Page 164 of Fire Fight
There was a time, back before Chief Madden saved my life, before I got my shit together and found the fire service, that Kelly’s words would’ve hit home. They would’ve burrowed their way under my skin and bred like maggots, crawling into all of my darkest parts and festering. Back then, I’d believed they were true, that maybe the world—especially my family—would be better off without dealing with my constant fuckups.
But I’d healed and grown a lot in the intervening years, and I knew without a doubt there was nothing I could do that would make my family stop loving me. And I reminded myself that I went to work every day and saved lives—like Aspen’s.
And my girl? The woman who had blown into town and flipped my entire life on its head in the best possible way…I knew she’d never forgive me if I died at the hands of the same sicko she’d survived.
A look over my shoulder confirmed my brothers had retreated, and I hoped they were backed up far enough to be out of the blast zone. The liquid gasoline combined with the unlit stove burners was going to blow the roof off this place—literally—the second a flame came near any of it.
As slowly as possible, I started taking steps backward in the direction of the door. Kelly watched me curiously, flipping the lid of the lighter open and closed. When the cool night air from the open doorway caressed my back, I spoke.
“I think the only one dying tonight will be you.”
As I turned and booked it out into the night, Kelly screamed in frustration, and the ignition switch on the lighter echoed in the space between us. The woman clearly didn’t give a fuck about surviving this anymore, not when surviving meant spending the rest of her miserable existence in prison. She just wanted to take me out in the process.
No fucking way was I letting that happen. For my mom, my brothers and sister, forAspen, I had tolive.
I raced outside, my head snapping up as someone shouted my name.
Even in the dark and across what had to be a couple hundred feet through a copse of trees, I recognized my girl immediately. I slightly corrected course, making for her. I knew everything would be okay if I could reach her…
Aboomshook me to my very core.
My ears hollowed out, all sound suddenly vacuumed from the world.
Suddenly, I was flying, then landing in a heap. Sharp, unending pain bloomed across my entire body.
And then, blissfully, I was aware of nothing at all.
forty-four
. . .
ASPEN
Screaminghis name had accomplished absolutely nothing as Crew raced from the cabin before the explosion.
The blast still tossed him through the air like a rag doll. As soon as the air rushed past where I stood, ripping at my hair and clothes, hot and dry, I rushed for him. He wasn’t moving, his pulse was weak and thready, and his entire face was covered in blood from a wide gash across his forehead.
But he was alive—for the time being.
I refused to leave his side as paramedics rolled in. Lane must’ve called them ahead of time, and they arrived not a moment too soon. Sutton Rausch’s partner, some twit whose name I didn’t bother to learn, tried to shove me out of the way, and I nearly decked him. Sutton calmed everyone down and allowed me to stay with Crew while she worked on him in the back as we headed to the hospital. I was far from next of kin, but none of the brothers protested when I climbed up into the ambulance.
As Sutton checked his vitals, she spoke with me, keeping me updated on what exactly she was doing and why.
“Due to the fact that he hasn’t regained consciousness withprodding, we’re taking him to Boise,” she said, almost conversationally. “That cut in his head is pretty nasty, and palpating the rest of his skull revealed a pretty gnarly bump on the back. Though his pupils are responsive, I made the call to take him to the city where there’s a legitimate trauma center. We’re going to get him the best care possible, okay?”
I could only nod, words eluding me as she continued to work on him. First, she bandaged his head, though the white gauze was soaked with a red splotch in minutes. She slipped an oxygen mask over his face and hooked him up to an IV.
Still, Crew remained unconscious, and I continued to silently cry.
I couldn’t lose him. I simply wouldn’t survive it.
As we pulled up to the emergency entrance, Sutton’s partner—Thomas, I heard someone say—came around back to help unload Crew. Doctors and nurses swarmed the gurney, and before she got out, Sutton paused to squeeze my hand.
“He’s going to be okay.”
I nodded, giving her a wobbly smile, but I wasn’t sure I believed her.
Numbly, I shuffled inside behind them, not paying any attention to where I was going, and a woman in scrubs stopped me as I tried to follow past the doors to the trauma bays.
