Page 45 of Sparking Sara

My phone pings with a text.

Joelle: Sara is asking for you. I told her you were at work today. Do you want me to tell her you’re coming by tomorrow? I wasn’t sure now that Oliver is back.

Me: She’s talking?

Joelle: No.

Me: Then why do you think she’s asking for me?

Joelle: She seemed sad today, so I started asking her questions. When I asked her if she wanted you here, she nodded. When I asked her if she wanted Oliver here, she stared blankly at the wall.

Me: Wait, didn’t he show up today? He said he would sit with her this morning.

Joelle: He was here when I arrived. Said he sat with her all morning. He was quite charming. Still, I feel bad for him that Sara has no memory of their relationship. It’s got to be hard on him.

Me: Not as hard as it is on Sara.

Joelle: They want to move Sara to a rehabilitation facility tomorrow afternoon. I think she wants you here when they move her.

Me: I’ll be there. Do you think she’s ready?

Joelle: She can barely hold up her head, Denver. She still isn’t speaking. It’s scary.

Me: It is. But I guess we need to trust the doctors.

The alarm sounds and all units are called to respond to a motor vehicle accident. My heart thunders as I put my phone away and make my way to the rig. Bass puts the baby into the stroller, and I give Ivy a quick kiss on the cheek on my way by.

Steve gives me a look as we get into the truck. Someone always does. Someone always wonders if I’m going to freeze on the call. Those who know me, like Engine 319, tend to give me the jobs they know I can handle. Like crowd control until NYPD shows up. Or rigging the lines.

I used to be grateful for that, but now I think about what Brett said to me the other day.

“I want in on this one, Captain,” I yell into the front seat.

He raises his eyebrows at me. “You sure?”

I nod.

“What are you doing?” Bass asks.

I look out the window. “I’m going into tall fucking buildings,” I say.

“You are making absolutely no sense,” he says. “Were going to an MVA.”

“I know. But I need to do this. I’m never going to get over this—whatever it is—until I do.”

“I got your back,” Bass says.

As we pull up to the accident, I can see this one will be all hands on deck.

J.D. looks at me when I hop out of the rig. “Andrews, you and Briggs take the SUV, Duck and I will check out the red car.” He turns to Brett’s company. “Squad, check on the truck driver and see if you can pull the truck upright.”

Bass and I grab some gear and run over to the SUV that’s partially under the overturned truck. I take some deep breaths and hope I don’t see my parents when I look into the front seat. But it’s just my damn luck that the two people in the car look to be about the same age as my parents when they died. And blood, tangled metal, and shattered glass is everywhere.

I feel the bile rise up in my throat.

I close my eyes and breathe.

“You okay, man?” Bass asks, climbing up onto the hood so he can reach through the smashed windshield to check on the woman.

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