by A. J. Pine
He kissed her, tasting the salt of her tears on her lips.
“Maybe, after you’ve had more time, and they haven’t shipped me back to Texas…”
She said nothing after his pause, and he wouldn’t finish the rest. Because even though he was done pretending for her, maybe he could do it for himself. Maybe he could pretend for tonight that they hadn’t said those three words and then followed it up with a kiss that meant good-bye.
He pivoted toward the firehouse and strode up the walkway and inside to where he was met with the type of organized chaos he was meant to control. The chief saw him and nodded, so Carter started barking orders as he jogged into the engine room and suited up just in time to hop on.
All he had to prove was that he was bringing everyone on this crew home safe tonight. Then she’d see.
* * *
The street was filled with people by the time Ivy woke from her daze and turned around.
Patrons spilled out of Midtown Tavern, and she started to cross back that way. But then the engine’s siren roared as the truck pulled out of the firehouse, around the corner, and onto First Street, causing her to jump back onto the curb. She stared at Wyatt in the driver’s seat, then past him to where a pair of bright blue eyes stared back. Carter sat in the passenger seat, his jaw set and determined.
Her stomach roiled, and she thought she might be sick.
When the engine passed, she saw Casey coming toward her, her face pale.
“It’s Mrs. Davis’s house,” she said. “The whole thing is up in flames.”
“Oh my God,” Ivy said. “Is she still inside?”
Casey shook her head, and for a second Ivy was relieved. But then Casey said, “I don’t know. A neighbor called 911, not her.” She sniffled. “Jessie called. She’s on paramedic duty and said she’ll give us an update as soon as she can. This is really bad, Ives.”
Ivy hugged her friend. Mrs. Davis lived up the hill from Ivy’s childhood home. She was like a second mother to her and Casey. As far as they knew, the woman had never married. At least she never said she had. But she was always adopting rescues from Dr. Murphy, the vet just outside of town, which meant she was never really alone. Today that would mean three cats, two dogs, and a cockatoo.
“I told him not to go,” Ivy said, squeezing her friend tighter. “I told him I loved him and that he didn’t have to go.”
Casey stepped back, her hands still on Ivy’s shoulders. “Charlie was in an office building whose roof collapsed. This isn’t the same thing. It’s Meadow Valley. Tragedies don’t happen in Meadow Valley.”
“It’s a fire, Case. A fire brought that roof down and trapped my brother. Houses have roofs, too.” She was arguing like a petulant child. She knew she was. But Casey didn’t get it. No one seemed to get it. “He was my best friend, and he left us. Me, my parents, Allison, and the baby. He left us, and for what?”
Casey swiped her thumbs under Ivy’s eyes, then crossed her arms. “My sister’s on the scene of that very same fire. Am I scared? Hell yes, I’m scared. But there’s a reason Jessie’s there instead of me. She’s trained for this, and because of her training and Carter’s and the whole company’s, Mrs. Davis and her home have their best chance.”
Ivy swallowed. “I’m sorry. I’m the worst. I know you’re worried about Jessie, and—”
“How many people lived that day because Charlie did his job?” Casey interrupted.
Ivy shook her head.
“How many, Ives?”
Ivy squeezed her eyes shut. She’d thought leaving Boston and coming home to start fresh would mean that her grief stayed out east. But it followed her back to Meadow Valley and reared its ugly head without so much as a warning. And it made her forget how good Charlie was at his job—how safe his company was under Charlie’s leadership. How even when he lost his own life, he saved so many others.
“Seven,” Ivy finally said. “Seven civilians lived because Charlie was an expert firefighter.” But even experts can’t plan for every contingency. Charlie’s company got him out in time so that he didn’t have to die alone. His closest buddies rode with him in the ambulance and stayed with him at the hospital until the end. It was the one piece of the story she and her family held on to like a life raft. Charlie wasn’t alone.
The sound of sirens clamored in the air once more. This time it was the ambulance coming back from the opposite direction. It whizzed by them at a speed not normally seen on their quiet little street. Then it rounded the corner in the direction of the highway and likely the hospital.
Ivy’s stomach sank.
“It’s probably Mrs. Davis in there with my sister, but Jessie hasn’t sent any updates,” Casey said, and for the first time Ivy detected a note of panic in her friend’s voice. “There’s no way to really get any answers unless…”
“Unless we get as close as we can to Mrs. Davis’s house.”
Ivy didn’t think she had it in her to see the danger into which Carter had walked. But the not knowing felt even worse.
“Let’s go,” Ivy said.
They headed down the street, following the throng of curious folks who were likely trying to get close enough to marvel at the spectacle. One person who wasn’t following the herd, though, was the older woman standing on the front porch of the inn.
Pearl.
She locked eyes with Ivy and gave her a reassuring nod. “I wouldn’t have brought my nephew here if I didn’t know he was damned good at his job.” She stared wistfully down the street, and Ivy suddenly remembered about Pearl and the chief. Pearl had already lost one great love of her life. There was no way the universe would let that happen again or be so cruel as to take her nephew, too. That’s what Ivy hoped and what she guessed gave Pearl her stoic strength.
“I’ll text you when we get word about any of them,” Ivy said.
Pearl nodded again, and Ivy and Casey kept on.
Ivy’s heart thudded in time with the rhythm of her feet pounding the concrete. But all she could think about was what Carter had said about life-and-death situations and needing the trust of your team.
Maybe he was good at his job, but who had his back when there was a list of signatures who wanted to send him packing? And how could she let him go, thinking that he couldn’t rely on her?
She started walking faster until she was in a slow jog and then close to a sprint.
She had Carter Bowen’s back. If no one else did, it had to be her. Because though she was terrified for him, she also loved him. He needed to know he wasn’t alone in this. She would be there. No matter what.
It was only minutes before she reached the blockade in front of Mrs. Davis’s house, but it felt like hours.
“Hey!” Casey called. And Ivy turned around to see her friend halfway up the hill, her hands on her knees as she struggled to catch her breath. “What the hell was that, Flo Jo?” She lumbered the rest of the way until she made it to Ivy’s side. Casey slung her hand over Ivy’s shoulders and held up a finger while she tried to get her breathing in check. “Seriously,” she finally said. “We run bases, not long-distance uphill.”
An earsplitting crack followed by a crash cut their conversation short. Both startled and pivoted toward the sound. Half the town stood in front of them, so they could barely see over everyone’s head. But they could feel the heat, the evidence that not too far away, Mrs. Davis’s house burned.
“Screw it,” Ivy said and grabbed Casey’s hand, tugging her forward. “Excuse us!” she said as she pushed through the crowd. “Coming through! Sorry!” she cried as she stepped on someone’s toes. But she wasn’t stopping. Not until she made it to the barricade and got some answers. All the while, she held tight to Casey’s hand, and Casey did the same with hers.
“Oh my God,” Casey said when they got to the front.
Ivy couldn’t speak. Her hand flew over her mouth, but no sound escaped.
Mrs. Davis’s bright blue bungalow stood there at the top of her driveway like it always had. The front p
orch—decorated with potted plants and flowers, looked exactly the same. If you only stared at the porch and didn’t look up, it was the same house Ivy had known for almost thirty years.
But they did look up, and out of the white-trimmed attic window poured livid orange flames. The place was burning from the top down.
Two firefighters controlled the front of the hose. Actually, one manned the hose while the other held him or her steady by the shoulders. She realized that she’d never seen her father or brother in action, had never truly understood what it meant to work as a team the way they did.
The chief rounded the back of the engine and spoke into his radio. When he finished his conversation, Ivy waved wildly, hoping to get his attention.
“Chief Burnett! Over here!” she cried. She’d known the chief most of her life. He and her father were rookies together. If anyone could ease her mind about what was going on inside Mrs. Davis’s house, it was him.
Casey grabbed her arm and yanked it down. “I know how badly you want some information, but I think he’s a little busy, Ives.”
The chief looked up, though, and strode toward the barricade.
“Who was in the ambulance?” Ivy blurted. “Is Mrs. Davis okay? Is—are all your firefighters safe?”
He scratched the back of his neck.
“Mrs. Davis is being treated for smoke inhalation and some minor burns. Looks like she was going through some old boxes in her attic and dozed off while a scented candle was lit. We’re guessing one of the animals knocked it over, and once the drapes caught—”
“The animals!” Ivy said. “Are they out?”
The chief blew out a breath. “It may not look like it, but we have the blaze contained. It’s gonna be a while before it’s out, though. Lieutenant Bowen and a small team are inside, trying to round up the animals.”
Ivy had joked about Carter having to rescue one of Mrs. Davis’s cats from a tree. The irony of this situation, though, was far from amusing. It was as dangerous as anything Meadow Valley had ever been.
She nodded and tried to swallow the knot in her throat. “What—what was that sound? Is the structure stable enough for them to be inside?”
“One of the ceiling beams in the attic was torn free.” He glanced back toward the house. “We’ve got every available man and woman on the job. Got another engine from Quincy running a hose with some of our crew from the back and a second and third ambulance at the ready in front of our truck. We assess the situation as best we can, making predictions on what we know about the fire and how we believe it will behave. But there’s always risk.”
Casey squeezed Ivy’s hand and pointed toward the house. “Look!”
A parade of firefighters exited the front door, one carrying Mrs. Davis’s cocker spaniel, Lois. Another had a box of kittens. And the third held Butch Catsidy, the three-legged foster cat she’d had since he was a kitten—and had kept when no one adopted him. The crowd of onlookers applauded, but Ivy knew Mrs. Davis’s beagle was still missing. Frederick was old and prone to hiding, and he was no doubt burrowed somewhere he thought was safe.
A voice sounded on the chief’s radio, and he turned his back to listen and respond.
Ivy let go of Casey’s hand and pulled out her phone and fired off a quick text to Pearl.
With the chief. He’s outside. Mrs. Davis at the hospital but will be okay. No word on anyone else yet.
She couldn’t bring herself to say Carter’s name. The not knowing was making it hard to breathe. She started slipping her phone back into her pocket but then changed her mind. Even though there was no way he’d see it now, she hoped with everything she had he’d see it soon. So she brought up her last text exchange with Carter and typed.
I’m here. If you’ll let me, I will always be here for you. I love you.
She pocketed her phone just as the chief turned back around.
“They found Frederick,” he said.
Ivy breathed out a sigh of relief. But it was short-lived.
“He’s under Mrs. Davis’s bed. Two of them are trying to coax him out while another keeps watch on the soundness of the structure.” He shook his head. “I wanted everyone off the second floor by now.” He pulled his radio out again. “Lieutenant, you have two minutes to get your team out of there, dog or no dog. Do you copy?”
“Copy that, Chief. Two minutes. But we’re coming with the dog. Over.”
Ivy’s heart lifted. That was Carter’s voice. Carter was okay. The team was still okay.
The firefighters on the ground had now moved to the bucket ladder just outside the fiery attic window.
“Who else is inside?” she asked.
“It’s just Lieutenant Bowen, O’Brien, and O’Brien.”
Carter. Wyatt. Shane.
“The dog is secured, sir. We’re coming out. Over,” Carter said over the radio.
Ivy choked back a sob. In seconds he’d be out of the building and she’d be able to breathe again.
But instead she heard another screech followed by a crash and then the unmistakable sound of the PASS device, a firefighter’s personal alarm that meant he or she was in distress.
Seconds later, one of the firefighters and Frederick ran out the front door, but whoever was carrying the dog set him down on the lawn and ran back inside.
Casey hooked her arm through Ivy’s and pulled her close. “He’s gonna come out, Ives, okay? This is Meadow Valley. We don’t do tragedy here. Plus, you’ve already had your fill for one lifetime, so this is only going to end with Carter Bowen walking out of that house.”
Ivy nodded, but she couldn’t speak. Maybe she’d had her share of tragedy, but had she played a role in setting herself up for more? She shook her head, a silent argument with her thoughts. She could let her fear close her off from risk—and also happiness—or she could be here for Carter, believing in him and in what Casey said: This was going to end with Carter Bowen walking out of that house.
“What if that’s not how it ends, Case?” she asked, her voice cracking with the reality of the situation.
Casey looked at her, the tears in her best friend’s eyes mirroring her own.
“Then you will fall apart, and I will be here to put you back together again. You’re not alone in this, okay? You will never be alone.”
Ivy nodded and held her breath.
“Lieutenant, what’s your status? Over,” the chief said, somehow maintaining his calm.
“Sir, this is Shane O’Brien. Part of the attic ceiling came down over the stairs. Lieutenant Bowen and my brother—I was already at the bottom with the dog—got knocked down by a burning beam.” He went silent for a few seconds. “They’re under the beam and neither of them are moving.”
Ivy could see the fiery beam through the window. It stretched halfway down the length of the stairs.
The PASS alert ceased, and the chief’s radio crackled.
Carter’s voice sounded over the radio. “The rest of the ceiling’s gonna go, Chief. Don’t send anyone else in. O’Brien’s got this. Shane?” Carter sounded pained, and Ivy stopped breathing altogether. “Shane can you hear me?”
“Copy that. I hear you, Lieutenant Bowen,” Shane said. “But—I can’t do this. I can’t—”
“I need you to stay calm but act fast. Your brother’s unconscious and my arm is broken, and my hand is pinned under the corner of the beam. All you need to do is unpin me, and I can help you carry your brother out.”
“This shit isn’t supposed to happen here,” Shane said. “Nothing happens here.”
“You can do this, Shane,” Carter said. “But it has to be fast. The rest of the ceiling is starting to buckle.”
The radios went silent after that. Ivy swore she could hear her own heartbeat. Her hand was in Casey’s again, the two of them squeezing each other tight yet not laying voice to what they were both thinking.
This was Charlie all over again. They got Charlie out but not in time to save him from the internal injuries the paramedics couldn’t treat.
The firefighters on the outside still worked tirelessly, and the flames began to retreat. But Ivy knew that did nothing for the internal damage or the safety of the structure. The ceiling was already compromised, and the extra weight of the water would expedite its complete collapse.
A buckling sound came from within the house, and Ivy knew their time was up.
“Come on. Come on. Come on,” she chanted.
Then the roof of the house dipped. Less than a second later, it folded in on itself as two figures burst through the front-door opening with a third figure’s arms draped over their shoulders.
Shane and Carter ran with the toes of Wyatt’s boots scraping across the grass until they were far enough from what once was Mrs. Davis’s home and paramedics were able to retrieve Wyatt and get him onto a stretcher. Carter held his right arm against his torso, and when he tore off his hat and mask, she could see an expression wrought with pain as another paramedic escorted him to a third ambulance.
Ivy dropped down to the ground and crawled under the barricade.
“Go get him, Ives!” Casey called after her.
And Ivy ran. She ran past the chief, who called her name, but she didn’t stop to listen. She ran past a police car where she recognized Daniela Garcia, who’d graduated high school with Charlie, standing against the bumper. Except she was Deputy Garcia now, and although Ivy didn’t think she was breaking any laws by bypassing the barricade, at the moment she didn’t care if she had, as long as she made it to Carter.
“You can’t be back here, Ivy!” Deputy Garcia yelled. But Ivy still didn’t stop.
Not until she was breathless and banging on the already closed back door of the emergency vehicle did she come to a halt.
A paramedic swung the door open, and she climbed inside without being invited. Carter sat on the gurney still in his protective boots and pants, but his jacket had been removed and a ninety-degree splint was affixed to his right arm from shoulder to wrist. A clear tube that led to an IV bag hanging from the ceiling of the vehicle was taped to his left hand.