Your Dad Is Mine

My ears rang like someone had set off a bomb inside my skull. The air was thick with smoke, a burnt chemical tang that clung to my throat and made it impossible to breathe properly. Screams tore through the air, people stumbling over each other like dominoes in a blind panic. My heart pounded so violently I thought it might burst.

I turned around in the chaos, disoriented. Then I felt a strong hand gripping my wrist.

"Come on," Mr Turner said, his face tight with tension. "Stay close to me Catherine."

I could barely hear him through the ringing in my ears, but I caught enough. Still, I shook my head. My eyes frantically scanned the crowd. "Stacey... she -"

"I'll make sure she's okay," he shouted through the screams, cutting me off. "I promise. But first, we need to get you out of here."

Something in the way he said it made me believe him. I took one last desperate look through the smoke and nodded. He didn't hesitate. With one arm still around me, he bulldozed through the crowd like a possessed man, pushing people aside, shouting orders, clearing a path.

We didn't stop until the chaos dulled behind us. Sirens were growing louder, slicing through the haze of panic. Mr. Turner turned to me, gripped my shoulders firmly.

"Catherine," he said again with his eyes searching mine. "You with me?"

I blinked a few times, nodded slowly. "Stacey..."

"I'll find her," he promised, softer this time. "As soon as the fire service gets here, help guide people. Anyone you see, send them to the trucks. Can you do that?"

I swallowed the lump in my throat and forced a nod. "Yes. I can."

He took off before I could say anything else.

When the fire truck screeched into view, I ran straight to the first officer, spitting out everything I knew, the layout, the estimated number of people, where I last saw smoke thickest, where I lost Stacey. Orders were barked and within minutes, there was structure in the madness.

I grabbed towels, water bottles, anything I could find. People were crying, coughing, bleeding. I handed out whatever I had, pressing cloths to heads, pouring water into open hands. Sweat rolled down my temples as I bent to help another girl when I saw them... Mr. Turner, with Stacey in his arms.

She was pale, clutching at him like her legs couldn't hold her weight. Blood streaked the side of her face.

"Stacey!" I shouted, running to them. "Oh my God... are you okay?"

Her dazed eyes found mine. "Just... lightheaded. I think I hit my head."

Tears blurred my vision. I reached for her but had to step back as medics swarmed her, lifting her gently onto a stretcher. Mr. Turner rested a hand on my shoulder.

"They're taking care of her," he said. "She'll be fine."

I couldn't speak. I wrapped my arms around myself and just nodded. The firefighters got the flames under control quickly after that. Mr. Turner came up beside me once again, this time with a tired but soft smile.

"You did good, Catherine. Real good."

I didn't answer. I couldn't.

He pressed a cold water bottle into my hand. "Your friend will be okay. You did everything you could."

I took it, finally managing a watery smile. "Thank you."

Four long hours later, most of the square was cleared out. Injured people had been taken to hospitals, and Stacey's sister had arrived in a flood of tears, hugging me and sobbing thank-yous before helping Stacey into the car.

The adrenaline was fading. All that was left was the weight in my limbs and a dull ache behind my eyes. I was just starting to consider how I'd get home when Mr. Turner reappeared at my side.

"Come on," he said quietly. "I'll give you a ride."

I wanted to say no. I should've said no. But my body had other plans. I nodded, too tired to argue. The moment I stepped into his car, I regretted it.

The air inside was warm and smelled like him... clean, woodsy, a hint of spice that made my stomach flutter. I hugged myself tightly, trying not to think about anything except the dark streets outside the window.

He slid in beside me and started the engine. "The media's going to have a field day tomorrow."

I winced. "Right. I hadn't even thought about that."

"Might actually be good for the campaign," he added after a moment. "A candidate on the ground. Present. Helping."

I nodded slowly. "It'll look good. Even if it was awful."

He glanced over. "I'm not worried. I've got you."

My heart stuttered. He meant the campaign. Obviously. I tried to convince myself of that as I stared hard at my trembling hands in my lap.

But the tension in the car was growing thick and every breath I took felt like a mistake. Every shift he made in the seat sent heat running across my skin. I needed to get out.

Finally, we pulled up to my house. I reached for the door handle with shaking fingers. Why were my hands trembling this much? But I couldn't get it open. It was stuck, or maybe I was just too exhausted and wired to function. Before I could try again, Mr. Turner reached across, his arm brushing mine. My breath caught in my throat.

He opened the door for me but paused. Our eyes locked. And stayed that way. His gaze flickered to my lips and they parted unconsciously. And like a fool, I licked my lips. Heat flared up my spine. His eyes darkened.

Move, Catherine. Say something. Anything.

But I just sat there.

He leaned in, slowly, giving me every chance to stop him. But as the horny messed girl I was, I didn't. My eyes fluttered shut the second his lips grazed mine.

It was barely a kiss at first. A whisper. A question. Almost like he was asking for permission and I gave him the answer... tilting my head, opening my mouth and he took over. His hand cupped the back of my neck, deepening the kiss with a hunger that sent warm straight to my core.

I moaned softly, fingers curling into the collar of his shirt. His other hand tangled in my hair as he pulled me closer. It wasn't just a kiss. It was a dam breaking. Weeks maybe months of lingering looks, of "almost" moments and "maybe" touches. It all erupted in that kiss, hot and desperate and inevitable.

But the second it ended, the world came crashing back.

I gasped and jerked away like I'd touched a live wire. "I... I'm sorry. I didn't mean-"

I didn't wait for a reply. I flung open the door and ran inside. My heart pounded so hard I thought it might knock the walls down from the inside.

Once the door slammed shut behind me, I collapsed against it.

What the hell did I just do?