Chapter 10
Chapter
Ten
AMbrOSE
“Ican’t thank you enough,” Catalina says, smiling broadly at me four days later.
I shrug, standing in the driveway of her grandmother’s house. “No worries. I’m glad we could make this work.”
“You should at least let me reimburse you for the alternator.”
“Nope,” I say, crossing my arms over my chest. “It was my pleasure and an easy fix.”
I reconsidered my original plan the night after the auction, ordering an alternator for Catalina’s Corolla.
Though she had to make do for a couple of days, carpooling with the County Recorder, who also commutes from Hollister to Ophir City, I rush-ordered the part so that I could fix it after my forty-eight-hour shift, which began bright and early Monday morning.
Gran appears on the porch, calling toward me, “Young man, can you stay for dinner tonight?”
Catalina’s eyebrows lift, and I eye her face, trying to read her reaction. A glimmer of a smile teases her lips. “You’re more than welcome if you’re okay with beef stew and homemade bread?”
“Is that a trick question or something?” I ask, grinning. My stomach lurches just thinking about the delectable spread. But what really pulls me in? The coziness of a shared meal in a space that could feel like family.
“And you can see all the flowers you’ve been decorating our house with,” Catalina adds, cheeks glowing.
“That sounds like—” The warmth of possibility flares in my chest … and then my pager shrieks.
I frown. I’m not typically on call at the fire station, though as a trained paramedic, they bring me in for major emergencies.
Dispatch follows. “Attention all units. Multi-vehicle accident involving a semi with injuries. Highway four eighty-eight, approximately five miles past the town line. Possible entrapments. Roadway blocked. Fluids on the road. Request law enforcement and heavy rescue.”
My gut tightens, adrenaline pumping.
A flicker of fear flashes across Catalina’s face. The kind that whispers I might not come back. “Do you have to go?”
I nod firmly, and the fear grows, flaming in her eyes like a spark to dry wood. Bobbing my head between her and her grandma, I excuse, “Sorry, but I’ll have to take a rain check.”
Catalina licks her bottom lip. “Sounds dangerous.” A tremor hovers in her voice, both warming my chest and filling me with dread.
“Comes with the job. I’ll be fine.”
She looks skeptical, eyes fluttering to the side. Her concern warms my chest, but the panic in her eyes also chills me. If this kind of thing shakes her to the core … Well, I don’t know how that would bode for getting into a deeper relationship.
“Be careful,” she calls after me breathlessly as I head for my vehicle.
“Always, Sparky.”
“And please … just promise me you’ll text when you’re safe,” she blurts, her voice cracking before she shuts it down.
“You’ll be my first text,” I answer with a confident wink.
As I race towards the station, I gear myself up for total focus.
This is it. My chance to prove I’m not just a pretty face who lucked into the badge.
I have to put Catalina, her grandmother’s invitation, all of it out of my mind to be as present as possible.
Though her lingering look of worry knots my stomach, hinting at a far bigger obstacle than my fame could ever be.
Her fear might be the one thing I can’t fight off with a grin or strong arms.
At the station, we organize and get briefed before we grab our equipment and gear. Once I’m in the thick of the smoke and chaos, adrenaline takes over. Sheriff’s deputies swarm the scene. So do firefighters, working to quell the blaze.
Chief Kurt, soot-faced and breathing hard through his self-contained breathing apparatus runs in our direction. Nodding towards the semi, he says, “Driver’s trapped inside. We’ll keep the fire suppressed while you work on extrication.”
I scan the overturned semi, its ominous circular chrome trailer, and the cars piled around it through my face shield. “That’s a liquid fertilizer truck.”
“We’ll buy you as much time as we can, but listen for my order to pull back. If the diesel and ammonium nitrate mix. Kaboom.”
I nod, stomach tightening. The crew and I race for our truck and the tools we’ll need. We set up the generator and spreader, and then I make contact with the driver through his shattered window. His white-bearded face pulses with panic, dazed and incoherent.
“We’re here to help. Are you injured?” I holler.
“Please,” he begs, grabbing my gloved hand. “Don’t leave me. Don’t let me die.” He chokes and sputters, face reddish purple.
“Sir, tell me what’s going on,” I scream behind my SCBA.
He clutches his chest. “Hurts so bad …”
“Are you having chest pains?”
“Hurts. Everything hurts. My legs.” He grimaces, gritting out the words.
“Tell me your name and age.” My eyes glance at the wreckage, assessing the best means of reaching him.
“Steve. Sixty-two.”
“Any health conditions?”
“Diabetic,” he gasps. “God!” His haunting scream rises above the other sounds of chaos—sirens, horns, cries for help.
“Injuries?”
“My legs. They’re pinned under the dash,” he says, eyes glassy with panic.
“Ready with the spreader,” Donovan interjects, and I step back to help him.
“Trailer’s filled with fertilizer,” I scream.
“We may only have minutes,” Donovan replies, face going white as a sheet.
I clasp a hand on his shoulder, saying resolutely, “Then, we better make those minutes count.”
Our eyes simultaneously dart to the engine fire spiraling out of control. Billowing black clouds pour from the intensifying blaze as Kurt and his crew work to contain it.
Jamming the spreader between two crushed and contorted panels, Donovan and I work to gain entry to the cab as I mentally prepare to stabilize and rescue the driver. It’ll be grab-and-go with the way the fire continues to build.
Aiden and Waldon step in with the cutter, working carefully to peel back the door.
“We need the dam,” I scream.
Aiden and Waldon sprint for the tool. I point, indicating where to wedge it and watch as it pushes the dashboard forward, freeing the man’s legs.
“It’s going to blow!” someone screams.
“Move it! Move it!” Donovan orders.
Her wide, terrified eyes flash through my head. If I die here, I’ll prove her fears right. And I can’t let that be my legacy.
But I also can’t let a man burn alive. His legs look broken, though there are no life-threatening lacerations as far as I can tell, and he can move freely, relieving my concern about a broken neck.
“Ambrose! Get out now!”
“Come on, God, just one more damn second,” I mutter, making bargains I’m not sure I can keep.
Pulling the man free, I wedge myself beneath him, rising with him over my shoulder. I tear away from the pickup and trailer. Each second feels like days before an explosion rocks the roadway, and the flames transform into a hungry inferno.
Heat presses in on us, smoke choking. But I’ve got Steve over my shoulder, still moving and responding.
My ears ring, and my vision darkens for a moment as I continue driving forward, pushing free of hell before I drop to my knees, carefully setting Steve down.
We lie in the blockaded road, gasping for air and watching flames and smoke curl into the sky.
“Hollywood, are you okay?” Kurt kneels in front of me, but his voice sounds distant. Concern etches his features.
Paramedics swarm, assessing Steve for injuries as I labor to catch my breath, nodding. “That was … a close call,” I rasp, lungs burning. “Too damn close.”
“I told you to back up when the trailer was about to explode. But you refused to listen.”
“I was so close to saving him, Chief,” I say, shaking my head. I don’t know if I’m screaming or talking in a normal voice between the echo of the explosion still lingering in my head, the pulse pounding in my temples, and the smoke burning my throat.
“He frowns. You could’ve died in that explosion.”
“Sorry, Chief. I couldn’t leave him.”
He nods, clenching his jaw. “Good work today, you lucky son of a bitch.”
Waldon, Donovan, and Aiden surround us, eyes wide and faces black with smoke. Instead of the normal derision in their faces, I find silent approval.
“Hollywood saved the day,“ Donovan declares. Not mocking this time, but with something close to respect.
Donovan bends low to shake my hand, followed by Aiden and Waldon.
Had to. Leave no one behind—that’s my creed, the one thing I’ll never compromise.
Kurt growls, “Well, he gets to keep saving. This is going to be a long evening.”
Looking past him at the wreckage from the overturned semi and car pile-up, I steel myself, rising and running back towards the disaster.
Hours pass that feel like lifetimes. When I finally sit down again, removing my helmet, face shield, and SCBA, I feel exhausted to the point of nausea.
I chug water, reaching for my cell phone and flipping to my texts. Messages have flooded in from friends and family who learned about the fire. At the top, I see a message from Catalina.
Please tell me you’re okay
All good
Thank God
Her almost immediate response puts a pit of guilt in my stomach. No telling how long she’s waited by the phone.
You were in the news. You risked your life to save that trucker
And I was interviewed by local media. But this time the attention felt different. Purposeful. Like what I was made to do.
Yes
You could’ve been hurt or worse
Part of the job
Firefighters were injured. People died
It was a sad day. But I did what I could to help
You’re a hero, Ambrose
But I could have lost you
Her words slice deeper than any insult about Hollywood ever could.
Not today. Not with you waiting for me
She’s seen me now—the real me. And I’ll spend every damn day proving she never has to fear losing me.
I want to see her again. More than anything. But I’m so exhausted, I don’t even know if I trust myself driving home.
You should go to bed, Sparky. It’s late. I’ll call you on your lunch break
I’m glad you’re okay. Good night
Good night
I stare at the screen for a long moment, waiting for more. But nothing comes through. Her last text is short, clipped—like she’s pulling back, protecting herself. Not what I’d hoped for … not after proving myself in the only way I know how.