by Marnee Blake
He was right, of course. She wouldn’t have wanted to put anyone’s home or lives in danger or risk the fire getting larger because she wasn’t ready to see Lance go into danger like this. More, she wasn’t prepared yet for the chance she might lose him.
He had been a firefighter for years, but that was before she cared about him. Apparently she could be mad at him, unable to look at him or talk to him, but she still loved him and worried about his safety.
She shook her head, trying to clear that haze. “You’re right. Of course. They did the right thing.” Was that even her voice? It sounded wrong…off.
“He’s good, Meg, you know he is. He’s the fastest runner out of the recruit class, faster than anyone on the team save your brothers. And Lizard knew that.”
She turned away, because she couldn’t argue with that.
She shouldn’t even be here. These men had been doing their job for years without her help. She wasn’t anything to Lance, no more than she was to any of the other recruits. If Joe wasn’t her uncle, would she even have felt comfortable enough to come in here?
“I should go.”
“That might be best.” The phone next to him rang again. He picked it up and connected, without looking at her. “Buchanan.”
She waited, suspended between knowing that she didn’t belong and unable to step away, in case there was any news. When Joe’s eyes met hers, the grim set of his jaw made her cover her mouth. Something was wrong. “Thanks for letting me know. Keep me informed. I’ll make the calls.”
Meg didn’t even wait for the phone to hit the desk before she leaned forward, asking, “What happened?”
“The house that Will and Lance were protecting…it caved in. Will was inside, and Lance went in to get him. They’re waiting.”
“My God.” Her entire body stilled, paralyzed.
“I’ve called the hotshots, too. And as soon as Pete and Tim are ready, we’ll send the crew back.”
“I can go.” She couldn’t stay here, not when her brother and Lance were potentially hurt.
He shook his head. “We both know you can’t.” Joe had been there the day she failed so miserably as a firefighter and realized her fear of flames outweighed her need to help others.
“Not as the only medic. I get that. But I’m here.” Otherwise, the helplessness would swallow her whole.
“No. That’s my final answer. If you want to help, go home and prepare your mother.”
The words slammed into her. All she could do was find her mother, tell her that her eldest son was lost in the flames right now.
Along with the man Meg loved.
Nodding, she backed away until she was out of the room. She heard Joe call for her, but she turned and ran, tearing into the parking lot. Having stayed in Bend last night, her bag was still in the car. She jammed the key into the ignition, trying to picture what she would say to her mother. Only then did she realize there were tears streaking down the sides of her face.
* * * *
“Will!” Lance screamed, but his voice was absorbed by the roar of the fire. He scanned the downstairs, or what was left of it. The place wasn’t big, but the downstairs was covered with debris, the result of the middle of the house caving in. If the plume of smoke and flames that was pouring out of the house wasn’t obstructing his view, he would be able to see into the sky. He had covered his mouth and nose with his face mask, but it was still difficult to breathe.
In the opening into the upstairs, he could see movement…the shapes of two people, one larger than the other.
He needed to get up there. Doing his best to cover his face, he headed toward the stairs to his left. He shoved at some fallen rubble, tossing it out of his path. The top of the stairs, though, was blocked by broken drywall and wreckage. Glancing around, he spotted a splintered two-by-four. He wrenched it from under a bunch of other trash and used it to get a better angle under the stuff in his path.
It was slow going, too slow. Around him, the place continued to burn and the noise and panic blurred in a haze of manic activity.
There were people upstairs who needed help.
After a lifetime, he created enough of an opening to be able to see above him. Will, his face covered in blood and dirt, came into view. “It needs to be bigger,” he yelled.
Together, they cleared a larger hole, and Will reached behind him, pulling a girl, no more than eight, covered in grime, from behind his back. She was crying, her hands on her face, and Lance couldn’t look at her. Her fear would paralyze him. Will twisted her from above, and Lance attempted to guide her from beneath. It wasn’t neat, and every time they accidentally bumped her into something sharp and she cried out, it ripped a piece of his soul away.
Finally, she slipped through. Setting her behind him, he reached for Will. “Come on.”
“I’m stuck.” Will shook his head. “Get out, with her. I’ll get myself clear.”
“No. I’m not leaving you.” Lance turned to the little girl. “You have to run. Go. Can you do that? Be brave?”
She shook her head. “My mommy…” She pointed upstairs.
Damn it. There was someone else here. “I’ll see about your mom. You get to safety.” She swiped at her eyes, wavering. Lance pressed the advantage. “Go.”
Her panic won out. She turned, scurrying down the stairs and out the door. With her gone, he turned to Will. “I’m coming up.”
“Get out of here.”
“No.” Lance picked up the two-by-four he’d used to make the opening, turning to the hole with more urgency. As he set to work again, the opposite wall of the cabin groaned before crumbling inward.
“Lance, you stubborn fool. Go,” Will yelled.
“No.” He worked faster, until the hole was big enough for a grown man. Pushing up, he lifted himself. “Where’s the girl’s mom?”
“Dead.”
Lance cursed softly under his breath. Only then did he see Will. “You aren’t stuck.” He wasn’t. Instead, there was a splintered beam through his thigh, too long and bulky to let him escape through the hole he’d made.
“No. I was trying to get you to go.”
Why didn’t he want him to help him? Did he distrust him that much, that he’d rather take his chances alone and die? “I don’t listen to direction well.”
Will grimaced. “I know.”
Their eyes met and understanding passed between them. “Let’s get out of here. I need to get that out of your leg or we can’t go.”
“I know.”
Lance didn’t pause, then. He reached down and yanked the splintered beam. As it tore from Will’s leg, he screamed. Blood poured from the wound. If they didn’t move fast, he’d be yanking Will’s body out of this wreckage as he bled out.
Will nodded, significantly paler. With some jostling, they positioned Will at the cleared hole. With a shove, Lance pushed him. Thank God for gravity, because Will burst through the opening with a clumsy tumble, falling down what remained of the stairs. Lance shifted, wiggling himself through and scrambling down to join him. As Will got to his feet, he staggered, met Lance’s eyes, and lost consciousness.
Gritting his teeth, Lance grabbed his arm, pulling him up with a burst of energy. Digging his shoulder into Will’s armpit, he ignored a stab of pain from his knee, redistributing his weight under his new load. Awkwardly, he dragged both of them toward the door.
There was no warning. A loud crack sounded above him, and he had barely enough time to drop Will to the floor and cover him. What remained of the building crashed down, and the force of the falling wood stole his breath. His ears rang, and his vision clouded, blackening around the edges as he struggled to retain his consciousness. He pushed at the rubbish around him, knowing that if he passed out, he’d die here, in this burning home.
He pulled himself free, reaching for Will. Still out cold, he was dead weight,
but Lance managed to loosen the waste of the house from around him.
Unable to bear his weight, he dragged him, under the arms, out the door. On the porch, he threw him over the side, before attempting the stairs. When he failed, his legs giving out from under him, he tumbled down, falling on his face in a heap in the yard.
Through the haze of his blurred vision, he caught sight of four of his teammates. He sighed, giving over to the blackness.
* * * *
Meg and her mother sat in silence in the dirty kitchen at her mom’s house, neither looking at each other but unable to be alone. The hum of the refrigerator was the only noise in the kitchen, louder than Meg remembered and grating.
Waiting sucked. Worse than not knowing what happened was the look on her mother’s face. There was concern, of course, but also resignation. As if she lived every day in expectation of the call they were waiting for.
Meg had debated driving to the hospital and waiting there, but Joe suggested they sit tight while they waited for news. Her mom’s house was between Redmond and Bend. They could easily get to either the air center or the hospital.
After an hour, Meg was crawling out of her skin.
She pushed up, facing the sink. She gripped the counter, but when her knuckles got sore, she forced herself to loosen her fingers. Spinning on her mother, she whispered, “How are you staying so calm? I can’t take this.”
Her mom flopped back, sighing. “You know, when I met your father, first thing I noticed about him were his eyes. Lots of people say they fall in love with people’s eyes, and maybe that’s true. Because his eyes…” She grinned. “He had the most sensitive and knowledgeable eyes. Something about them, about how he looked at me, made me feel safe. Our entire lives together, he rarely got angry, always responded thoughtfully. For me, he was the calm in the storm.”
She stood, stepping forward to take Meg’s hand in her own. Her grip was firm, her palms dry. “He was that force for JT, too. They’re right when they say that Lance is just like his father. It’s like you can feel the energy under the surface. And while JT needed your father’s calm, your father needed his energy.”
Meg shook her head. “Why are you telling me this?”
“Because people are who they are. The same thing that made your father a steadying influence in our lives made him a great firefighter. Saving lives, helping others? It was as much a part of him as being your father was.” She squeezed Meg’s hand. “Those same things drive your brothers…and Lance.” Her eyes softened. “Stop trying to make them something they aren’t, Meg. Our job isn’t to change them. We can only love them as they are.”
Meg searched her mother’s face. She knew, then, about her feelings for Lance. There was no other explanation. Except, there was no judgment on her features. As if she understood, maybe better even than Meg did. “I’m not sure if I can do this, Mom.”
“I know, baby.” She wrapped her arms around her daughter. “And know this. We can love them but that doesn’t mean we have to love their choices. It’s up to you to decide if you can live with them. Because living without them…that can be just as difficult.”
Meg’s cell phone rang, breaking the tension.
She almost didn’t want to answer, but she was stronger than that. She connected, putting it on speakerphone. “Hello?”
“Meg.” Mitch sounded serious and grim. “They’re at the hospital in Bend. Get there as soon as you can.”
“How are they?”
“They are alive.” Meg met her mother’s eyes, exhaling a breath she didn’t realize she was holding. “I’ll let the doctors tell you more.”
“We’re leaving now.” They were already out the door.
In the car, Meg met her mother’s gaze. There was steel behind her eyes. The past decade had strained what used to be a close relationship between them. Whatever they’d been through, though, Meg was glad her mother was here with her now. She needed her.
Determined to follow her mother’s lead, she straightened her shoulders and they headed for Bend.
Chapter 21
Lance came to quietly. He didn’t feel right, floating and groggy. His eyelids were heavier than usual, and opening them took herculean effort. When he finally managed to pry them open, his surroundings didn’t make sense. There were rails on his bed as well as buzzing and whooshing of machines around him. He lifted his arm to rub his throbbing head, but he couldn’t get far thanks to the IV lines attached to his hands and Pulsox on his finger.
He was in the hospital.
Scowling, he tried to piece together what brought him here. The haze was pain medicine.
The fire. The cabin and the girl. The flames and Will. It all rushed back in stops and starts, a cacophony of horror and fear. That’s right. They’d almost been killed.
Hell, he had no idea where Will was. All of his hard work keeping him alive had failed.
Maybe he was more like his father that he thought.
Glancing around, he realized he wasn’t alone as he originally thought. In the corner, hunched over and looking uncomfortable in a hospital-issue chair, Meg had dozed off, one elbow propped on an armrest, her gorgeous auburn hair spilling out of a ponytail she had long neglected.
As she slept, he was reminded of how incredibly lovely she was. When she was awake, the force of her character was larger than life. Asleep, though, she looked fragile, with her dainty bones and small features. Now, the dark circles under her eyes lent a sense of vulnerability to her as well. How long had he been out? Long enough for her to look tired and too worried.
About him. After all of the things he’d put her through lately. He’d been nothing but heartbreak for her. That ripped at his chest like claws.
“Meg.” He didn’t want to wake her, but she didn’t look comfortable. Besides watching her sleep felt too intimate and he’d given up rights to that a week ago. “Hey. Firecracker. Wake up.”
She shifted, wincing. Obviously, her position was worse than he imagined. When her eyes opened, the force of that blue gaze burned him. “You’re awake.”
“Seems like it. Though I can’t be sure, what with all the pain medicine I’m on.”
“You’re alive.”
Her seriousness was unnerving. “I guess so.”
She glanced away, sitting up straighter. “It’s just…your head. We were waiting for you to wake up. It was touch and go.”
Lance knew enough about head trauma to read between the lines. Sometimes, with concussions, people didn’t wake up. No explanations, no warning. Just damage to certain spots and presto. Gone.
She’d been sitting there for who knew how long, wondering if he would ever wake up. He allowed the pain and sorrow of that to wash over him as he swallowed, looking down at himself. No obvious casts, so he wiggled his toes. He flexed his hands. All seem to be in working order. There were aches and pains, some worse than others, but he could move everything. “I seem to be okay.”
“Nasty gash on your forehead had everyone worried.” She motioned toward his leg. “There’s bruising on your hip and they were worried about internal damage, but so far so good.”
“How’s Will?” There was something going on. She was much too serious.
“He’s not awake yet. But he’s alive. Whatever went through his leg, it missed any major artery, and if it hadn’t been for you, he might not have made it out.” She bit her lip. “You saved his life.”
Gratitude made him uncomfortable. “No problem.”
“What happened? They said he went in on his own. If you hadn’t followed, he would’ve been trapped inside.” She folded her hands in her lap. “At least that’s what the little girl said.”
An image of the girl, her dirt-stained face, flashed behind his eyes and he squeezed them closed.
“How is she?” he whispered, having a hard time pretending none of this mattered. His default was br
avado, this…it was too much for him.
“She’s fine. Said you were the one who got them out. You saved her.”
“Yeah, well…if Will had let me go in with him, maybe he wouldn’t be in the hospital either.”
She cocked her head. “What do you mean?”
“He didn’t trust me.” Lance shifted, to get more comfortable on the lumpy mattress and maybe avoid the awkward situation. “Refused to take me in to get her, afraid of my decision making, I guess. And who can blame him? I blatantly ignored his directions when I was there.”
Her eyes narrowed. “I don’t understand.”
“In the house. He told me to leave, and I didn’t. He lied, said he was stuck. Would have rather taken his chances on his own, but I refused to leave him behind.” He shook his head. “I’ve tried to convince everyone that I’m not reckless, not like my father. But maybe everyone’s right. Maybe I am.”
“He would be dead. If you listened to him, Will would have died.”
“He told me to go because he didn’t want to work with me in the first place.”
“Lance—”
“Don’t. Please. Since I got back no one has trusted me. Not all the way. Maybe with good reason.” He shook his head. “I couldn’t leave him in there, though. You understand, don’t you?” He searched her face, afraid that he might find judgment there. It had been an impossible decision. Will might have wanted him to go, but he wouldn’t have been able to live with himself if he hadn’t done everything in his power to save him.
“No one expected you to leave him.”
“Will did.” Had Will really been willing to die instead of accepting his help? “No matter what I do, or maybe because of the things I do, no one is ever going to trust me here.” He met her troubled blue eyes. “Come on. I even lied to you.”