Page 76 of Burn Point

“Stay and hang out if you want. This might not take long, could just be a false alarm,” Nate called to me as he stepped into his boots, pulling on his gear, slipping the suspenders over his shoulders. I took a moment to appreciate the vision of him in his work gear.

“Do I lock up when I leave?” I asked.

“Just kick that door closed when you leave and go out the side door.” He climbed into the cab, looking down at me. “I’ll call you when I get back. I’m sorry, Skippy. I really wanted to eat you.”

I blushed to the roots of my hair.

“I mean, eat dinner with you,” he corrected as the other guys climbed in the truck, laughing at his mistake.

The engine roared to life, big tires squeaking on the painted concrete floor and sirens blaring as they pulled out of the bay. Once they were out of sight and earshot, an eerie silence stole over the empty station. Left behind, I tried to relax enough to allow my heart rate to return to normal. The minute or two that it had taken from the tones ringing out to when they’d rolled out of the station had been controlled chaos, and I needed a moment to calm down.

I went back into the dining area and cleaned up our not-dinner, placing Nate’s part in a container in the refrigerator. Radio traffic from the crew to dispatch kept me aware of what was happening. Listening to them call their location and status was fascinating.

I sat in the recliner waiting a bit longer, feeling out of place even though he’d said it was okay. Nate had said they might get cancelled. On the off chance that he did, I wanted to wait around for a few minutes. Until another crew arrived on the scene and confirmed that they did have smoke showing.

The kitchen needed some attention and they’d probably be tired when they got back, so I tidied the dirty dishes and wiped down the counters. The radio ran their conversations as I worked. Though I kind of felt like an eavesdropper, not understanding most of what they said, I was too invested to leave.

I stalled as long as I could. Eventually, I couldn’t rationalize hanging around any longer, so I grabbed my keys and headed out the side door to Nate’s truck.

“NFD…to command. We…man down…repeat…have a man down!” The broken transmission came across the radio as the door was closing, sending chills down my spine.

I reached out to grab the door, but it clicked shut on the rest of the conversation. The sheer panic in that voice. My stomach dropped to my feet and my heart stopped.

I tugged on the door frantically, slamming it against the metal frame. When it wouldn’t open, I dug my hands into my hair and scanned the parking lot.

Breathe. You don’t know that it’s him.

On wobbly legs I made it to Nate’s truck. I probably shouldn’t have driven, not with the way my hands shook. But I couldn’t sit there and wait, not knowing if it was Nate trapped in that fire, if he was the man down.

I dug my phone out of my back pocket and stared at it, mind racing. Could I call 911 and see if they would tell me anything? Oh, to be able to recall the address they’d responded to, then I could drive myself over there. Maybe if I just drove through town, I’d see the smoke. But I needed to get my shit together before I put anyone else in danger.

I unlocked my phone and went to my messages, ridiculously hoping for what? I didn’t know. The last message I got was from Leah. It clicked then. Of course—she would be able to ask Mike.

I dialed her number, and she picked up on the first ring.

“Jordan.” Her voice was high and tight, nothing like the soothing, chill yogi I needed her to be in that moment.

“Leah,” I managed, my voice cracking with fear that threatened to consume me. I took a deep breath, still trying to get my shit together.

“Mike heard the radio traffic. He’s on his way to the scene to see what he can find. Where are you?”

“I was at the station visiting Nate. I’m still here. I was just leaving when they called that a man was”—I swallowed against the tightness of my throat—“down.”

“Okay, I’m coming to get you. Stay where you are. I’ll be there in a minute.”

Stupidly, I nodded at my phone and ended the call. Nate was probably fine. I was overreacting, just like my mom did.

I walked into the house to find mom sitting on the couch, tears streaming down her face, crumpled tissue in hand.

“What’s wrong, Mom?” I said, my tone bored, as I dropped my bag by the door and grabbed the stack of mail off the table. My college acceptance letters should be coming in any day.

“Jordan, honey. Come here. We need to talk.”

“Mom, whatever it is, can it wait?” I flipped the envelope with my name and my number one college pick return address adorning the corner. I slid a finger under the flap to open it.

“Honey, something happened to your dad. There was an accident today…”

I zipped my finger across the envelope, slicing the dry skin at my knuckle. I snatched it back, sticking it in my mouth automatically. I pulled the letter out and read the first line of my acceptance before her words sank in.

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