Chapter 8 #2
I’m just a couple dozen yards behind Ames as he approaches the entrance to the building.
The door’s already hanging wide, and Greene’s nowhere to be seen.
Inside the building, flames lick across the empty holes where the upstairs windows used to be, and it’s clear this side of the building is being destroyed from the inside out .
Ames pauses and turns like he somehow knows I’m there. I shake my head no and beg him to listen. For a second, I swear he hears me. I think he might obey.
Then both of us seem to remember at the same time that Ames will never take orders that contradict what he thinks is right. Especially letting a probie get hurt on his watch.
As I watch in horror, Ames runs into the building, and my whole world narrows to that single point.
“Hugh! Hugh?” I shout into the radio, but there’s no response. “Fuck. James! You have command now. Acknowledge!”
“Yeah, Robbie. Okay. What’s?—?”
“Get another crew on that hose line! Axford and Greene are inside the structure. Repeat?—”
I’m built for endurance more than speed, but apparently, the laws of physics don’t apply to people who’ve just watched their best friend throw himself into danger because it only takes me a fraction of a second to reach the door.
“Chief,” James yells. “Robbie! You can’t. Let’s organize?—”
“No time,” I tell him. This structure will not be fully standing in the five minutes it’ll take to organize a rescue.
And even though it’s against protocol, against procedure, against everything I lectured Greene about and every kind of training I’ve ever had, I run into the burning fucking building because Ames is in there , and nothing else matters.
I hit the entrance at a dead run. The heat is incredible. The smoke is solid and writhes like a living thing. Without my mask, I’d be toast. All around me, joints and supports heave and sigh and crack like they’re ready to give up the fight and yield to gravity.
“Ames!” I yell. “Status!”
Ames yells, “Everyone, out! It’s coming down!”
I’m twenty feet in when there’s a splintering crack and the shriek of metal giving way?—
Then Ames screams.
It’s a scream of pain. Of fear.
It’s the loudest sound in the universe.
A sound I’ll hear when I close my eyes for the rest of my life.
But then the scream cuts off, and the silence rings even louder.
“Ames!” I cry. “Ames! Answer me, damn it!”
The second floor above me’s fully engulfed, high on a fresh supply of oxygen and greedily licking through the hole where the ceiling used to be.
I’ve got my flashlight out, trying to look for Ames, but I’m moving blind and shaking with adrenaline.
Then the light catches on the faintest glimmer of something yellow and reflective.
Turnout gear.
I drop to my knees beside a pile of smoldering debris—charred Sheetrock and splintered wood.
“Ames!” I pull at a piece of plaster that’s pinned him across his chest and haul it off him. “I’ve got you. Talk to me!”
But once again, Ames doesn’t obey. He’s not moving. Not responding. His helmet’s askew, the face shield half-raised and cracked. His oxygen mask is—thank fuck—intact, but I can’t tell if he’s breathing.
People say my life flashed before my eyes when they’re in scary situations, but I’ve always thought that was a Hallmark-ish fabrication. When I’ve been in danger—and it’s happened, a couple of times—I was a little too busy trying to get out of it for a trip down memory lane.
But kneeling beside Ames, I get it. It’s not about the specific days or happenings; it’s about feelings.
It’s about recognizing that the best moments of my life have been when Ames’s blue eyes were laughing at me, when his mouth was smiling at me, when his strength was at my side.
It’s about realizing he’s the best thing that will ever happen to me.
It’s about thinking—just for a heartbeat, less than a heartbeat— well, fuck it, then, because if he goes, I go too .
All of this takes only a second. Then I rip off my glove, push away the collar of his coat, and find a pulse in his throat. My breath, my life, comes back to me in a shuddering rush.
“Stay with me, Ames.” My words come out broken and desperate. I don’t think he can hear me, especially with my mask on, but I say it anyway. “I’ve got you, baby. Stay with me.”
I’m pretty sure, later, that I scream into my radio that there’s a firefighter down, but this fucking building might come down, and Ames is alive , so I’m getting us out of here.
I grab him under the shoulders and haul, but it takes precious minutes to get him clear of the heavy debris. My back screams, my biceps shake, my legs tremble, but I don’t care. This is what they’re for . For Ames. For saving him and holding him. Nothing matters but the man in my arms.
I haul him higher against my chest, and his head lolls against my shoulder .
“I’ve got you,” I whisper. “I’ve got you, baby. Everything’s gonna be good now.”
This isn’t quite true. The heat’s blistering. The floor is a minefield covered in haphazard piles of debris. The building creaks further, and I think the roof … oh, fuck .
Then, hands are grabbing me, guiding me through the door. I stumble away from the building, the cold air feeling like a benediction, and lay Ames on the ground.
“EMTs! I need an ambulance!” I cry the second I rip my mask off.
I manage to remove Ames’s helmet and tear open his coat. I still can’t tell for sure if he’s breathing.
“Ames, baby.” My voice comes out cracked. “You stupid, stupid motherfucker. Don’t you dare ? —”
The EMTs fall to their knees beside us and push me away. They check his vitals and verify that he is, indeed, getting oxygen. The whole time, I’m sitting there holding his hand because I can’t make myself let go.
All the doubts and fears and questions fade away.
I’m Ames’s lifeline. I know I am.
And for damn sure, he’s mine.
I’m vaguely aware of Greene and Hugh nearby. Greene’s sprawled on the ground moaning while an EMT works on his leg. Hugh’s sitting upright but slumped with an oxygen mask pressed to his face. He looks over at me and nods. I nod back, once.
Then the EMTs working on Ames start to maneuver him onto a board, and my focus snaps back.
“Possible chest trauma,” one of them’s saying. “Possible concussion. Pulse is strong, but we’ve gotta move.”
I hold his hand tighter. “Let’s go.”
“Chief.” The medic puts a hand on my shoulder, and I realize I know her, but for the life of me, I can’t remember her name. “Robbie. I promise, we’re going to take good care of him, but right now, you need to get looked at?—”
“I’m uninjured. And I’m riding along,” I announce.
Her eyes meet mine, and whatever she sees there has her blowing out a breath and relenting. “Come on, then.”
They load Ames and his board onto a gurney and then into the ambulance. I hoist myself up after him. Before the doors close, I look for James and find him beside Tanker 2.
“I got this,” I see him mouth, and I realize that somewhere, I’ve lost my helmet, my oxygen, my radio, one of my gloves. I hadn’t noticed.
As we pull away, sirens wailing, I sit beside Ames and hold his hand. I watch the medics cut off his coat, start an IV, monitor his chest as it rises and falls, and I realize for the first time in weeks, I’m not confused at all.
I wanted clarity earlier? Well, here it fucking is.
Ames isn’t just part of my future. He’s the center. He’s everything.
He’s the first thing I think about when I wake up because I want to know what he’s doing, and the last person I think of at night because I want to be sure he’s okay.
He’s the person I want to tell every stupid joke to and share every brilliant idea with.
The one I want to cry on, when I need to cry.
The person whose opinion matters more to me than anyone else’s.
The one whose love is like oxygen to me.
Dr. Colburn said to ask myself what I want, what I need, what I can live with, what I can’t live without? He’s the answer.
All the other demands and obligations, all my other priorities and responsibilities, fade into background noise. I could lose all of them and still be okay, as long as I have him.
Ames is the one person I can’t lose.
St. Margaret’s Hospital is about thirty minutes outside of Winsome, and I know we make it there faster, though it feels like we’re crawling. Once we get there, they wheel Ames straight back, and I try to go too, but a nurse stops me with a hand on my chest.
“I’m not leaving—” I warn.
The nurse is kind, but I don’t know her, and she’s made of sterner stuff than the paramedic I’ve worked with for years. “Great. Don’t leave. But you’re gonna let the doctors work, Chief. We’ll update you when we can.”
I might’ve argued still, but they’re already wheeling Ames away through automatic doors, and I can’t follow.
I’m still standing and staring at those doors sometime later when a hand touches my arm, and I turn to find a small woman with long, blonde hair wearing pink scrubs.
“Anna,” I manage, enveloping my ex-sister-in-law in a hug. “It’s Ames. He…”
“I know, sweetie.” She squeezes me back, but when she pulls away, I see her eyes are shining with worry. “They’re taking good care of him. Now, let’s take care of you so you can be there for him after, okay?”
She leads me by the hand through a maze of corridors, and I follow blindly. Finally, we end up in a pastel-painted waiting room, and I glance around.
I realize I must’ve been standing in that hallway a long fucking time because everyone’s already here.
Vivian and Grant—Ames’s parents—are sitting close together, hands linked.
Beckett—the oldest sibling—stands by the far wall, hair wild and arms wrapped tight around Griffin, who’s pressed to his side.
True’s sitting in front of them, silent and contained.
Holden’s slumped over near his parents, elbows on his knees, and when he glances up to nod at me, I see misplaced guilt in his eyes.