Page 46 of My Off-limits Firefighter Next Door
His face turned dark and he looked angry. His voice was taut. “I saw the telltale scorch patterns and residue from an accelerant on the side closest to my house—clear signs of intentional fire-setting. I’m not saying he was hoping mine would catch, too.
I think he did it on that side because the other side is very exposed to your neighbor on that side. We have the bushes between us but you two have a short five foot wooden fence.”
I listened, nodding when appropriate.
“I talked to Max, the fire Chief, about it and he mentioned it before I said anything to him. So I’m sure they notified thepolice. I guess I’m a little surprised they aren’t here yet.” He pulled his phone from his pocket and stared at it.
“Marcus should be here soon. My parents were delighted to hear they got to keep Alana for a few more days. They say she’s the sweetest child.”
I laughed. “I wish I could claim credit for that but she’s just naturally that way. I consider her as God’s gift to me. I’m just glad she’s safe. If he started the fire on that side of the house...”
I stopped when realization hit me. I narrowed my eyes, sliding them to Jackson. It looked like he understood what I was thinking before I said anything.
“Yeah, I thought of that, too,” he said. “That’s the side Alana’s bedroom is on. Did he know that?”
Chills erupted all over my body. If she’d been there, she would possibly have died. There was a very, very good chance of it. My shock turned quickly to rage and then I felt numb. I didn’t know whether he knew that was under Alana’s bedroom or not.
“I... I don’t know if he knew. I... I can’t imagine anyone... wanting to... to kill their little... little girl... especially a sweet girl like my Alana!”
I could barely get the words out. My breath was caught in my throat as tears forced their way to the surface. I couldn’t have stopped them no matter what I did. I leaned forward in the bed, covering my face with my hands, sobbing.
Images of flames swallowing Alana’s princess bed and tiny tent flashed through my mind, tightening my chest with terror.
The sobs came harder, making my shoulders shake violently.
“Hey now, hey, you need to calm down. Your daughter is safe and that’s because you took precaution. You sacrificed a night with your precious baby girl so she would be safe, not even knowing something like this would happen.”
“Listen,” Jackson said gently, his voice steady but firm, “you have every right to be angry. If Roger did this—and it’s lookinglike he did—there’s no excuse for what he’s done. The fact that Alana wasn’t there is a miracle, not anything he can take credit for.”
I clenched my fists, my nails digging into my palms. “But if she had been there—”
“She wasn’t,” he interrupted softly but firmly, his gaze locking onto mine. “That’s what matters right now. She’s safe because you trusted your instincts and made the right call. I know it’s hard to think about anything else, but you kept her safe, Savannah. You.”
His words sank in slowly, wrapping around my fury like a blanket against a storm. The rage didn’t disappear, but his reassurances helped me breathe again.
Jackson leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Let me worry about figuring out Roger’s intent. You focus on healing—for Alana’s sake. She’s going to need you strong for whatever comes next.”
He patted my hand just as his phone started ringing, he pulled it out of his back pocket and read the message that had come through.
“It’s Marcus. He wants me to meet him at my house. He’s over there now accessing the damage to yours.” Jackson looked at me. “You want me to check and see how long they plan to keep you in here?”
I gave him a nod, saying, “Please, if you wouldn’t mind.”
Chapter Twenty
Jackson
I hopped to my feet and swiped flamboyantly at the curtain, pretending I couldn’t find the split. Savannah’s hoarse laugh stopped me mid-gesture, and I immediately toned it down, not wanting her to strain herself.
I glanced back with a playful wink before leaving her sectioned-off hospital room. The nurses’ station curved in a wide half-circle, and I approached a woman intently focused on her monitor.
“Excuse me,” I said, hesitating. I hated interrupting people while they worked.
Her stern expression softened as she looked up, her attention shifting to me. “Yes? How can I help you?”
“I just wanted to check when my girlfriend, Savannah Gilson, is supposed to be discharged. She’s in Room 263.”
She raised an eyebrow before turning her attention back to the screen. “Let me check.” Her fingers clicked methodically on the keyboard as she scrolled through the notes. “Savannah Gilson…smoke inhalation… stable for discharge in a few hours. She’s just under observation now.”
