Page 36 of Under Southern Stars
He’s half-inside the van through the passenger window, working on someone trapped inside. Even from the amateur footage, I can see the focused intensity in his movements.
“—paramedic risked his own safety to reach the trapped family,” the reporter continues. “With the vehicle unstable and leaking fuel—”
“Oh my God,” Madison breathes beside me.
The video shows Jack emerging from the van, carefully extracting a small child. He passes her to Rodriguez, thenimmediately dives back in. The van shifts visibly, metal groaning.
“Emergency crews report the paramedic refused to wait for extraction equipment, stating the patient’s condition was critical—”
A horrible grinding sound from the TV. The van lurches. People start shouting. The camera shakes as the person filming backs away.
But Jack doesn’t come out.
Ten seconds. Twenty. My heart hammers against my ribs.
Finally, he emerges, pulling an unconscious woman through the window just as firefighters arrive with support equipment. He and Rodriguez work on her right there on the asphalt, CPR compressions visible even in the grainy footage.
“The victim, identified as 34-year-old Margaret Le, was successfully resuscitated at the scene. She’s currently in critical but stable condition at Metro General, along with her three children, all of whom survived thanks to the quick actions of—”
I don’t hear the rest. Jack’s alive. Jack’s safe. Jack saved an entire family while I was sitting here eating fries and angsting over his text response time.
“Mom.” Madison’s hand covers mine. “You’re crushing your phone.”
I realize I’m gripping it hard enough to nearly crack the screen. “Sorry. I just—”
“You really like him.” It’s not a question.
“It’s complicated.”
“No,” she says, stealing another fry. “It’s really not.”
My phone rings. Unknown number.
“Hello?”
“Sophia?” Jack’s voice, exhausted but warm. “Sorry for the weird number. My phone’s somewhere in the back of the rig. Borrowed Rodriguez’s.”
“I saw the news.” My voice sounds steadier than I feel. “That was incredibly stupid and brave.”
He laughs, the sound rough. “Mostly stupid, according to the fire captain. How was the rest of the game?”
“Madison scored twice.” I move away from the counter, needing privacy. “Are you okay? Really okay?”
“Few bruises. Might’ve torn my uniform. Morrison’s going to kill me.” A pause. “I’m sorry I had to leave like that.”
“Don’t apologize for saving lives, Jack.”
“Your ex seemed thrilled.”
“My ex is an ass. I’m sorry about him.”
“Don’t apologize for things that aren’t your fault either.” His voice softens. “Still on for tomorrow?”
Tomorrow. Coffee. Our second date.
“Actually,” I say, making a decision, “what are you doing right now?”
“Sitting in the rig, just heading back to the station. Guess we’re covering until midnight. Why?”
