Page 2 of Scorched

“I’m going to take your vitals.”

“Go for it,” Declan muttered.

A blood pressure cuff went around his arm and a pulse oximeter clamped over his finger. He heard some beeps as the machines got their results.

“Vitals look good, considering.”

Declan opened his eyes. Denton held up a penlight.

“Follow the light.”

He did as asked.

“Good. Where do you hurt? And don’t say you’re fine. You flew twenty feet.”

A corner of Declan’s mouth quirked. His people knew him well. “My ribs hurt.” He pointed to the left side of his chest. “And my left hip. It took the brunt of my landing.”

“Can you take off your coat so I can examine your chest?”

With a groan, he sat up. His chest was on fire. Broken ribs were just what he needed. He pulled his right arm out of his turncoat, then let the jacket slide off his left. Denton leaned forward and probed his ribcage. Declan bit back a grunt of pain as he hit a sore spot.

“You should probably get some x-rays. Just to make sure there aren’t any shards or dislocated breaks lurking that could puncture your lung. I’m pretty sure you broke at least two. There’s some crepitus around the sixth lateral rib, and you’re tender above and below that.”

He nodded. “I’ll get checked. Can I go, now?”

“So long as you promise not to go back into the fire. You need to man the radios now, sir.”

Seeing as he could barely lift his arm, wrangling a firehose under pressure was most definitely out. “I’ll behave.” He slid off the gurney. “I’m going to check on Sam.”

“I hope he’s okay. After what happened to his brother, it doesn’t seem right he’d get hurt badly, too.”

Declan agreed. Austin was just beginning to recover after being shot in the line of duty a few weeks ago. It was touch and go for several days. He’d lost a lot of blood and infection set in. The kid spent two weeks in the hospital before he was well enough to go home. He still had a ways to go, though, before he regained full function of his arm and shoulder.

Cradling his ribs, Declan stepped out of the ambulance and went looking for Sam, finding him in the next bus. He’d come to, but looked dazed.

“How’s he doing, Ericson?”

Kara Ericson, the female paramedic from earlier, glanced at him before turning her attention back to the IV line she was busy hooking up. “He’ll be okay. A little concussed and some contusions, but otherwise good. You both were lucky.”

“We all were.” He and Sam were the only firefighters close to the house when the fire flashed. If any of them had been inside when it happened, it would be a much different situation.

“Did you get checked?” she asked.

He nodded. “Broke a couple ribs. I’m all right.”

“Good. You want to ride with us to the hospital for x-rays?”

He shook his head. “No. I need to stay here and help coordinate.”

She gave him a sharp look.

He held up a hand, staving off the ass-chewing. “I’ll go after my shift, I swear.”

“Or if you start to feel short of breath. One of those ribs could shift and puncture a lung.”

“I’m aware.” He reached in and patted Sam’s boot. “Take care, buddy. I’ll check up on you later.”

Sam offered him a weak smile and nodded. Declan stepped back and closed the doors. A moment later, the ambulance pulled away. As he wandered over to Ladder Three to find Walters, he wished he’d asked Truesdale for some ibuprofen, at least. He’d have to check the firetruck. There was a bottle lurking somewhere. If not, he knew there was one in his office at the fire station.

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