle. “She’s Lina’s right-hand woman and a brilliant tennis player.”
“Oh.” My voice sounds too bright, like I’m pretending at normal and hoping no one notices. “Do you play tennis?”
“No. I’m not that coordinated.” He slides one of the glasses toward me. “Drink this,” he says softly. “Then we can talk about anything you want.”
My fingers shake when I reach for it. I curl them tighter around the cup until the tremor fades. The dark liquid inside the coffee cup ripples, sloshing close to the rim without spilling. Steam curls upward, twisting into delicate shapes before fading into the air. I eye it warily. “What is this?”
“Lina’s signature drink.”
That tells me absolutely nothing. I lift the mug and smell a deep, rich coffee softened by something faintly sweet, almost floral. Cinnamon? Vanilla? Maybe both. The heat seeps through the ceramic and into my palms, steadying me in a way I didn’t realize I needed.
I take a sip. “Mmm . . .” The sound slips out before I can stop it. “This is exactly what I needed.”
When I look up, Theo is watching me. One brow arches, the corner of his mouth twitching like he’s barely restraining himself. “Careful,” he drawls. “If you make a noise like that in front of Lina, she’ll rope you into writing a five-star Yelp review.”
“I’d be happy to. Her food is yumalicious.”
“That’s not a real word.”
“It is. I just invented it.”
He chuckles. “I’m glad to hear you sounding more like yourself.” His voice is quiet.
I nod, even though I’m not sure that’s entirely true yet.
He leans back in his chair and finally reaches for his own mug.
As he takes a long sip, I really look at him and realize how rough he appears.
The whites of his eyes are threaded with red.
Dark shadows sit beneath like bruises. There’s a faint, persistent twitch near his temples, betraying just how exhausted he must be, even as his posture remains rigidly upright. Uneven stubble coats his jaw.
As I finish my coffee, Katie reappears at the table, a basket in her hands. “You still doing okay?” she asks, setting it down.
“Yes,” Theo says.
She gives a small nod, clearly satisfied. “Good. Lina just arrived. I told her you were here, and she started on the gnocchi.” Her lips curve. “I hope that’s all right.”
“I’ll never say no to anything Lina makes,” Theo replies easily. “Especially the gnocchi.”
“It’s his favorite,” I add, surprising myself with how casually the words come out.
He arches a brow. “You’ve been taking notes?”
“Hard not to,” I say lightly. “You talked about it the entire walk from the stairwell to here.”
“I didn’t think you were actually paying attention,” he says.
My cheeks warm. “I was. Partially.”
Katie snorts, clearly enjoying this far more than she should, but she doesn’t comment. She gathers our empty mugs and slips back toward the kitchen. I can hear her and Lina laughing about something a moment later.
Theo exhales and shakes his head, gaze dropping to his plate. I catch him muttering something under his breath that sounds suspiciously like, “They’re never going to let me live this down.”
I tear off a piece of the hot bread and butter it. “How often do you come here?”
His eyes flick to mine, then away again. “More than I should admit.” A pause. “Lina’s . . . family of a sort. She’s seen me at my best. And my worst.” He takes a piece of bread and rips it apart, like he’s stalling for time. “She always seems to know what I need.”
I wait. He doesn’t elaborate, but the silence does.
“Blood doesn’t guarantee much,” he adds quietly. “Lina does.”
Something shifts in my chest. For the first time since I met him, I wonder if there’s more to Theo Riverton than meets the eye.
“Ah, Theodore and Kaori—perfetto,” Lina proclaims as she emerges from the kitchen. “A fresh batch of gnocchi for you both.”
My mouth waters the moment she sets the plates in front of us. It won’t hit me until much later that she already knew my name.