Page 99 of Wish You Were Mine

My stomach sank. Somehow, I’d hoped that Parks had been wrong, or that perhaps some of my teammates had been responsible for a prank call—although I should know better than to think them capable of that.

“Asher,” Summer breathed. “Oh, my God.”

Even from a distance, there was no escaping the heat of the fire. Fortunately, it seemed to be centered around the porch and the front door. I doubted it would spread much further. Especially not when help had arrived so quickly.

The fire crew were already unspooling the hose and directing the water at the house.

Parks strode over to us. “Is anyone inside?”

“No,” I said automatically, then froze. “Fuck. Cookie.”

“Your cat?” he clarified.

“Yeah. I shut her in this morning before I left, and I locked the cat flap.” Fuck, why had I done that? I’d wanted to stop her from going out into the cold, but I should have considered what a safety risk it was to trap her in there.

“We’ll see if we can find her,” Parks said, giving me what was probably supposed to be a reassuring nod before returning to his crew.

“That’s good, right?” Summer said, grabbing my arm. “Why do you look so worried?”

“They won’t risk themselves for a cat,” I explained. “It’s protocol. We’re not even supposed to risk ourselves for a person if the situation is dire.”

She blanched. “Is this dire?”

“No.” I shook my head, not taking my eyes off that burning door. Emotion clogged my throat. “But I don’t want to rely on them to save Cookie either.”

That fluffy demon meant more to me than I liked to admit, and it was my fault she was in danger. I couldn’t lose her like this.

Without pausing to ask Parks’s permission, I rushed past the fire engine and snatched up a fire retardant blanket. Someone shouted, but I raced around the side of the house, already fishing in my pocket for the key to the back door.

It briefly crossed my mind that opening the door would create a pressure change that could cause the fire to spread faster—or explode. I stopped. I couldn’t do anything that might endanger my friends. But then I heard scratching on the other side of the door. I knelt, and through the translucent plastic, Cookie looked at me with big, frightened eyes.

Damn. I couldn’t leave her.

Perhaps a small pressure change would be less dangerous. I didn’t have to open the door to get her out. A small hole would be enough for me to pull her free.

I bashed the door, hoping to scare Cookie into backing away a few feet, and then I bunched the flame retardant blanket around my fist, using it to protect my knuckles, and punched the cat flap. My knuckles throbbed on impact, but the cat flap didn’t break.

I stood and bashed the door again to keep Cookie at a distance. I swung my foot back and kicked the cat flap. The plastic snapped, creating an opening in the bottom half. Quickly, I dropped to my knees and yanked out the broken shards of plastic.

Once they were gone, I reached through and grabbed Cookie by the scruff of her neck. I dragged her through the opening and into my arms. She meowed plaintively and I buried my face in her fur, trembling all over.

“You’re okay, girl,” I breathed, nuzzling her. “You’re okay.”

Thank fucking God.

I carried her around the side of the house. Out the front, Summer hovered halfway up the drive, apparently as close to the fire as she was willing to get.

“You idiot!” she cried as I approached. “You scared the life out of me.”

A pang of empathy twisted my gut. If she’d been the one to run toward a burning building, I’d be freaking out too.

“I’m sorry.”

Her gaze dropped to Cookie. “She’s okay?”

“Seems to be.” The cat tried to pull away, but I held her tight. “Stay put. You’re not going anywhere until the fire is out.”

The door had crumbled, except for its timber frame, and only one corner of the building was still burning. Parks was supervising as two firefighters worked to subdue the flames, but then he turned toward me, and I could’ve sworn I felt the force of his glare through his helmet.

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