Page 19 of Burn for You

“I couldn’t get out,” I rasped. “The door—it was blocked. I couldn’t—”

Seth brushed my tangled, sooty hair away from my face with his gloved hand.

“Try not to talk, honey. Get some clean air into your lungs, that’s it.”

I clutched the mask, taking deep breaths. Seth stripped off his coat and draped it over my shoulders. The weight was comforting, and it immediately blocked most of the sweltering heat.

“Put your arm around my neck,” he said.

I did as Seth instructed. Then he hoisted me up as if I weighed nothing at all.

“I can walk,” I said, practically shouting to be heard through the mask and the crackle of the flames in my bedroom.

“I’m not letting you walk through a burning house in bare feet,” he countered.

Any further protest died on my lips as Seth carried me out of the house. I stared in horror and dismay at the wreckage of my brand new home, flames climbing the walls, scorching the floorboards, turning my beautiful kitchen to ashes. After living in an apartment in San Francisco, I had been so excited to own my first home.

When Seth and I emerged in the early morning light, an ambulance was waiting to greet us, along with a firetruck and two police cars. Two firefighters were on the hose, pelting the flames with a steady stream of water. A dozen people fromneighboring houses were scattered on their lawns in their bathrobes and pajamas, watching the fire.

Seth eased me down onto a gurney and removed the mask from my face. He touched my cheek gently despite the rough, heavy fabric of his gloves.

“Was there anyone else in the house with you before the fire started?” Seth asked.

I shook my head.

“No, I was alone. Why?”

He pressed his lips into a thin line. When Seth glanced away, I curled my fingers around his wrist with a light tug to get his attention.

“Why are you asking me that, Seth?”

His Adam’s apple bobbed.

“There was a chair wedged under the door handle of your bathroom.”

My blood went cold. Someone had set that fire and prevented me from escaping. I wrenched my gaze back to the house, to the smoke curling up into the air and the dying flames.

Seth turned aside and lifted his hand, waving Sheriff Beck over.

“We’ve got this covered,” he said softly to me. “The medics are going to take a look at you. Beck will get your statement. Stay here until we put this fire out, all right? Don’t go looking for answers right now. You inhaled a lot of smoke. Take it easy, okay?”

I nodded, even though I didn’t want him to leave my side. Seth lingered for a moment, his gaze roaming over me with a flicker of worry. Then he leaned in and pressed a kiss to my forehead. I swallowed around the lump in my throat.

This wasn’t helping my effort to remain unattached. In fact, I felt my heart melting right into his hands.

The medics placed an oxygen mask over my nose and mouth. When they began swabbing a few mild burns on my arms and legs, I hissed at the sting of it. I hadn’t even noticed I’d been burned to begin with.

I told Sheriff Beck everything, though it wasn’t much to go on. I hadn’t seen or heard anyone. To think that the arsonist was likely in my house while I slept was a chilling realization. Over the past week, I’d been so preoccupied with tightening security measures for the office and the properties we had for sale that I hadn’t bothered with my own home.

I huddled in the shroud of Seth’s jacket, watching the firefighters mill around the scene as they worked. Seth had borrowed a spare jacket, so it was harder to spot him. The other firefighters had their names on the back of their coats—Mueller, Anderson, Davies.

“You’re breathing still doesn’t sound good,” one medic said. “We need to take you to the hospital.”

“But I feel fine,” I said, even though my voice sounded like a croaking bullfrog.

The medic raised his eyebrows with a pointed look. I grumbled and reluctantly eased back on the gurney while I was loaded into the back of the ambulance.

A moment later, Seth jogged over and appeared at the door, squeezing my ankle.

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