Chapter 36
Chapter Thirty-Six
Emily
“Emily, can I go play with the kittens at the barn? I want to take them the treats we got!” Alex’s voice bellows from the kitchen so loudly my brain feels like it’s reverberating against the inside of my skull.
“Uh—yeah, sure,” I call back, leaning heavily against the doorframe while nursing the worst hangover known to man. “Be careful, though. There’s still wedding gear everywhere. Be back in an hour—Mary will have dinner ready by then.”
“No problem!” he hollers, already halfway out the door before the sentence is finished.
I smile to myself, watching his small, energetic frame disappear toward the South Barn.
God, he loves those kittens. I know his obsession drives Wyatt and Owen insane, but they’ve been his shadow for weeks.
Jax thinks they’re about six weeks old, and I’m already dreading the day I have to tell him it’s time to find them forever homes.
I secretly have a plan to let him keep one of them. He’s particularly enamored with the little tuxedo cat he named Eric, and the thought of taking him away is something my heart just can’t take. I am not going to break his little heart like that.
Besides, if Wyatt wants to protest, all I have to do these days is flash him in the barn, and I pretty much get anything I ask for. He’s a total goner for me, and I’m not above using a little skin to get my way when it comes to Alex’s happiness.
The second the door slams shut, my smile fades. My head is pounding in a way that suggests a full liver transplant might be the only cure. I’m not proud of it, but I’ve already thrown up twice this morning.
Last night got…out of hand.
The moment we stepped back into that barn, and I flashed this massive rock on my finger, the place erupted. It was a heady, love-filled celebration fueled by far too much champagne and a spontaneous midnight swim in the creek that I’m still feeling in my bones.
Despite his own thumping head, Wyatt had cattle to haul over to the Naylor Ranch today. All I could do was send him off with a gallon of water, some aspirin, and a blessing.
I head toward the master bedroom. I still find it weird to call it our room, but I love the way the words feel in my head.
Pushing through the heavy bathroom door, I can't help but smirk. Wyatt’s former ultimate man cave has been officially taken over by distinctly girly touches over the past few months.
I turn on the creaky faucet and let the water run scalding hot.
I lean over the tub, intentionally inhaling the steam in the desperate hope it’ll clear my sinuses and shake this pulsating headache.
I add a few drops of lavender oil. I once saw an Instagram post that said it was good for tension, but honestly, at this point, I should probably snort the stuff.
Once the water is hot enough to melt skin, I tug off my hoodie and let my jeans pool on the floor.
I step into the tub and twist my hair into a claw clip.
I have zero intention of washing it. That requires an exertion level I simply do not possess today.
My only agenda for the rest of the night is dragging my fiancée up to bed and falling asleep with his big, warm arms wrapped around me.
I stay in the water for a long time, breathing in the floral steam and admiring the way the emerald cut diamond sparkles on my left hand.
I’m going to be someone’s wife. I’m going to be a Miller.
It’s so funny to me now that I spent years as a kid, wishing I could be a real Miller like the others.
If only little Emily knew how it would come to fruition.
When the water temperature finally starts to drop, and my fingers begin to wrinkle, I take it as my sign to get out and check on Alex. He’s been gone a while, and the sun is dipping behind the peaks, casting shadows across the yard.
I haul myself out of the tub, feeling the tension subside.
The water sloshes as I step onto the soft white bathmat.
I wrap myself in a towel that’s been warming on the rail and head into the bedroom to dry off.
I tug on a pair of sweatpants and one of Wyatt’s T-shirts, because I am all about the comfort tonight.
Still unable to regulate my temperature from the alcohol sweats, I pull on his big zipper jacket for warmth.
I walk over to the window, my bare feet sinking into the rug, intending to pull the curtains and shut out the world. But as I reach for the fabric, my hand freezes.
There’s a glow reflecting off the glass.
I lean in, my heart giving a sudden, uncomfortable jolt against my ribs.
Usually, the view toward the South Barn is just shadows and the silhouettes of the oak trees this time of night.
But now, a thick, roiling plume of black smoke is coiling up into the pink and lilac sky, illuminated from beneath by a sickening, angry pulse of orange.
The wranglers are already circling it, their voices frantic.
My breath hitches, fogging the pane.
“The barn,” I whisper, the word not quite leaving my throat quick enough.
Alex.
My mind doesn’t even have time to engage before I’m sprinting.
I’m down the stairs and out the door in a blur of motion.
The gravel bites into my bare feet sharply, but I don’t care.
I only pick up speed when I hit the grass.
The barn isn’t far, but the seconds feel like hours.
It’s like time is moving in reverse, stretching out the distance between me and that orange glow.
“Alex!” I shout, my voice cracking against the roar of the heat.
Dayton’s head whips around as he sees me motoring toward him. He’s got at least a foot on me in height, and he’s double my width. I can see the split-second realization in his eyes—he’s going to try and catch me.
“Emily!” he shouts, the look of horror on his face mirroring the hellscape behind him.
“Alex is in there!”
“What?!” Dayton’s voice breaks with a sound of pure terror.
My legs are working overtime, churning through the grass.
Dayton lunges, reaching out to snag my arm and pull me back, but he doesn’t quite make it.
I’m too fast, fueled by a panicked energy I didn’t know I possessed.
I have no plan. The flames are almost engulfing the entire structure now, the ancient wood groaning under the weight of the fire, but there is only one thought screaming in my mind.
I have to get to Alex.
I hear voices shouting behind me, but I can’t make out who they are.
“He’s going to kill us!” someone bellows.
“She’s insane! The boy is in there!”
Then, suddenly, I stop hearing them. Their voices are swallowed by the ravaging roar of the fire as I burst inside. The rafters are a grid of blazing orange, and I know I only have seconds before the whole thing falls. The thick smoke is already curling into my lungs.
I pull the collar of Wyatt’s jacket over my mouth, but it barely helps. The heat is a physical weight, crushing the air out of me. My eyes are burning, vision blurring into a haze of soot, sparks, and the charred remnants of last night’s floral arrangements fill the air.
Where is he? Where is he?
I’m frantically searching for him.
Then I spot him. He’s curled on his side at the top of the hayloft ladder, sobbing, one small hand clamped over his mouth.
“Alex!” I shout, but a cloud of black smoke rushes into my throat.
I fall into a fit of violent coughing, sweat rolling off my forehead as smoke stings my eyes. “Alex! You have to get down!”
His eyes widen as he spots me. He starts to yell, but it’s hard to hear him over the roar of the flames. “The kittens…they ran out…but I got stuck!”
He starts coughing uncontrollably, his small frame shaking. Above him, a massive supporting beam is charred black, vibrating with the heat. It’s going to give at any second.
“Alex, don’t talk! Keep your mouth covered! I’m coming up!”
He nods, his sobs turning into ragged gasps.
I grip the wooden ladder, the heat of the rungs searing my palms as I put my weight on it. The higher I climb, the more it feels like walking into a furnace. I reach him, heart thumping violently in my chest as I guide him down the rungs from behind, shielding his body with mine.
The moment our feet hit the dirt, a heavy timber comes crashing down, setting a hay bale next to the main door alight.
Our exit is vanishing. I don’t hesitate.
I yank Wyatt’s hoodie off, leaving me in just the thin T-shirt, and I wrap the thick fabric around Alex’s face.
It’s a desperate attempt to filter the air for him, even as I feel my own lungs giving out.
“Stay low!” I urge, my voice a broken rasp.
We both crouch as the structure groans with an ominous sound. I keep my arm hooked around him, guiding him through the wall of gray soot. In the distance, I hear the faint wail of sirens.
Thank God.
But the main barn door is bolted shut from the inside, and the other entrance is already a wall of fire. No one can get to us. I’m the only one who can get us out.
We finally reach the heavy wooden bolt as another flaming beam thunders down onto the ladder we just descended.
It missed us by seconds. The iron bolt is white hot, but I don’t have a choice.
I grab it, the skin on my palms hissing, and I shove.
The wood is swollen from the heat, the bolt jammed tight.
I set Alex down, making sure his face is still covered, and I kick at the door with every ounce of force left in my body. On the third hit, the wood splinters, and the bolt goes flying.
Fresh air and thick smoke collide in a violent billow. My head goes light, the world spinning in nauseating circles. I grab Alex and virtually throw him out into the grass, away from the heat. My legs manage a few more staggering steps before they give in completely.
My vision is failing, my body even more so. The last thing I feel before the world goes black are arms catching me as I fall. I couldn’t tell you who they are. I just let go.