15. Mike
Fifteen
Mike
The heat hits me first.
Then the smoke—thick and clinging.
The air inside burns my lungs.
Everything’s orange, dark, and wrong.
“Shanay!” I roar.
“Shanay!”
I hear something—
A faint cough. A voice.
“Back here—!”
I shove through the collapsed shelf, push past flaming wood, splintered beams.
I find her crouched near the back wall, surrounded by fallen books and debris, hands over her mouth, eyes wide with fear and disbelief.
“Mike?”
Her croaky voice guts me.
I drop to my knees beside her.
“Yeah, baby. I’m here. I’ve got you.”
She tries to stand. Wobbles. I lift her.
She clutches my neck like a lifeline.
I cover her mouth with the edge of my shirt and push us toward the exit.
My shoulder slams through the door as it finally gives way.
Smoke pours out behind us.
I don’t stop moving until we’re in the clear.
Until I can breathe.
Until I feel her chest rising against mine.
—-
She’s coughing.
Trembling.
Wrapped in my jacket.
Her face streaked with ash.
I hold her tighter.
“Mike…” she croaks.
“Don’t speak. Just breathe.”
I cup her cheek, press my forehead to hers.
“You scared the hell out of me.”
She swallows hard, then nods.
“I’m sorry I left. I’m sorry I didn’t—”
“No. No.” I shake my head. “I need to say this first.”
She goes still.
“I don’t know how to love,” I whisper.
“I only know how to hold on tight. To fight. To claim. To protect.”
She’s crying now.
“But you… you’re not something to guard. I want you to choose me. And I never gave you the chance to do that.”
I brush ash from her temple with a shaking thumb.
“I swear to God, Shanay—I’ll spend the rest of my life learning how to love you the way you need. If you let me.”
She lets out a broken sound, part sob, part laugh.
“Mike…”
A long beat.
Then her fingers thread through mine.
“You’re mine too,” she whispers.
I nod. “Yeah, baby. Yours.”
She leans in, and I kiss her like I’ve never kissed before.
With everything I am.