Chapter 9
9
MALLORY
T he hospital had a waiting room filled with people, and it was always good to stay updated in case there were major events unfolding that would bring more patients. As Mallory swiped through the headlines, one news story caught her attention. The Phoenix Ridge Wild Fire. The footage from the scene was captured live, and as the camera zoomed in on the flames, Mallory’s heart skipped a beat. And then she saw her.
Kara.
There she was, standing tall against the smoke and chaos, her fire gear filthy, her wild brown hair pulled back into a tight ponytail under her helmet, but a few strands still managed to break free and whip around in the wind. Her eyes were sharp, scanning the fire’s edge, calculating her next move with an intensity that Mallory admired. She watched as Kara barked orders to her crew, moving effortlessly between them, offering encouragement, guidance, and leadership with every step. There was a quiet strength to Kara, a sense of assurance that commanded respect.
Mallory’s chest tightened. Mallory felt a wave of panic rise in her. Kara was out there, in the thick of it, in the firestorm, and Mallory couldn’t do a thing to help. She couldn’t protect her, couldn’t keep her safe.
The screen zoomed in on Kara once more as she maneuvered around the fire’s perimeter. Mallory could see the tension in her face, the weight of the responsibility she carried. Her heart broke for her—because Mallory knew that Kara carried that burden alone, and she could guess just how much it cost her.
Mallory closed the news feed and opened her message app. Her hands trembled as she typed a quick message to Kara. Be careful out there. Please.
She hit send before she could second-guess herself. She didn’t know what else to say. The fear in her chest was suffocating, but the admiration for Kara, for the woman she was, ran deep. She was proud of her, proud of the way Kara gave everything she had, no matter the risk. But it terrified Mallory, too. Terrified her because every time Kara went out there, she risked her life. And every time, Mallory would have to be reminded of the danger that lurked in her world, the danger that Mallory would never escape.
The text was sent. Mallory sat back in her chair, her mind reeling, her thoughts a storm of worry and longing. She wanted to be close to Kara, wanted to understand her, to hold her. But the fear of losing her again gnawed at Mallory’s insides, twisting with every thought. Could she ever overcome the fear? Could she ever truly let herself love Kara, knowing how dangerous her world was?
She leaned her head back against the chair, closing her eyes for just a moment, feeling the ache in her chest grow deeper. The flames, the heat, the smoke—they were so far away, but yet a constant presence in Mallory’s mind. And with them, Kara, fighting on the front lines.
And Mallory realized, with a start, that she might never be able to let go of that fear. But at the same time, she couldn’t stop herself from caring. She couldn’t stop herself from wanting more.