“Thank you.”
“You’re very welcome.” He stands.
“Are you going to be taking care of her?”
“Dr. Davenport requested to have her transferred to his care.”
That feels…awkward.
“He’s very experienced with burns,” the surgeon says. “Very capable of managing her care.”
“Okay. I guess that’s fine. Can I see her before we leave?”
“Of course. Come with me.”
As far as outward appearance goes, Mom looks much the way she did when we brought her in, but cleaner. Her right arm is covered in fresh gauze, and the only burns I see are on her neck and jaw, red and angry.
I give her a kiss on her forehead before transport takes her to her room.
I’m emotionally wrung out by the time Cole and I reach his truck in the hospital parking lot. I don’t even realize his truck shouldn’t be here until he opens the passenger’s door for me.
“How’d your truck get here?”
“A couple of the guys brought it by. They also dropped your car at home.”
“That was nice.”
We rehash the information on the way home, helping the situation sink in. Mom will recover. She’ll regain the use of her arm. We have insurance on the café. Even though our lives look different now than they did this morning, at least I still have my mom and an idea of what will encompass this new reality.
By the time Cole pulls into the driveway of my little house, numbness has layered over grief and pain and fear and loss. When the ticking sound of the cooling engine interrupts my sluggish brain, I look at Cole. The thought of being alone makes me feel hollow.
“Do you have to go back to work?” I ask him.
“No. Carter’s covering for me.”
“Want to come in? I can put some dinner together.” Just the idea exhausts me, so I amend, “Or I could pull out the coconut cream pie I was saving to give you when I was going to ask you to help on the renovation, add two forks, a bottle of wine, and some mindless reality TV.”
He drops his head back and laughs a groan. The sight and sound skitters through my body, tapping every nerve like a pinball. “A night straight from heaven. I’m totally in.”
“We can even watch Deadliest Catch. Or whatever your favorite is now. I don’t know what you watch anymore.”
He rolls his head on the seat until his gaze meets mine. “I still love Deadliest Catch.”
“Nice to know some things don’t change.”
We just stay like that as the moment stretches, gazes locked. We aren’t exactly talking without words, but there’s definitely emotions moving around in the space between us.
I break the connection first, letting go of all the painful thoughts and hard decisions that swamp my life right now so my mind can rest.
Even as we approach the front door, something about the house seems different. The blinds are open, but I know I didn’t stop to open them this morning. As soon as I open the door, I smell the scent of cleaning supplies. I flip on the light and find my living room clean, everything tucked neatly into place, the carpet holding vacuum marks.
I instinctively know I’ll find the rest of my house just as organized, just as clean. I know I’ll find my fridge stocked with home-cooked meals and my laundry done. I know because this is exactly what I would do for another member of the firefighting family in this situation.
Cole. Cole did this for me. Cole and all his phone calls from the hospital.
Emotion swamps me out of nowhere, and the crack breaks the dam, allowing all the built-up emotions to flood in. My breathing stutters; a vise grips my chest. I cover my face with my hands and break into sobs. Racking, uncontrollable sobs.
Cole wraps me in his arms as waves of grief cut through me—for all Mom and I have lost, for all we still have yet to get through, for all her suffering.
I have no idea how long I cry, but I feel utterly gutted by the time the sobs ebb. If Cole wasn’t holding me up, I’d be on my knees. He’s got one arm around my waist, the other bracing my head against his shoulder. Even if I wanted to put space between us, I can’t. There’s only so much one person can handle alone. Only so much anyone should have to handle alone.
He bends and picks me up, much the way he carried my mom to the ambulance, and drops to a seat on the sofa. We spend long, quiet minutes, my cheek against his shoulder, his arm across my thighs. Having him in this with me helps me lean into relaxation. I use my shirt to dry my face and take a few slow, deep breaths to get myself together. “I know I bitched at you last night about being…”
“Distant? Cold? Emotionally unavailable?”
“Dramatic,” I tease. “But, seriously, I don’t know what I would have done without you all this time.”
“You’d have been just fine. You’re the strongest woman I know.”
I want to stay like this all night. He’s warm and strong and sweet. I long for this in my life every day. I ache from being alone.
Calmer now, I find my feet and head into the kitchen. When I open the fridge door, Cole lets out a low whistle between his teeth.
“I’m sure these are restaurant-worthy meals,” I say. “Do you still want pie for dinner?”
“I so still want pie for dinner.”
I laugh, and the words I love you fill my chest and rise to my mouth. I barely catch them before they come out. I mean them as more of a you’re adorable sentiment. The feelings associated with those words are warmth and appreciation and affection, but they could easily be misconstrued—by both of us.
Cole handles the wine, I handle the pie, and we meet back in the living room. Cole moves the ottoman for the sofa next to the lounge section so we can kick back together. I ease into the corner, focused on not spilling the pie. Cole sits beside me with the remote, finds Deadliest Catch reruns on Discovery, and we settle in.
The show is just a tool to unwind and decompress for me, a way to let my mind rest while distracted by something else.
Twice I take out my phone to google burn information, and twice Cole takes it away. He currently still has it, so I just let my gaze blur over the television and soak in the supportive feeling of having Cole with me. One less night spent alone.
The smoke is as thick as syrup. I move through it like a vertical swimmer. “Mom! Where are you?”
My call is swallowed by the opaque gray clouds, and my lungs feel like a bog.
Just when I think I’ll suffocate, the clouds part to a wall of flames, roiling among themselves, slithering like snakes. The heat is unbearable, and the fire shoots out, shaving the skin off my body layer by layer.
I twist and turn to get away, but the smoke wraps around me like tentacles. I call for Mom again, but no sound comes out of my mouth. Talons of fear rip at my heart.
Then my mom appears. Just steps right out of the smoke. Her face is emotionless, her arm ablaze. Evan is next, standing behind my mom, but he’s not on fire. He reaches into the smoke and drags Cole out. He’s got a viselike grip on the back of Cole’s neck, and I know without anyone speaking that Evan is going to throw Cole into the fire, this time to burn.
“No!” I lunge for Evan, reaching for his arm to break his hold on Cole.
“It’s okay,” Cole says. “I’m right here.”