Kyle reaches us. “Bex,” he says. “You need to have someone come in and inspect the damage done to the building. Don’t go upstairs, it’s not safe.” “He’s right,” I tell her, even though I’m reluctant to side with Kyle on anything. I don’t want her breathing in this shitty air or trying to see the apartment and getting hurt. She steps forward anyway, touching the scorched banister. My hand twitches in hers. If I need to haul her out of the building to keep her from hurting herself, I will, but I’d much rather it not come to that.
