The kind where your face hurts and you can’t catch your breath.
Cole reached toward me with his uninjured hand.
I took it and bent over him.
“You scared me half to death.”
“I’m sorry.”
I kissed his forehead carefully.
“You should be.”
“I’m okay.”
“No, you are absolutely not okay.”
“I’m going to be.”
I looked at him.
That was different.
That was something I could believe.
“Fine,” I whispered. “You’re going to be.”
The doctor arrived not long afterward.
Cole had a fractured collarbone, several cracked ribs, a moderate concussion, and a deep cut near his hairline that required stitches.
No spinal injury.
No internal bleeding.
No surgery expected.
He would stay overnight for observation.
The doctor used phrases like fortunate, good outcome, and could have been significantly worse.
Every time he said one, I squeezed Cole’s hand harder.
Once we were alone again, Cole looked at me.
“How did you even find out?”
I stared at him.
“I went to your station.”
His face immediately changed.
“No.”
“Yes.”
“Megan.”
“I had a cake.”
He shut his eyes.
“Oh God.”
“And balloons.”
His mouth twitched.
“How many?”
“Enough to destroy your dignity.”
He gave a weak laugh and immediately grabbed his ribs.
“Don’t make me laugh.”
“You deserve pain.”
“That’s a terrible thing to say to an injured man.”
“I also bought you a trophy.”
He opened one eye.
“What kind of trophy?”
I folded my arms.
“World’s Most Stubborn Firefighter.”
He thought about it.
“That seems medically accurate.”
Despite everything, I laughed.
For a few minutes, the fear loosened its grip.
Then I remembered something.
Ortega’s face.
The strange way he had looked at me.
The question he had asked.
Nobody reached you?
But there had been something else behind it.
Something I hadn’t understood.
I looked at Cole.
“Your captain acted weird when I showed up.”
Cole went still.
“He told you about the collapse?”
“Yes.”
“But that wasn’t all of it.”
His eyes shifted toward the window.
There it was.
The look every married person recognizes instantly.
Guilt.
I leaned forward.
“Cole.”
He sighed.
“What?”
“What did you do?”
“Nothing.”
“Your face says otherwise.”
“My face currently has a concussion.”
“Cole Barrett.”
He stared at the blanket.
I waited.
Finally, he muttered,
“The building had supposedly been cleared.”
“Supposedly?”
He didn’t answer.
My stomach tightened again.
“What aren’t you telling me?”
PART 3
Cole was silent for several seconds.
Then he said,
“After the evacuation order came through, we started pulling out.”
I nodded slowly.
