I Surprised My Firefighter Husband at His Station for His Birthday – What His Captain Told Me Made My Stomach Drop

 

“How badly?” I asked.

Captain Reyes looked directly at me.

“He was conscious when they transported him.”

That wasn’t an answer.

“How badly?”

“There was a warehouse fire this morning. Part of the interior structure gave way.”

My mouth went dry.

Captain Reyes continued carefully.

“Tyler and two others were inside. They got everyone out, but Tyler took the worst of the impact.”

I pressed one hand against my chest.

“He called me this morning.”

“I know.”

“He sounded fine.”

“That was before the call.”

The room blurred for a second.

I remembered Tyler standing in our kitchen.

 

“Don’t do anything crazy today.”

His smile.

His bag over his shoulder.

“Love you.”

Those had been completely ordinary words.

Suddenly, they felt unbearably important.

“Why didn’t anyone call me?”

Captain Reyes’s face tightened.

“We tried.”

“No, you didn’t.”

“Amanda, we did.”

I grabbed my phone from my purse.

No missed calls.

No messages.

Nothing.

I held it up.

“There’s nothing here.”

Grant looked uncomfortable.

Captain Reyes frowned.

 

“What number do we have for you?”

I recited it.

He went still halfway through.

Then he looked toward the office.

“That’s not the number on Tyler’s emergency contact form.”

I stared at him.

“What?”

He repeated the last four digits.

They belonged to my old number.

The one I’d changed almost two years earlier.

For one ridiculous moment, I wanted to laugh.

Of all the paperwork Tyler remembered to complete, he had apparently forgotten the form that mattered most.

“You’re kidding.”

“I wish I were.”

I looked toward the doors.

“I need to go.”

 

Captain Reyes nodded.

“I’ll drive you.”

“No. I can drive.”

“You’re shaking.”

“I said I can drive.”

My voice cracked on the last word.

That ended the argument.

Grant placed the cake on the table.

The balloons were still tied around my wrist.

I stared at them.

Bright blue.

Silver.

Red.

“Happy Birthday” was printed across several of them.

They looked obscene now.

I untied them and left them beside the cake.

Captain Reyes handed me my keys.

“He’s in good hands.”

 

I nodded, though I barely heard him.

The drive to St. Matthew’s felt twice as long as the drive to the station.

Every red light seemed personal.

Every slow car made me angry.

I kept gripping the steering wheel and repeating the same thought.

He’s alive.

He’s alive.

He’s alive.

At the hospital, I practically ran through the emergency entrance.

The receptionist checked Tyler’s name and directed me upstairs.

I found him in a private room.

He was awake.

The moment I saw him, my legs almost gave out.

His left arm was strapped against his body.

There was a bandage near his hairline, and dark bruising had already started forming along one side of his face.

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