Chapter 26
Chapter Twenty-Six
Jack
The steady beeping of the heart monitor is the first thing I register. My chest feels like it’s been run over by a freight train, and every breath is a reminder of the smoke I inhaled. My lungs burn, my ribs ache, but I’m alive. That thought alone keeps me grounded.
Alive is a hell of a lot better than the alternative.
The room is quiet except for the faint hum of hospital machinery. I crack my eyes open, wincing at the harsh fluorescent lights. My mom’s voice drifts over to me before I can even turn my head.
“Jack! You’re awake,” she says, rushing to my side. Her face is a mix of relief and worry, her hands fluttering over me like she’s not sure where to start. Joanne is right behind her, her eyes red-rimmed but smiling.
“You scared the hell out of us,” Joanne says, crossing her arms but leaning in like she’s debating whether to hug me or smack me.
“Sorry,” I rasp, my voice rough and dry. “Didn’t mean to cause a fuss.”
My mom lets out a watery laugh, brushing my hair back like I’m still a kid. “Oh, hush. I know how you are. You weren’t thinking about anything other than making sure those animals were safe. You’re allowed to cause a fuss when you’ve been through what you have.”
“How bad is it?” I ask, trying to shift, but the pain in my side stops me cold.
Joanne steps in; her voice is practical but kind. “You had some internal bleeding. They had to do surgery, but the doctor said they got it under control. You’ll be sore for a while, but you’ll be fine.”
“Lucky me,” I mutter, trying to muster a smirk. It falls flat, but they both smile anyway.
“You’re lucky, all right,” Joanne says as she reaches over and squeezes my hand. “I’m glad Rick was there.”
“Me too. Hey, is the dog okay? Do you know?”
“You’re worried about a dog?” Mom asks with a small chuckle.
“He tried to save my life. He was trying to pull me out and push the beam off me.”
“The little Australian shepherd of Liv’s?” Joanne asks.
“Yeah, that one.”
“I’ll ask Brynn. She didn’t say anything about him.”
“Thanks.”
“I’m going to head home with the kids,” Joanne says. “Now that I know you’re all right, I can sleep better. The Castings and all the ranch hands are outside; I’ll let them know you’re good and can go home. Brynn was really worried about you.”
My chest squeezes at the mention of Brynn’s name, but I brush it off.
“Thanks, Jo.” I smile as she leans down to hug me.
“Don’t ever scare me like that again.”
“I’ll try not to,” I say with a soft chuckle.
It hurts too bad to laugh.
Mom sits on the couch in the corner of the room.
“You don’t have to stay, Ma,” I say.
She gives me a look that says You’re crazy if you think I’m leaving. I chuckle low and smile back at her.
“You get to rest, Jack. I’m not going anywhere.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
I close my eyes and try to rest. The hospital room is quiet except for the steady beep of the monitor tracking my heartbeat. It’s too slow, too even, like it doesn’t belong to me.
It’s too quiet.
I open my eyes and stare at the ceiling, my throat dry, my body heavy.
The fire flickers behind my eyes when I close them—red and violent, swallowing the barn in an instant.
I can still hear the panicked cries of the animals, the heat pressing against my skin, and the suffocating smoke in my lungs.
I went in without thinking. No hesitation.
Because they needed me. Because I couldn’t stand there and do nothing.
I would do it again in a heartbeat.
My mind replays when they helped me out of the barn.
Locking eyes with Brynn, seeing how scared she was, and also relieved that I was okay.
She ran to me. Through the chaos, through the smoke, her face pale, her eyes wild with fear.
She wasn’t looking for the damage to the barn.
She wasn’t barking orders at the firefighters or checking on the horses.
She was looking for me. And when she saw me barely standing, she touched me like she needed proof I was real.
Like she cared.
My fingers curl into the stiff hospital blanket, and I exhale slowly, shoving the thought away. She was worried because I work for her. Because I’m the one who keeps her ranch running. That’s all.
It’s not because of what happened between us.
Not because of the way she came apart in my arms just hours before the fire, her body tangled with mine, her lips whispering my name like it meant something.
I swallow hard and stare at the ceiling again, ignoring the way my chest tightens and the way that her face won’t leave my memory.
I can’t allow her in.
By Monday, I’m feeling a little better. The soreness is still there, but the burning in my lungs has dulled to an ache. My mom and Joanne are hovering, fussing over every little thing. It’s equal parts comforting and infuriating.
“You need to take it easy,” my mom says for the hundredth time as the doctor comes in to check on me.
“He’s healing well,” the doctor says, glancing at the chart. “If everything looks good this afternoon, we can discharge him.”
“Discharge?” My mom’s voice rises half an octave. “He’s in no shape to be on his own.”
“I’ll be fine, Mom,” I say, trying to sit up a little straighter. The movement sends a sharp twinge through my side, but I grit my teeth and push through it. “I’m not staying here a minute longer than I have to.”
“Then you’re coming home with me,” she declares, crossing her arms like it’s not up for debate.
“Mom, I’m not a kid,” I protest. “I’ve got a place. I’ll go back to the ranch.”
“The ranch?” she says, her voice full of disbelief. “You need rest, not… whatever chaos is waiting for you there.”
“It’s my job.”
“And you won’t take it easy like you need to. You’ll get pulled into helping and…”
Joanne chimes in, trying to play peacemaker. “Maybe he just needs to be somewhere familiar. The ranch is home, after all.”
“I won’t push myself too hard, Mom. My body won’t allow it. But it is my job, and I need to be there.”
My mom sighs but doesn’t argue further. I know she’s not happy about it, but she’ll let me have this one. For now.
“I’ll drive you home,” she says when the discharge papers are finally signed. The ride is quiet at first, but she can’t help herself for long.
“Brynn is such a sweetheart,” she says, glancing over at me. “She’s been so strong through all this. And she’s so pretty, don’t you think?”
I groan, leaning my head back against the seat. “Mom, don’t start.”
“What?” she says, all innocence. “I’m just saying, she’d be a good match for you.”
“She’s not looking,” I say firmly, staring out the window. “And neither am I.”
“Funny how you mentioned she wasn’t looking first. You don’t have to be looking to find someone special,” she counters, her tone annoyingly smug. I don’t have to look at her to know that she’s grinning back at me. “Sometimes it just happens.”
I shake my head, but I don’t argue further. There’s no point. Once my mom gets an idea in her head, she’s like a dog with a bone.
When we pull into the ranch, the sight of the barn stops me cold. The charred skeleton of what used to be a sturdy, dependable building looms against the sky. My chest tightens, and for a moment, it feels like I’m back there, the heat and smoke choking the air, the chaos of it all overwhelming.
“Jack?” My mom’s voice pulls me back. I realize I’ve been staring, my fists clenched so tightly my knuckles are white.
“I’m fine,” I say, though my voice is rough. Anger bubbles up, hot and sharp.
Who the hell could have done this? And why?
With the wind and no rain, this could have taken the entire ranch and all the people on it.
I grip the door handle so hard that I’m surprised it doesn’t break off in my hand.
“It’s going to be okay,” she says softly, resting a hand on my arm. “They’ll find out who did it.”
I nod, but the anger doesn’t fade. If anything, it burns brighter.
Whoever did this is going to pay. One way or another.