Chapter 17
NOVA
Iswear, I almost have as much stuff at the shop as I did in my entire apartment.
It takes three boxes to load up my machine, ink, stencils, sketchbooks, and portfolios.
There’s also some art on the wall in my room—funny, I never put anything up in the apartment—and some sweaters and jewelry that I left lying around.
I find a black Low Bar sweatshirt in a cabinet drawer and my stomach clenches. Lawson lent it to me a few weeks ago, when I was cold on our way into work. Because I’m weak, I bring it to my nose and take in a deep breath of his scent.
You have to go, Nova, I tell myself for the hundredth time since he left my apartment. There’s no point in staying until tomorrow. It will just give me false hope that something might change. Then I’ll have to do this all over again in the morning. Say goodbye to him. I don’t think I can stand it.
I do feel guilty about Linc. He’s been one of the few decent people in my life and I’m going to miss him like crazy. But he’ll understand. He’ll be happy to know I’m outside my uncle’s clutches.
I freeze with the sweatshirt still at my face when I hear a noise in the front of the building.
It sounds like something banging against the door.
Then there’s the sound of shattering glass and I cry out.
Is someone breaking in? I move to the door of my room and peak down the hallway.
If they’re in the front, I might be able to make it out the back without being seen—
A thumping, scrapping sound fills the air but it’s coming from behind me, from the back door.
I jerk back into my room, heart pounding.
I need to get out of here, I know that, but it sounds like there’s people at both exits and I feel frozen with fear.
I look around my room for something to protect myself.
I could lock myself in but the door is flimsy.
Then a sound pierces the air that has panic rushing through me. The fire alarm is blaring. I inch my head back out the door and don’t see anyone in the back or front. Instead, I see flames, massive red flames dancing across the walls and floor of the reception area.
Fuck. Whoever broke the window set the fucking shop on fire.
And from the way the fire is already roaring in the front, they must have used some kind of accelerant.
I run to the back door, away from the fire but it doesn’t budge when I push on it.
I scramble to unlock it from the inside, trying to keep the panic at bay, then turn the handle.
It turns like normal but—nothing happens. The door won’t push out.
I press my side against the door and push with all my might.
It opens an infinitesimal amount. It’s hitting something, I realize.
Something is in front of the door. I remember the sound that I’d heard, the loud scrape.
Did someone block this and then set the fire?
Then I feel heat from the other side of the door and my stomach bottoms out.
Whatever is blocking this door has also been set on fire.
I turn back down the hall and let out a terrified cry. The whole front of the shop is on fire—I can’t go that way.
But there’s no other door! I think, panic coursing through me. I run back into my room then curse. There are no windows in here because I share a wall with the building next door.
The office, I think. The office is in the back of the building and has a window to the alley. I dart back into the hallway, whimpering at how full of smoke it is. I’m pretty sure the fire is starting to spread down the hall.
I cover my face as best as I can and run to the office, then scream in fear and frustration when I find it locked.
I have to go back to my room for my keys but fuck, the smoke is getting thick.
I find my keys next to my phone on the cabinet and curse again.
Why the hell didn’t I call 911 the second the alarm went off?
I do it now, trying to balance the phone and still cover my mouth and nose while I stumble back across the hallway with my keys. It’s pitch dark out here now, black smoke roiling around me.
“911, what’s your emergency.”
“Fire,” I gasp out. Fuck, I can’t hold the phone, cover my mouth, and use the keys at once. “There’s a fire at Empire of Ink, the tattoo shop on Main Street.”
“The fire has already been reported ma’am,” she says in her calm, professional voice. “First responders are on their way.”
“I can’t get out,” I sob. “The back door is blocked.”
“You’re inside?” Some of the professionalism goes out of her voice. “Ma’am where exactly in the building are you?”
“I’m trying to get into the office, there’s a window there. But there’s so much smoke.” I nearly drop the keys. “I have to put the phone down,” I say. “To try and get this door open.”
“Do that, ma’am, but don’t hang up. Let me know when you’re in the office. I’ve already let the fire crew know where you are.”
I set the phone on the ground, suck in a breath through my shirt, then let it drop so I can use both hands and concentrate on getting the door open. I shout with relief when the lock pops open and grab the phone from the floor before going in and slamming the door shut behind me.
“I’m inside.”
“Shut the door,” she instructs. “Is there anything you can use to block under the door—that might help with the smoke.”
“Yeah, hang on.” I run to the closet and find a few of Linc’s extra jackets and some towels. I grab as many as I can and run back to shove them under the door. There’s smoke in the room but it isn’t overwhelming like the hallway. Next, I turn to the window and let out a whimper.
It’s so much higher than I remember it being. And small—will I even be able to fit through that?
“Ma’am, the fire crew will be there momentarily,” the operator says in my ear and I try to calm my racing heart.
It’s going to be okay. They’ll get to me.
But God, the fire in the front is so big already and I have no idea what had been shoved in front of the back door. Will they be able to get through?
My phone beeps with an incoming call and I look down to see Lawson’s name. “My boyfriend is calling,” I tell the operator. “I’m going to answer.”
“Ma’am, I’m instructing you not to do that. You need to stay on the line with me—”
“Fuck that,” I mutter, already hitting the accept button. I need to hear Lawson’s voice right now, need him to tell me that this is going to be okay.
“Lawson?”
“Nova.” He sounds panicked. “Tell me you’re at home.”
Tears come hot and heavy. Why hadn’t I stayed home?
Why hadn’t I waited until morning like he asked?
Now there’s a good chance I’m never going to see him again, that I’ll never be able to tell him how much I love him, that I’ll never see those beautiful dark eyes again, or his hands that I love, or hear his voice.
“Nova?”
I can barely get the words out. “I’m at the tattoo shop.”
“Fuck!”
So he knows about the fire then. Before I can ask how, he’s barking for someone to drive faster. “Where are you, baby? Tell me exactly where you are.”
“I’m in the office in the back of the shop,” I sob. “I thought maybe I could get out the window but it’s too high.” I hear a crash in the hallway, like the fire’s tearing the building down around me. Despite my best efforts, smoke is slowly filling the room. “Lawson, I can’t get out.”
“I’m almost there.” I can tell he’s struggling to keep his voice calm. “You just hang on for me, okay?”
“I’ll try.”
“Look around the room, Nova. See if there’s anything you can push by the window so you can get up there.”
I wipe at the tears that are streaming down my face and scan the room. “I think I can move the desk.”
“Do that. Put down the phone if you have to.” I hear another voice and then Lawson is talking again. “Sawyer just called the fire crew chief. They know exactly where you are in the building. They’ll be there soon. Now move the desk, baby. Put me on speaker so I can hear you.”
My hands are shaking so hard it’s difficult to press the buttons, but I manage to get the phone on speaker then go over to shove the desk.
It’s heavy, but it moves a few inches. I can do this—if only I could get some damn air in my lungs.
“There’s so much smoke, Lawson,” I tell him.
“I put towels under the door but it’s still getting in. ”
“Concentrate on what you’re doing. Get that desk moved, Nova.”
It feels like it takes forever. Horrible noises are coming from outside, things cracking, breaking, the fire alarm still going non-stop.
I’m pretty sure I hear sirens, too, and I try to hang onto the thought of help as I shove at the heavy desk.
Finally, it’s under the window. “I got it,” I call to Lawson. “I’m climbing up.”
“We’re turning on Main Street right now,” he tells me. “You’re going to be okay, Nova.”
But when I reach the window, I know it’s not true. I can see flames all over outside, licking at the building. Whatever they lit on fire back here is spreading. Worse, the window pane has been painted over, probably a dozen times. I use all my strength to pull it up and nothing happens.
I sink down so I’m huddled on the desk, coughing. So much smoke. I scramble for the phone and bring it to my mouth. “Lawson,” I rasp. “The window’s painted shut.”
“Hey,” he shouts. "You’re not giving up, Nova, do you hear me?”
“I can’t breathe.” My lungs are burning and I can’t stop coughing.
“Find something to break the window.” I can hear the panic in his voice. “Fuck, Sawyer, turn here. We want the alley at the back of the building.” Then he’s back to me. “Look around. Find something to break the glass.” I hear a car door slam. “I’m close Nova, okay? Just hang on.”
There’s too much smoke in the room, I can barely see, but still I do what he said. There has to be something in here I can use.
There’s shouting on the other end of the phone, Lawson swearing, everything is a blur of smoke and darkness and confusion, and still I can’t find anything.
“Lawson,” I call into the phone.
“I’m here, baby.” He sounds out of breath and there’s more shouting around him.
“I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t you fucking talk like that, Nova, I’m getting you out.”
“I love you so much.”
“Fuck, stop that right now. You hang on for me!”
I hear a thumping noise from the window but there’s too much smoke to see. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before.”
“Nova, I’m right here. Just stay awake for me, please.”
But it’s too hard. My lungs feel like they’re on fire and the smoke is making me feel fuzzy—or maybe that’s oxygen deprivation. Every time I blink it’s harder and harder to open my eyes.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper.
Distantly I hear the sound of breaking glass and someone shouting my name. Right before I pass out, I feel something cool and solid wrapping around me. The smell of rain and whiskey fights through the smoke to reach my nose. And then everything goes black.