Chapter 3
Grace
I refuse to give uphope. If I call for help, there’s a chance people who might still be vacating the building will hear me. But after what feels like an eternity, though I know it’s only been about a minute, my hope dwindles.
Smoke is invading my enclosed space, and it’s getting hot as hell. The heat is almost hindering my breathing as much as the smoke, making it impossible for me to shout anymore. So, that’s it. This is the end for me.
Then, something miraculous happens.
There’s a thud that I can’t make out the source of before a male voice booms, “Is anyone in here?”
My heart soars and I gasp. Big mistake because I only take in more smoke. Coughing, I force out, “Yes! I’m here. Please, help me. I’m trapped.”
There’s more thudding and creaking, as if heavy objects are being moved or smashed. My savior introduces himself as a firefighter, which brings me great relief. I latch onto his voice like a lifeline, feeling hope flicker back to life. He says something—numbers, a code?—and I hear another voice respond over a radio.
I’m not sure what he just communicated to who I guess are his colleagues, but I can guess it’s somewhere along the lines of: I’ve found a victim and she’s in deep shit.
“Hold on, ma’am. I’ll get you out.”
Maybe it’s the fear and adrenaline surging through my system that make my response so unlikely. But I burst into giggles.
“Are you... laughing, ma’am?”
I’m still surrounded by debris, so I can’t see an inch of my hero and he can’t see me. I do hear the confusion in his voice, though.
Between giggles, I tell him, “Don’t mind me, Mr. Firefighter. I might be out of my mind with fear, or maybe it’s my decreasing oxygen level, but it tickles me that you keep calling me ma’am. I’ve never considered myself to be a ma’am.”
There’s unmistakable laughter and my god, what an incredible sound. The honey-like quality of the firefighter’s voice snagged my attention the moment I heard it. Not just because he’s here to save me, but because it sounds so alluring.
“I’m sorry. What’s your name?” he asks.
There’s another thumping noise that makes me jump, but I reply, “Grace. Grace Lawson.”
“That’s a pretty name.”
I smile because I think he’s just being nice. It’s simple, common.
“I’m Rowan,” he says. “But everyone calls me Row.”
It sounds as if he’s hammering away at something, so I wait for the noise to die down. “It’s nice to meet you, Rowan. Although I wish we’d met under better circumstances.”
“Me too.”
I start coughing again, so hard it feels like I’ll choke up my lungs.
“Hang in there, Grace,” Rowan says with a little more urgency in his voice. I hear him mutter a curse. “Can you tell me your setup under there?”
“Um... I’m under a table. I hid under it when I realized the roof was caving in.”
“Okay, that’s good. I’m chopping my way through debris here, and I don’t want to accidentally hurt you.”
Right now, I don’t care about a few injuries. That’s better than not making it out of here at all. I hear another crash and try not to panic. To do that, I close my eyes and hold on to Rowan’s voice. It sounds absolutely dreamy. Made for whispering sweet words in a woman’s ears. I bet he’s hot. Being a firefighter, he’s probably built like a god.
“Grace, talk to me. How are you doing under there?”
My eyes fly open guiltily. If I wasn’t already so damn hot from the flames, my face would probably flush. He’s working hard to save my life and I’m lusting over him... and I haven’t even seen him. Do people go crazy from fear? Because I must be losing my mind. “I’m okay, but I could be better...”
“I bet,” he says. “I’d go faster with a little help, but my team is... dealing with something.”
I heard the back and forth over the radio and made out what I could. It sounded as if they’d found someone else in a stickier situation than mine. My heart goes out to that victim. I’m friendly with most of my neighbors and I’d hate for any of them to be in the position I am now or worse.
I try to take a calming breath, but it doesn’t work. The heat is really on another level. I’m even feeling drowsy, and that isn’t a good sign. Will Rowan get me out, or will he have to eventually give up and leave me? The thought has me nearly hyperventilating and I can’t afford that right now.
“Rowan, tell me something about yourself. Just talk to me, so I don’t completely freak out under here.”
Chopping and thumps proceed his response. “I’ve been in this job for a long time.”
I smile at the reluctance in his voice. Something tells me Rowan isn’t much of a talker or sharer, but he’s trying to humor me to keep me calm. It’s sweet of him. “That’s very comforting to me right now. I’m glad you’re not a rookie.”
He grunts.
“How old are you?”
“Old,” comes the gruff response.
I chuckle. “You don’t sound old.”
He shares in my amusement with a little laugh. “I just turned thirty-nine.”
“I’m twenty-three,” I volunteer. And I really don’t want to die just yet, I silently add. Rowan doesn’t respond and I panic. “A-are you still there?”
“I’m here. Relax, Grace... well, as best you can in your circumstance.”
He sounds so calm, and it soothes me. “What else can you tell me about yourself?”
“There’s nothing much to tell.” He grunts again as if he’s lifting something heavy.
Guilt overwhelms me. The man is trying to focus on saving my ass and I’m forcing him to chat. I just need to hear him, or I don’t think I’ll be able to keep it together. And I’ve heard that panicking can make you die faster.
“I’m sorry for being a Chatty Cathy, but I—”
“It’s okay... Chatty Cathy.”