One More Time

My first words were, “Lauren? Where is she?”

But the look on Jimmy's face told me everything I'd needed to know.

~ooo000ooo~

I woke with a start. Sweat covered every inch of my body as I stared at the clock. It was just after nine in the morning, and I'd only been asleep for three hours. Groaning loudly, I collapsed back on my bed and stared at the ceiling, my heart racing as I tried to forget about the dream.

More like, I tried to forget about the past.

It was hard – if not impossible – to do when you were in this line of work. I knew that I let myself get too close to some things and didn't keep the proper perspective. No matter what we did, no matter how right we did things, we weren't always going to be able to save everybody, every time.

We could do everything right and by the book and, still, people were going to die. It was the nature of the beast. It was a hazard and an unfortunate reality of the job I'd chosen to do. The life I'd dedicated myself to. I hated it with every fiber of my being, but it was what it was. It was reality.

Maybe Jimmy was right – I shouldn't have gone into the house. But, I'd been compelled to. I couldn't just sit outside and hope for the best. Couldn't let somebody else do my job. Couldn't let somebody else try to save her while I sat outside, where it was safe, with my thumb up my ass.

But Jimmy was right because no matter what I did, I couldn't save her. Couldn't have possibly done anything that would have changed the outcome. By the time we'd rolled up, it was already too late. He knew it. Tried to tell me, but I wouldn't listen. I just couldn't stand by, feeling utterly helpless and useless.

At least I could say that I tried. Tried to save her. Tried to do something. At least I could say that, even though I was going to have to live with the nightmares and the memory of my failure, for the rest of my goddamned life.

Feeling the familiar weight of depression hanging heavy upon my head, I swung my feet over the side of the bed and got up. No use trying to go back to sleep now, even though my body was exhausted. My mind wasn't going to let it happen. I knew the drill. Every time I'd close my eyes, the images would come roaring back to torment me. The images of one dead woman would dance on my eyelids like a horror movie straight out of the bowels of my own personal hell, playing out again and again on an endless goddamn loop. No matter what I did or how fast I moved, the ending would always remain the same. Always.

Lauren would always be dead.

Because I'd failed her.

I shouldn't have gone to work that day. It was my day off, a night when I was supposed to be with her. If I had stayed, I could have gotten her out of the burning house in time. If I'd stayed, I could have saved her and she'd be here with me today.

If only I'd stayed, I would have smelled the smoke. Would have known exactly what to do. The fire had started in the garage, directly under her bedroom. The exact cause was still unknown – a fact that didn't make me feel any better about it. If anything, it made me even more uneasy about what had happened.

Which was why I was getting more and more interested in Madison's podcast. She'd broached the subject of an arsonist preying on our city right before she was found inside a burning warehouse on the outskirts of town. Yeah, that wasn't fishy or anything. Not at all.

Thinking about Madison, I knew what I had to do. Maybe it would help the nightmares, maybe it wouldn't. Either way, it might save another life. I threw on some clothes and hurried out to my truck. The frigid Chicago air made it hurt to draw bre

ath, but I was still drenched in sweat from the dream, so the chill almost felt nice. Almost. Even I had my limits.

CHAPTER FOUR

MADISON

“There's someone here to see you,” Abigail, one of the nurses said as she popped her head into the door of my room. “Are you feeling up for a little company?”

“Who is it?” I asked.

My parents had just left, my sister wasn't in town, and my best friend was at work and would be stopping by later – all of which significantly narrowed down my potential visitors list. Knowing that, I had a feeling it might be more cops with even more questions.

To be frank, I wasn't feeling up to another round of questions. Abigail must have seen it on my face.

“It's the fireman who saved you,” she said with a grin. “Said he just wanted to see how you were doing but wasn't sure you were up to visitors.”

Oliver. Oh God, it was Oliver. No matter how I felt, he at least deserved a thank you. Turning somebody away who'd saved my life was a dick move. No matter how tired I was, refusing to see him and show a little appreciation was a total dick move.

“It's fine,” I said.

My throat was still raw and scratchy, but overall, I was starting to feel better. I'd had a few days of IVs, and doctors pumping all kinds of chemicals into my bloodstream, and I was starting to feel a little more human. Still couldn't remember much about the incident, but the doctors said to give it a few more days and that my memories should start coming back to me. They said my brain scans showed that I had a concussion and a minor brain bleed, but it was healing.

I was healing.

When Oliver stepped through the door, however, my breath caught in my throat. I wasn't prepared for the rush of endorphins that he brought out in me. Over the years since the last time I'd seen him, he'd grown quite a bit taller. He'd filled out too. Oliver Miller had always been an attractive boy but, now, I had to admit that he was an incredibly good-looking man.