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The atmosphere was vastly different from the last time we’d made s’mores. With James and Susan’s family, it had been so lighthearted and fun. I could tell my parents were doing their best to make everyone feel welcome, but it was falling flat. So flat.
It didn’t help that this place was filled with memories of Rob. Normally, I welcomed any place that reminded me of him, but this was too much today. If he was there, he would be in our corner, cheering us on and standing up to our parents. But he wasn’t there, and every spot that reminded me of him also reminded me of that fact.
I looked at Bash, who was frowning, no doubt caught in his own storm of memories.
“Emily!” Ava’s panicked voice cut through my thoughts and I suddenly realized my hand was hot. Like really hot.
“Drop the stick,” Mac ordered.
I was sucked out of my memories so fast my head spun. My hand was burning. The blistering heat finally caught up to my brain. I dropped the roasting stick, hissing from the searing pain.
Bash jumped out of his chair and cradled my hand. “We need to get the first aid kit—”
“Where is it?” Mac asked.
“Under the sink,” Alicia said.
“On it.” Mac jogged away, but I wanted him to come back.
I was hurting, and I wanted both of them.
“Mac?”
“He’s getting the first aid kit. Okay, Em?” Bash’s soothing voice helped. If he was calm, I could be calm.
It hurt so badly, though.
Mac was back so fast, his cheeks were red, and he was slightly out of breath.
Bash looked up at him through his thick eyelashes and mouthed, “Thank you.”
“Here’s some ice, Pink.” He wrapped the coldest thing I’d ever felt around my palm and I winced. “I know. It doesn’t feel good, but it’s going to be okay. We’ve got you.”
I nodded and tried to slow my breathing. I trusted them with my whole life. A minor burn was nothing, even if it didn’t feel minor.
“Do you need help?” my mother asked.
“No. They’ve got me,” I muttered.
She put her hands up and sat back down.
After the ice took some of the heat out, Bash applied burn cream and kissed the—not burned—back of my hand. “Want to stay out here or go to our room?”
Aware of everyone’s eyes on me, I leaned close to him and lowered my voice. “The room, please.”
Chapter Eighteen
Mac
Bardot and I got Em back in our room, probably handling her a little more delicately than necessary, but shit. I didn’t like seeing her hurt. If I could protect her every second of every day, I’d give up everything else in my life and just do that.
“Are you doing okay?” I searched her face, wondering if we should get her to the doctor or something.
She groaned and studied her hand. “Yeah, it was awkward out there and I guess this was a good excuse to get away from them.”
I breathed a sigh of relief. Seeing her get burned was maximum-level stressful and when she wanted to retreat to the house, I was worried it was worse than she was letting on.
“I didn’t end up making a s’more.” Em sighed and leaned against the bedframe. “It’s not even that big of a burn—”
