Unbreakable - A Beautiful Lie · (Roswell Fanfiction) · √

THIRTEEN

Call my dad.

I shivered. The prospect of speaking to Mr. Evans - especially to inform him that his unconscious son was draped across my lap - was pushing my anxiety to a whole new level.

But it didn't take me long to realize that my concern for whatever had happened to Max greatly overshadowed my fears of speaking to his father.

"Max?" I whispered, trying to jostle him back to awareness.

Please, wake up. Please, wake up.

But Max's body remained heavy, like dead weight, his arms draped around my hips and his head in my lap. A fierce protectiveness rushed through me. I had never seen Max so vulnerable, so helpless.

His breathing wasn't right. It was short and interrupted; irregular. He looked pale underneath the bright pink skin burns and he was trembling.

Phone.

I needed to get to his phone. Biting my bottom lip insecurely, I reached across Max's back and padded his back pockets, trying not to dwell on the fact that I was practically groping him.

Left. It was in his left pocket. I pushed my hand into his pocket, ignoring the flush in my cheeks, the acceleration of my heart beat, and fished out his cell phone.

Leaning back, I was relieved to see that his phone was not protected by a password and I quickly rushed through his contacts, trying my best not to pry at the odd combination of names that flickered past, until I found 'Dad'.

I pressed 'dial' and waited for him to pick up.

"Where are you?"

No hello. Just rough coldness.

"Mr. Evans? This is Liz Parker."

Silence. And then, "Ms. Parker." His voice had turned polite, warm almost. "What are you doing with my son's phone?"

"He needs your help," I replied and looked down at the head of dark hair on my lap. My free hand unconsciously threaded through the thickness of his hair. "He's unconscious. He got badly burnt in a fire."

I was just about to tell him where to find us when the call was disconnected.

"Mr. Evans?" I frowned, removing the phone from my ear to look at the screen and verify that Max's father had actually hung up on me.

I considered re-dialing, but I had a feeling that the call hadn't accidentally been disconnected.

I shiver raced through me as I raised my eyes towards the burning remnants of my house and I recalled the vision (or whatever) that had been in my head when Max had done...whatever he had done. Of Max walking up to the house and seeing me run into it.

Why would Max be wandering around the outsides of my house this early on a Sunday morning?

Coincidence? I think not.

And I had a feeling that Max's father didn't need an address to where Max could get burn injuries, because Mr. Evans already knew the only place in Roswell where there was a fire raging.

My whole body froze as a scary paranoid thought hit me. Had they caused the fire?

Far-off sirens, coming closer, interrupted my dark line of thinking and my attention was back to my house - or what was left of it. Max had dragged me pretty far away from it. The fire truck was the size of a pony from this distance.

The arrival of the fire truck also shifted my attention. I had been temporarily distracted by pain and whatever Max had done, but my focus was now fully back on track.