“Get down!” one of the others shouts, yanking hose from the side of the engine. “We’re going to knock down the flames below you!”
Linden is already unloading a ladder from the truck. “I’m going up!”
“Rumsey, no!” his coworker calls.
But Linden has the ladder extended to the base of my window.
The firefighter with the hose opens the nozzle, aiming water at the bottom of my house. I’m enveloped in a cloud of steam and hot gasses that singe my cheeks. I duck down, below the window. It’s so hot and I can’t breathe. Flames dance across my ceiling, the roar filling my ears.
“Meg!” Linden calls out.
I try to reach for him, but just breathing is taking all my energy.
“I’ve got you!” Linden barks out.
In one motion, I’m lifted from the floor. Hot, thick steam engulfs me as I’m rolled across strong arms. I’m moving, my body bouncing, the ladder crackling and flexing while the hiss of steam and the roar of the fire chase us. More sirens. The bark of orders and the clacking of equipment. Linden’s heavy breaths pulse like a metronome.
At the bottom of the ladder, the shouts get louder. There’s movement all around us—a sea of flashing colors.
“Russel,” I croak.
Linden frowns at me, then glances at the house. “He’s inside?”
I choke back a sob. “I think so.”
“Okay,” Linden says, and barks a series of commands. Then he hurries past the engine and the crews attacking the fire. I should look but I can’t bear it. I’m carried to the back of an ambulance. I start to cry because I don’t want to end up here again. I don’t want another ride in this box.
“It’s going to be okay, shortcake,” Linden says in a gentle voice.
My chest clogs with all the things I want to tell him. But my raw throat can’t form the words. It hurts too much. So I just cling to him until he lays me down on the gurney, his eyes glassy. “I’ll be with you as soon as I can. But you’re safe now.”
I want to beg him to stay, but Hutch is already sliding into my field of vision, his face tense with concern. The ambulance doors shut and the siren wails. Hutch braces against the side of the gurney as we start to move.
“Couldn’t get enough of me the first time, huh?” He cocks an eyebrow.
I try to laugh at this unexpected beat of humor, but only a raspy whisper comes out.
He shines his flashlight around my mouth, then slides an oxygen mask over my face, the clean air bathing my tongue.
“You may have some airway damage from smoke inhalation,”he says while gathering supplies for an IV. “Little poke,” he says next, followed by the pinch of the needle going in. The ambulance rocks as it accelerates.
Once the IV bag is hanging above me, I grab his arm.
He must see the distraught look on my face because he cocks his head. “I don’t want you to talk right now, okay?”
I search the space frantically for something to write with. As if reading my mind, he whips out a pen from his shirt pocket and clicks it open, then offers me a sticky note pad.
I scratch out my message. Hutch’s eyes darken when he reads it, but he gives me a solemn nod. “Okay. Let us handle this. Your job right now is to rest. And heal. Got that?”
Relief softens over me like a weighted quilt. I close my eyes.
Chapter Thirty-One
Two weeks later
“Let’s roll, birthday girl!”Linden calls out at the base of the stairs.
“Coming!” she shouts back.
