“I didn’t eat this morning because I was nauseous. And I didn’t end up eating with Chris at the restaurant. There’s nothing to throw up.”
“Maybe we need to get you an IV drip.”
“What will that do?” she asks.
“Get rid of the nausea so that you can eat and drink.”
Her eyes glaze over with desire. “Sounds like magic.” She takes a deep breath and stands tall. “Okay, I think I’m good now.”
“You’re sure?”
She takes a second to answer, but then she nods confidently. “I’m good.”
We get back in the car and finish the trip to her apartment. It’s only a minute away, but I drive extra slow so that I don’t aggravate her nausea.
“Thank you,” she says softly as I park just outside her building.
“For what?”
She glances at me. “For taking such good care of me.”
I give her a nod and get out of the car. By the time I reach the other side, she’s out, too. She stands on the curb and looks up at the building with a conflicted look on her face.
“This was my first grown-up apartment,” she murmurs. “It’s weird how attached you get to a place.”
“You felt safe here.”
“At one time,” she admits. Then she frowns. “That’s strange.”
“What?”
“Can you see that window up there? The small square one?” she asks, pointing up to the building. “I keep it open all the time. It leads into the bathroom, and I’ve never closed it. But it’s closed now.”
A weird sense of dread spreads through me. Jessa shrugs and moves towards the entrance.
“No,” I growl, grabbing her arm and pulling her back.
“What?”
“Don’t go in.”
“What do you mean?” she asks. “We came all this way to get my stuff.”
“If you didn’t close that window, someone else did.”
She freezes. “You think Marina—”
Her words are drowned out by an impossibly loud bang.
Jessa screams as I engulf her with my body and twist her away from the explosion.
The heat beats down on my back and smoke and debris fill the air. Still huddling over her, I sprint with Jessa across the street.
My ears are ringing, but I start to make out other sounds. Screams, cries, panic.
Then in the distance the sound of approaching sirens.
“Are you okay?” I ask Jessa.
But her gaze is fixed on her building. There’s smoke billowing from a single set of windows.
I don’t have to look to confirm my suspicions: Jessa’s apartment was the only target.