He peeled Gianna from his front and forced her into Rosetta’s arms. A firefighter stepped between them, throwing up a new barrier, leaving Mickey on one side and Benito’s family on the other. Another crash sounded from the building, but he couldn’t look.
He couldn’t watch Benito die.
I can’t fucking breathe.
Mickey turned away from Rosetta and Gianna and moved mechanically along the line of shellshocked residents pressed against the barrier, doing his job. He checked in with the DOSHA households, double checking against his mental list, but with every step, the pain in his chest grew. How is this happening? He pinched himself hard, praying it would wake him. But nothing changed. The nightmare remained. His worlds had collided in the very worst way. The only man he’d ever fallen for was trapped in a burning building, and Mickey would probably have to tell his twelve-year-old sister that he wasn’t coming back.
Mr Morris was still MIA too. Mickey had his son’s number in his phone, but he couldn’t bring himself to make that call either. How did you tell someone their loved one was dead?
“Mickey!” Gianna’s shriek pierced the air again.
Mickey spun back to her. “Gianna—”
She cut him off, pointing wildly behind him. “Look! Someone came out!”
Mickey turned slowly, bracing himself for the worst, and at first it seemed nothing had changed. Thirty firefighters stood between him and the door. He couldn’t see a thing. And he didn’t want to. I fucking love him too much to see his fucking body.
The realisation, though it wasn’t new, hit Mickey like a sledgehammer. He forced himself forward on ten-ton legs. He shouldered his way closer to the door. Behind him, Gianna screamed his name over and over, and then Benito’s too, and the desolation in her broken voice cut Mickey in two. She can’t lose him. She wouldn’t survive it, and neither would Mickey.
Grief had already laid roots in his gut. They bloomed with every step he took, gnarled branches that wrapped around every fibre in his body, weighing him down more than addiction ever had and ever would. But just when he thought he might drown and this pain would swallow him whole for good, the crowd of firefighters parted, revealing a cluster of soot-smeared survivors.
An old lady was carried straight into an ambulance. Mr Morris limped of his own volition to a waiting paramedic, and behind him stood a policeman, grim faced and clutching a giant orange cat.
22
The world stopped turning. There were no blue lights and smoke. There was no towering inferno.
Just a limping old man and a cat with no owner.
No. A scream built in Mickey’s throat. I have to find him. He started forward. Stopped again as his legs wobbled, threatening to give out. The pain in his chest ramped up, eroding every scrap of muscle and bone in his body, and for a devastating moment, he thought he might puke.
Then more movement caught his tear-blurred eyes. The policeman turned, handing the cat to someone else. To someone tall, with dark hair, strong shoulders, and once-spotless white trainers that were now covered in soot and grime.
Benito.
Relief swayed Mickey on his feet. His hand flew to his chest, as if he could push the terror of thinking Benito was dead back where it had come from and keep it locked up forever.
He stared at Benito, and Benito stared right back.
Then reality set in. Emergency workers rushed Benito, taking the cat and leading him away, and Mickey went back to work.
Isha arrived. “Tell me what you need.”
Distracted, Mickey watched a paramedic hold an oxygen mask over Benito’s face and check his blood pressure. “What?”
“Where are we at?” Isha barked. “Everyone’s out, right? No serious injuries?”
“I don’t know.” Mickey pointed to where Benito and Mr Morris were being checked over. “They were the last out, with an old girl from one of the council properties. She’s in the ambulance.”
“How did she look?”
“I—fuck, I don’t know. I didn’t take it in.”
Isha clapped Mickey’s shoulder. “You’re here. That’s what matters. Right, we need to get our residents housed for the night, then work on helping the council tenants if no one shows up for them until the morning.”
Mickey nodded, still eyeing Benito. Bar the filth staining his skin, he looked all right, but he’d been inside a long time. So much smoke. What about his lungs? What about—
“Mickey. Are you with me?”
Mickey reeled himself in and focused on Isha. “I’m here.”
“Good. Let’s get to work and get these people somewhere warm.”
They split the list in half. Rosetta was on Isha’s list, and Mickey didn’t argue. He glued his phone to his ear and moved mountains to get his residents housed overnight in nearby hotels while he worked on alternative accommodation moving forward.
He checked back on Benito approximately every six seconds but somehow still missed the paramedic packing up and walking away, leaving Benito alone in the chaos of the night.
Benito rubbed his chest and glanced at the sky, handsome face twisted in an expression Mickey didn’t recognise. He ached to comfort him, but Gianna was there before Mickey could take another breath, gripping a cat box and hugging her brother so fiercely Mickey almost smiled. Then his gaze fell on Rosetta. Isha was with her, his face patient as she waved her arms in distress.
Fuck. Mickey wrapped up his phone call and hurried to her side. “What’s the matter?”
“I don’t want to go to a hotel,” she said. “I just—I can’t. All those people, and—”
“You don’t have to, Mum.” Benito appeared in Mickey’s peripheral, a shadow at first, then real flesh and bone. “Come home with me—”
“Shouldn’t you be on oxygen or something?” Mickey broke in.
“He refused.” Gianna slipped her small hand into Benito’s. “Can we really stay with you, Beni?”
Benito ignored Mickey and gave Gianna a smile so sweet Mickey wanted to weep. “Of course.”
“Are you sure that’s feasible?” Isha scanned his list. “We’ll work around the clock to secure new accommodation for you, but it could be a few days. A week, maybe.”
“It’s fine—” Benito coughed and reached around Isha for Rosetta. “They can stay with me as long as it takes.”
Isha nodded. “Okay. Take them home then. Did anyone’s phone make it out of the building? We’ll need a way for Mickey to contact you in the morning.”
“I have mine,” Benito said. “Mickey has my number.”
Mickey opened his mouth to confirm it, but Benito was already walking away, towing Rosetta, Gianna, and the cat to his car.
He drove away without looking at Mickey.
And took Mickey’s heart with him.
Isha watched them go, then turned his shrewd gaze to Mickey. “Well, that was interesting.”
“Hmm?”
Isha’s jaw ticked with faint amusement. “The vibe between you two. Something you want to tell me?”
“About what?”
“About why this household had you so torn up. And why you’re so desperate to walk away from this block. Is there something between you and the son?”