Page 24 of Fake Fiancée for the Firefighter Next Door

The acrid stench of smoke flooded my senses. I could feel the searing heat radiating from the flames, even at a distance. My fingers clenched the brushes and tubes of oil paint, white-knuckled, as my mind raced with terrifying possibilities. Where was he? Was he hurt?

My throat constricted with fear. What if he had been directly in the path of that shattering blast? The rational part of my mind tried to cling to hope—Dylan was strong, experienced, a firefighter trained for perilous rescues like this. But my heart pounded with primal terror for his safety, the possibilities of tragedy playing out vividly in my imagination.

I craned my neck, squinting against the smoke that obscured my view. Please, please let him emerge unscathed. But the seconds stretched endlessly without seeing Dylan or the trapped man. The firefighters redoubled their efforts, directing more jets toward the flames. But the fire only grew, fueled by the sea breeze that whipped across the cliff side.

My eyes watered from the smoke, blurring my vision. I blinked hard, refusing to look away, willing some glimpse of Dylan to emerge from the haze. I replayed our last phone call in my mind—his voice steady yet laced with emotion. My name on his lips. The concern for my safety even as he raced into danger. It couldn’t end like this. We needed more time. Time to unravel the tangled threads between us, to discover what lay beneath the façade.

The distant wail of more sirens split the air. Reinforcements arrived, though too late to stop the ferocious blaze now consuming the lighthouse’s peak. The firefighters’ voices rang out urgently, commanding over the roar and crackle of hungry flames. An organized battle against chaos. But all I could do was watch and pray for Dylan’s safety with every fiber of mybeing. The seconds crawled by, each feeling like an eternity. Fear coursed through every vein as smoke continued to fill the summer sky.

“Dylan!” I cried out helplessly, my voice drowned by the chaos. What if he had been caught in the blast? Fear gripped my chest, making it hard to breathe.

I paced along the rocky shoreline, my feet crunching on loose gravel as my mind raced faster than my frantic steps.

Dylan’s call just before the fire started plagued my thoughts. Had our pretend engagement distracted him, thrown him off his game even more? Guilt gnawed at my core as I replayed his words—the underlying emotion in his voice when he’d said he just wanted to hear me before racing into danger. I should have stopped him then and told him to keep his focus where it truly mattered: on the lives he was meant to save.

But I’d let the act go on, allowed myself to get caught up in the fantasy we’d created. And now Dylan was up there, swallowed by smoke, his life on the line. Bile rose in my throat as the possibilities flashed through my mind on a tortuous loop. What if he’d been injured in the blast? What if the smoke had overwhelmed him? What if... No. I couldn’t go there or accept a reality where Dylan didn’t make it out?

My hands trembled as I glanced back up at the lighthouse, its peak now obscured by roiling smoke plumes. The firefighters below shouted directions while aiming water at the flames that appeared and disappeared like demons in the haze. But there was still no sign of Dylan or the man he’d gone to rescue.

I had to do something - anything - to help. But I was powerless here on the ground. All I could do was pray that Dylan’s intensive training and quick instincts had protected him, that any feelings stirred up by our charade hadn’t dulled his razor-sharp focus.

A piercing siren announced the arrival of yet another fire truck. However, I knew no reinforcement could assuage the fear coursing through my veins. I needed to see Dylan emerge from that smoke, whole and unharmed. I needed reassurance that my foolish game hadn’t risked his life. Because a reality without his playful smile and kind eyes was too unbearable to comprehend.

The sound of footsteps on gravel interrupted my frantic thoughts. I whirled around to see Zoe rushing toward me; her face etched with worry.

“Avery! Thank god, I was so scared when I heard about the fire.” She pulled me into a fierce hug. “Have they said anything about Dylan? Was he...” Her voice trailed off, unable to give voice to the terrifying possibilities.

I quickly shook my head, clinging to fragile hope. “I don’t know. There’s no update yet. He went up on the ladder into the smoke, but then there was an explosion.” My voice broke on the last word.

Zoe tightened her hold on me. “Hey, it’s going to be okay. Dylan is so skilled at his job, he knows how to handle situations like this.” But beneath her reassuring tone, I could hear traces of her doubt and fear.

I wanted so badly to believe Zoe’s words of comfort. But the image of Dylan being swallowed by smoke moments after our phone call haunted me. I should have made him promise to be extra careful, to push aside all distractions and focus only on the rescue. Instead, I’d let him go with the fantasy still clouding our reality.

The wail of an EMS unit siren split the air, sending a fresh wave of panic through my chest. I broke from Zoe’s embrace and whirled to face the lighthouse again. A glimpse of red through the haze sent my pulse racing. The unit’s flashing lights streaked the smoke with color as it maneuvered into position. My heartstuttered. Were they bringing it closer because the worst had happened?

I squeezed my eyes shut, hot tears escaping down my cheeks. But I couldn’t block out the image of Dylan disappearing into the black smoke, the sound of his voice still echoing in my mind. Please, I begged silently. Please bring him back to me.

And then, movement. Two silhouettes emerged from the haze. Relief flooded through me at the sight of Dylan supporting the weakened man he had bravely ascended to rescue. Inch by painstaking inch, he guided the survivor down the extended ladder’s rungs. Reaching the bottom, Dylan helped the coughing man over to the paramedics before pulling off his helmet and mask, his face streaked with soot. Our eyes met across the gravel driveway and I saw my relief reflected in his expression.

Before I could stop myself, I was running, colliding with Dylan in a fierce embrace. “You scared me to death!” Even as my arms squeezed him tighter, I scolded, reassuring myself that he was real and safe. Dylan let out a tired chuckle, returning my hug with equal intensity.

“Just another day on the job, Aves,” he replied weakly, his voice bearing the heaviness of the day’s events. The lighthouse, now cloaked in a mist of water and foam, was silhouetted against the sky, spared from destruction thanks to the relentless efforts of Ethan and the team. As the last tendrils of smoke vanquished, I felt Dylan’s racing heartbeat calm against my cheek. We stood locked in each other’s arms, enveloped in the aftermath’s chaos - firefighters rolling up hoses with satisfaction, paramedics comforting the survivor, and the fire chief nodding affirmatively as reports of the blaze being successfully extinguished reached him. At that moment, surrounded by the buzz of activity, it seemed as though Dylan and I stood alone in a still pocket of time.

“Hey lovebirds, get a room!” The playful shout from Ethan broke the spell. We pulled apart, and both flushed. Dylan shot Ethan a teasing glare before turning back to me.

“Let me wrap things up here and then I’ll come see you at home later, okay Aves?” Dylan said, giving my hand a grateful squeeze before releasing it. I nodded, reaching up to gently brush away an ash smudge that was streaked across his cheek.

As I reluctantly walked away, leaving Dylan to consult with the fire chief about the successful rescue operation, I couldn’t resist glancing back over my shoulder for one last glimpse of him. He stood tall and proud, his shoulders squared back and his head held high like the brave firefighter he was. The setting sun cast an almost heroic golden glow across his profile. My heart swelled with pride and admiration for this man who put his life on the line for others daily.

I knew Dylan would downplay his vital role, insisting he was just doing his job. But to me and the survivor he rescued, he was so much more. A guardian angel in heavy gear. When he briefly met my gaze, I offered him a little wave, his brilliant green eyes crinkling at the corners as he flashed me a crooked smile. I sighed, already longing for the moment he would visit later, my brave firefighter.

***

Back at my studio, I couldn’t stop thinking about Dylan and how close he had come to serious injury or worse, during the lighthouse fire. My heart had nearly stopped when I saw that explosion and the flames raging around him right before he emerged with the injured man. I had never felt more relieved than when he came stumbling out of the smoke, slightly singed but still whole.

When he texted me that afternoon to let me know he was unhurt other than for a few bruises, I felt like I could finally breathe again. I immediately told him to come over so I could check on him myself. I anxiously paced around the house until I heard his truck pull up outside.

The second I opened the door, I pulled him into a long, tight hug, just reassuring myself that he was there and okay. I could smell the lingering scent of smoke on him, even though he said he’d showered and changed at the station. It somehow made the reality of what he had just gone through even more vivid.

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