Chapter 3
PENNY
I’m going to have to jump.
There’s no way around it.
It doesn’t matter when Mitch gets here. He can’t get inside. And I can’t leave.
All it takes is one look out the bathroom window to know just how bad my situation is.
The fire is tearing through the floors beneath me, shattering windows and splintering walls. Flames lick at the windowsills and clouds of black smoke billow into the sky. The house creaks and moans, sounding almost like a living creature as it’s devoured by flames.
Just like I will be, if I don’t get out of here.
Still clutching the phone with one sweat-slicked hand, I tentatively reach towards the bathroom doorknob with the other. I’m not eager to burn my hand again, not when it’s already red and blistered from the first time, but I’m not sure how else to tell if the fire’s reached my bedroom.
Well, aside from opening the door to look.
But I’m not doing that. Not when I’ve spent years hanging around with firefighters, hearing their stories and mentally tucking away all their tips—if you’re caught in a fire, stay low to the ground, cover your nose and mouth with a wet towel, and always keep the doors shut to slow the spread of the flames.
That’s why I’m crouched on the floor beneath the window, three wet towels in a pile beside me. That’s why I haven’t dared leave the bathroom, even though instinct is urging me to make a run for it.
Mitch told me to stay here, I keep reminding myself. He’s a firefighter. He knows what to do. If he said this is the safest place, I believe him.
But safest is subjective, isn’t it?
Safest doesn’t mean much when I’m trapped on the third floor of a burning house. It just means it’ll take longer to die.
Oh, God.
Tears burn my already stinging eyes. I clap my hand over my mouth to stifle a sob. My chest aches with the effort of trying to contain my terror.
I take a shuddering breath in hopes of calming myself down, but all it does is make me cough. Glancing at the bottom of the bathroom door, and the wet bath towel wedged beneath it, I spot several wisps of dark smoke sneaking their way inside.
Panic clutches at me.
The fire. It’s almost here.
How long ago did I hang up with Mitch?
How long ago did I call 911?
It feels like it’s been hours. Days, even. But a glance at my phone tells me it’s been less than two minutes.
Will the fire department get here in time?
But it’s not like they can rescue me right away. There are ladders to set up. Hoses to run. Even if the trucks get here right this second, which I doubt they will, it’ll still take time for them to arrange for a rescue.
Or what if they decide it’s too dangerous, a voice in the back of my head asks.
Sometimes that happens. They won’t put the firefighters’ lives at risk if the odds of injury or death are too great.
And I wouldn’t want them to. Not when I know most of the people who volunteer there and consider many of them to be my friends.
They have wives. Husbands. Kids. And then there’s me—kid-less, pet-less, stupid Penny who pushed away the only man who actually cares about her.
I don’t want to die, that little voice moans. I want to live.
I want to give things with Mitch a real try instead of keeping him at arm’s length.
I want to go on trips with him and call him my boyfriend and the next time he’s invited to a wedding, I want to be his plus-one.
And I want all of that to just be assumed, because we’re together. Not as friends, but as a couple.
From somewhere beneath me, there’s a loud, cracking sound.
The house shakes.
I suck in a sharp breath and start coughing again.
Fresh tears wet my cheeks.
Oh, God, I’m so scared.
Popping up from my crouch, I peer out the window again, and immediately wish I hadn’t. Flames aren’t just coming through the second floor windows now. They’re licking at the walls, turning the once-cheerful yellow black.
Rather than dropping back down to the floor, I look up and down the street, hoping to catch a glimpse of fire trucks approaching. But they’re not close enough yet. All I can hear is a distant siren, which may or may not be for me.
I see my neighbors grouped in small clusters on the street below, and while I’m looking, one of them spots me. “Penny!” Mrs. Everts shouts. “Penny’s still up there! Someone needs to help her!”
Well. That would be nice. But help isn’t here.
I lean over the windowsill to look at the ground beneath me, trying to judge the distance. Logically, I know each floor has to be about eight feet high, plus there’s the foundation, so I must be… twenty feet up?
Could I survive the jump? I ask myself again. Do I have another option?
Then, in a squeal of tires, a car whips around the corner and comes to a screeching stop in front of the house.
But not just any car. Mitch’s.
While the car is still rocking, he leaps out and rushes around to the trunk.
Another sob escapes. And another.
Mitch.
At least if I die, I’ll get to see him one last time.
Maybe I’ll even get a chance to tell him how I really feel.
I can tell him he’s the most incredible man I’ve ever met.
I can tell him I’m sorry for making him wait.
That I hope he finds someone who’ll make him truly happy, because he deserves it.
I glance over my shoulder at the bathroom door again. Smoke is working its way all around the corners and seeping into the room. The ceiling is clouded by a grayish haze.
Just as I’m turning back to the window, my phone rings.
Mitch’s name blinks onto the screen.
I have to jab at the screen several times with my trembling fingers before I manage to hit the answer button. “Mitch?”
“Penny.”
Just the sound of his voice is enough to start me crying again. “Mitch. The fire… I think… I have to jump…”
“No.” His tone is low and commanding. “You’re not jumping, Pen. I’m coming to get you.”
I look out the window again. Mitch is standing on the grass, unrolling a coil of rope with one hand while he holds his phone with the other. “You can’t get up here,” I tell him. “The fire… it’s right outside the door. I can see the smoke—”
He cuts me off. “We don’t have time to argue. I’m coming up. And I need you to do what I say. Exactly what I say. Okay?”
After another dry, hacking cough, I reply, “What do you want me to do?”
“I’m going to throw this rope up to the window,” he says.
“You’ll need to stand clear so it doesn’t hit you.
Once I get it though, I need you to position the hook on the windowsill.
Make sure the long part of the hook is flat against the wood and the tip of the hook is pointing down.
As soon as you get it into position, I’ll yank the rope to anchor the hook in place. Then I’m going to come up and get you.”
I look down at the flames stretching from the windows below me. “Mitch. You’ll get—”
“I have a fire blanket, Pen. And I know what I’m doing.” He pauses. Though it’s dark, and he’s at least twenty feet below me, I can tell his gaze is on mine. “Trust me. I will not let you down. I promise.”
There’s a part of me that still wants to argue with him. To tell him it’s far too dangerous. Remind him that his family and friends and his sweet dog, Duke, would be devastated if anything happened to him.
Then I think about how he’s never given me reason to doubt him, even in the beginning, when I was trying to find any reason to prove he was just like all the other men who’d betrayed me.
But he showed me, time and again, that I could trust him. Which is why I whisper, “Okay. I’ll do whatever you say.”
“Good.” He loops the rope over his shoulder. “I’m hanging up, Pen. Move to the side. The rope should come through soon.”
As soon as the call ends, I duck away from the window and crouch back down. The room is filled with smoke now, despite the window being wide open. Though I can’t see the fire, I swear I can hear it crackling just outside the door.
Is this a mistake? I can’t help but wonder. Should I have already jumped? Maybe Mitch could have set up some sort of cushion out there. Borrowed a mattress from a neighbor. Or—
A flash of metal comes flying through the window and hits the wall with a heavy thunk. I’m wound so tight, I screech with fear, even though Mitch told me what to expect. From outside, Mitch bellows, “The hook! Position it now!”
I fling myself at the window and snatch up the hook.
It’s mostly flat, but one end is curved with a sharp tip, which I assume is the part that’s supposed to dig into the wall.
Like Mitch instructed, I lay the flat part of the hook on the windowsill, making sure the point is angled at the wall beneath it.
Then I poke my head back out the window and call out loudly, “I did it!”
“Good,” Mitch shouts back. “I’m coming up!”
A second later, the rope jerks.
The tip of the hook digs in.
On the other side of the bathroom door, something falls.
My heart stutters.
Oh, God. What if he’s halfway up and the house collapses?
What if I get Mitch killed?
I lean out the window, half-convinced I should tell him to stop. I could try climbing down myself, if nothing else. Then if the building collapses, I’ll be the only one hurt.
But, to my shock, he’s already halfway up.
As he approaches the second floor window, he swings to the side to avoid the flames leaping from it. Sparks bounce off the blanket he has wrapped around his shoulders. Then he hoists himself up so he’s past the window, and continues his way to the third floor.
Though I’ve never been more terrified in my life—and that’s saying a lot, considering my ex held me at gunpoint and threatened to shoot me—I can’t help noticing how strong and confident Mitch looks as he moves.
He doesn’t hesitate. Doesn’t show a hint of fear.
His expression is nothing but absolute determination.
I guess I can see why people have a thing about firemen, I realize. I never thought about it much; to me, Mitch is just Mitch.
But watching him climb the wall of a burning building to rescue me?
Well. If I do get out of here, I’m going to make sure I tell him how sexy it is.
On the heels of that thought, Mitch’s head reaches the window. He gives me a quick once over, then says, “I need you to climb out, Pen. I’ll grab you. And then we’ll be back down in a blink.”
Just as he finishes, the house shifts.
And it’s not in the way people refer to old houses shifting with the changing temperatures. As in, the entire building sways to the side.
A tiny yip of fear escapes.
“Penny.” It’s rough. Urgent. “Move. Now.”
Yes. Move. Before the house falls and I get both of us killed.
Moving on uncoordinated legs, I start climbing through the window. Just as I get one leg over, another cough catches me, and I have to clutch the frame to keep from losing my balance.
“Come on,” Mitch says. He extends one arm out to me. “A little further, Pen. Then I’ve got you.”
Reassured by his nearness, I force the paralyzing fear aside and do as he asks.
Seconds later, his arm comes around me.
He hugs me against his chest and drapes the blanket around me, then asks, “You ready to get out of here?”
“Yes,” I croak. “Please.”
“Wrap your legs around my waist,” he says. “Hold on tight. This is going to be fast.”
I obligingly wrap my legs around him like a giant koala. “Okay.” And then, “Be careful.”
He doesn’t answer this time. Or maybe he does, but I can’t hear him over the sound of the flames as we zip past them.
My stomach lurches as we descend, reminding me of that time I went to Six Flags and almost threw up on the Daredevil’s Revenge. But at least then, I only felt like I was going to die. I didn’t think it was a real possibility.
Too terrified to look, I bury my face in Mitch’s neck and pray.
Let us both get out of this. But especially Mitch. Please.
Then we hit the ground hard enough to make my teeth clack together.
Before I can put my feet down, Mitch unclips the rope attached to his harness and starts running. He sprints away from the house, then veers to the left once he reaches the street, putting more distance between us and the inferno we just escaped.
Finally, he comes to a stop and carefully lowers me to the ground. The blanket falls from my shoulders. The crisp night air makes me shiver.
“Penny,” he says urgently. He touches my face. My arms. My hands. When he sees the burn on my palm, he hisses out a low curse. “Where else are you hurt? Can you tell me?”
I want to reassure him that I’m basically okay. That the burn on my hand will heal. That thanks to his advice, I avoided the worst of the smoke exposure. That thanks to him, I made it out in one piece.
But I don’t say any of those things. Instead, I look into Mitch’s worried brown eyes and burst into tears.
His face crumples. “Penny, sweetheart,” he croons as he hugs me to him. “It’s going to be okay. We’ll get you to the hospital, get you all fixed up—”
But a piercing siren drowns out the rest of his words.
And along with it, two firetrucks come roaring down the street, lights flashing.
As they pull to a stop and the first of the firefighters jumps out, Mitch calls out, “I need oxygen over here. Now!”
I tug on his shirt. “I think I’m okay.”
“No, you’re not,” he replies. He brushes the tears from my cheeks. His features are lined with worry. “You breathed in all that smoke. And your hand…”
“But I’m alive. Because of you.”
He closes his eyes for a moment. When he reopens them, guilt darkens his gaze. “It was too close. Too damn close.”
As a trio of firefighters closes in on us, I loop my arms around Mitch’s neck and press a kiss to his jaw. “But you made it in time.” I kiss him again. “You risked your life for me.”
He just stares at me for a second. Then he swallows hard. “Without question, Pen. I would do anything for you.”
Oh.
Why did it take so long to see what was right in front of me?
Tears fill my eyes again, but this time, it’s not from relief or fear.
It’s from knowing, finally, without a shadow of a doubt, that Mitch is the one I’ve been waiting for.