Chapter 27
Twenty-seven
Annie should have jumped out of the window when she had the chance. Now, it was too late. She was stuck.
Trapped.
Her voice was hoarse from screaming for help – or maybe it was the smoke.
She wasn’t sure. She’d stayed at the window yelling as long as she could, but the fire moved so quickly and the smoke was so overpowering.
She had no choice but to flee into a small office at the back corner of the building where she could shut the door.
A small, windowless room. She sat on the floor, trying to catch the last breaths of smokeless air. Did anyone even know the building was on fire? The person in the parking lot might have, though as soon as they had seen her looking out the window, they had scurried off.
There was nothing else nearby, just some houses on the other side of the wall of trees. Would anyone notice the smoke? There had to be at least one busybody at home, someone curious enough to find out what was going on.
If only she hadn’t committed so fully to detaching from her phone.
Months ago, she’d realized she had the bad habit of staring at it too much.
It was a way to soothe her anxiety around the divorce, mindlessly scrolling through pictures and videos.
The bad habit had bled into her work life and into her home life, so she had put a stop to it.
Annie hadn’t even thought twice about leaving her phone behind, sitting at her desk. And now she had no way to call for help.
Maybe she could still jump out of the window? She crawled to the door on her knees and cracked it open. Black smoke poured in, and she shut the door in a fit of coughing.
Even if she could find the window, what if she couldn’t hold her breath long enough to get to it? When she’d looked down before, it was dizzying. It seemed so high. Could she survive a fall from that height? She’d certainly break her legs, but what was two broken legs if she still had her life?
Tears rushed into her eyes. She should’ve stayed downstairs. She shouldn’t have come to work at all. She should have set up a will – not that she had anything to leave to the kids, but maybe she could’ve written them letters. A final goodbye, so they could know she had loved them so, so dearly.
The tears spilled out with a sob. Annie put her face in her hands and let it out.
“Annie!”
She stopped, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she tried to stop crying.
It was so faint she thought she was imagining it.
“Annie!”
She sat up. There it was again. A muffled voice, but it was there.
She stood from her crouched position and screamed, “Help! I’m in here!”
The smoke was so thick and dark she couldn’t see the door anymore, until a moment later when it burst open and a beam of light pierced the darkness.
“Annie.”
She still couldn’t see who was calling her name, but she could hear him now. She ran towards the light and slammed into a mass of yellow.
He wore a mask, and the light blinded her, but even through the smoke and chaos, she knew who it was.
Miles.
A sob caught in her throat, and coughing overtook her again. She collapsed into his arms, and with one motion, he swept her up, moving powerful legs swiftly through the hazy darkness.
A window burst open, the crisp outside air quickly polluted by smoke.
“Ladder!” he yelled, and within seconds, metal slammed against the building.
“Can you make it out?”
She nodded, coughing.
Miles leapt out first, and Annie second. He guided her down as she continued coughing and wheezing.
On the ground, he picked her up again, running to a waiting ambulance.
He set her down. “Is there anyone else inside?” he asked, staring at her through the mask.
She had the nonsensical thought that his eyes looked so pretty in this light.
Annie managed to shake her head, and the medics swarmed her, wrapping her in blankets, pressing oxygen to her face, asking her questions.
Miles stood behind them and removed his mask, his expression hard. He waited only a moment before disappearing.
There were two fire trucks there, hoses going, people yelling, and all at once the realization hit her – she wasn’t going to die.
Not today, at least.
Annie tilted her head back and looked at the sky, finally able to take a full breath.
After a trip to the hospital to be checked out and treated for smoke inhalation, Annie was sent home.
The days that followed were a blur of calls and visits and a seemingly endless parade of flowers.
It was too much to process. The building, despite the best efforts of the fire department, was lost. All their data for the lab was gone.
When the head of the lab came to see her, Annie openly mourned the loss of their research.
He stared at her for a moment, a look of bewilderment on his face. “Annie,” he leaned in, eyebrows furrowed, “it’s a shame, of course, but all I care about is that you’re alive.”
This made her burst into guilt-filled tears.
There were a lot of tears over the coming days, most of them between her and her mom. Annie caught her mom staring at her more than once before bursting into tears.
“Mom,” she’d groan. “I’m fine!”
Her mom would only sniffle, hug her, and fuss away.
Annie most certainly was not fine, but she wasn’t going to burden anyone with it. Mercifully, the twins had no idea anything had happened. All they knew was Mom was home a lot more the following week, which meant more time to fight for her attention.
The normalcy of their reaction was comforting, because horrifyingly, even Roy called, panic evident in his voice.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked.
“I’m fine,” she lied, because if there was anyone she was going to talk to about how she felt, it wasn’t Roy.
Two days after the smolders were out, she met with Chief Hank and a special fire investigator. She told them what she’d seen from the window when the fire started. They cast each other a look but said nothing.
Annie was desperate to know what had happened. She asked Hank if he knew about the threat against the fire department. He only nodded.
She wanted to tell him about Lauren – the cavalier way she’d talked about the fire department losing their case. The way she’d gotten an extremely expensive car out of the blue, how it seemed she’d almost confessed something at the fundraiser.
It all seemed connected, but the thought was too horrible to entertain. How could Annie tell Hank about it if she didn’t even know what was going on? She wasn’t going to accuse Lauren of starting the fire. It was too insane. Saying her friend had tried to kill her? Over what?
Annie’s head spun even thinking of it. Perhaps she was a terrible judge of character after all.
She decided to hold her tongue until she was sure whatever she reported was the truth. Chief Hank seemed to know what he was doing, and to top it off, the entire community was up in arms. A reward was raised for information, and another team was brought in to examine the wreckage.
Everyone was talking about it.
Everyone except Miles.
Since his heroic rescue, he’d made himself scarce. The night of the fire, he stopped by the house and stood in the doorway,
“You’re feeling okay? The doctors checked you out?”
Annie nodded, still unable to put the experience into words. “I don’t know how to thank you for what you did.”
“I was just doing my job,” he said gruffly.
His expression was hard, and there was no laughter in his eyes.
“You saved my life,” she whispered. “You risked your life to save mine.”
“All part of the job.” He looked down, shaking his head. “Let me know if you need anything.”
And with that, he turned his big, broad shoulders and walked away.
A week later and still not a word. Not a check in, not a stop by. Only Bella came to visit, and despite inviting Miles along, he never appeared.
Where had the warmth gone in their friendship? It could be as simple as him moving on. He had a new girlfriend, and maybe he realized their friendship could make her feel insecure.
Or maybe he’d tired of Annie – whining about Roy, struggling with one new daycare illness or the next. Almost dying in a fire.
Such a drama queen.
She’d avoided him at the fundraiser, but that was only because she couldn’t bear to see him with another woman. It felt like daggers pressing into her heart.
Annie had hidden out on the beach, or when he almost spotted her, she ran into Margie’s house. Anything but having to face Miles with her again.
Maybe that had offended him. Maybe he’d seen her for the immature woman she was. He’d still saved her life, but only because it was his job, like he said.
Duty. That’s all Annie had ever been. Someone who needed help, and now that she’d had it – more than she deserved – he’d moved on.
Why couldn’t she move on, too? Why couldn’t it be simple? To find a way to be grateful for the things he’d done, the things he’d shown her. The things he’d awoken in her.
And for literally pulling her out of a burning building. Saving her life. Couldn’t she find a way to be grateful for that?