Chapter 4
Rowan
A few minutes feelslike hours in situations like this. Ignoring the intense heat from the scattered areas of fire and the burden of my heavy gear, I work like hell to get Grace out from under that table. I can partially see it after clearing away everything that has fallen on and around it.
Honestly, it’s a miracle that she survived. The collapsed ceiling brought down everything from the above room. If she hadn’t been protected by her little coffee table, she’d be done for. I had to clear away a ton of furniture to get to her. Whoever lived in the above apartment must be a goddamn hoarder.
“Rowan?”
Every time she says my name, I feel this kick in my gut. I’m relieved to hear her voice, too. I get anxious when she goes quiet, and I never panic. But it’s the smoke inhalation that does people in more than the actual fire, and like she said, she’s been in here a while.
Frowning, I answer, “Yes?”
“Do you know if everyone made it out yet? I’ve been listening to you communicate with your team, but you guys keep talking in code.”
Again, a smile tugs at my lips. During my fourteen years on the job, I’ve never smiled while rescuing a victim. This is supposed to be serious business, but since the moment I walked in, the faceless Grace Lawson has been making me laugh. Standing in the middle of a burning building, I’ve smiled, laughed, and felt a surge of attraction in quick succession.
Incredible.
“I can’t say for sure yet.”
“I hope they have. There are a few older folks living here. I hope they made it out before things got bad.”
I could already tell Grace is made of pretty special stuff, but this confirms it. Her own life hangs in the balance, and she’s concerned about her neighbors. She’s sweet, funny, and young. There’s no way I’m going to let her die... even if it costs me my own life.
With the shit ton of furniture out of the way, I’ve only got pieces of plaster to clear away. I’m hit with surprise when Grace asks, “Rowan? Can I tell you a secret? Or two... maybe more?”
She sounds a little out of it, and I’m concerned. I should keep her talking. “Sure. Go ahead.”
“I figure I’d get some things off my chest in case... you know.”
My heart jolts. In case she dies? Not on my watch. Of course, I always want to save people, but I don’t think the feeling has ever been this intense before.
“When I was twelve, I stole my sister’s favorite cashmere sweater and poked holes into it.”
“Why?” I tear away a huge chunk of drywall.
“For being mean to me all the time. It was my first and only act of revenge. I didn’t like how it made me feel, so I never sought revenge for anything else. But I still carry around that guilt. It’s a relief to finally confess.”
I can’t help smiling. “Well, if that’s your greatest’s sin, you might as well be a saint, Grace.”
She laughs, but it doesn’t sound as airy as before. “Another confession—I’ve hated my life lately. Maybe that’s why this is happening—”
“Don’t go there. Who doesn’t like their lives at some point? It doesn’t mean anyone deserves to lose it.”
“So, you’ve had those moments?”
“Plenty.” I’ve opened up to this stranger more than I have to anyone in my entire life... and I haven’t even told her much.
“I’m a virgin.”
Getting distracted never helps in a rescue. I’ve been focused, keeping my eyes on our surroundings the entire time I’ve been chatting with Grace, but this announcement has me momentarily stunned. I only pause for a millisecond before getting back to work, though.
“Um... okay...” What the hell am I supposed to say to that?
“That’s right. I’m twenty-three and still holding on to my v-card. Pathetic, right?”
Jesus. Now I’m discussing her virginity with her. This entire ordeal is bizarre. “Er... no. There’s nothing wrong with waiting.”
The department hasn’t upgraded to too many new technologies yet, so I’m still using a two-way radio. It’s a good thing, or everyone else would be in on this amusing back and forth.
“That’s why my boyfriend dumped me. He said me not putting out after six months of dating wasn’t fair to him—his words. I felt pressured and, admittedly, I was a little glad he left. It still stung, though.”
“I’m sorry. He sounds like a dick.” Twenty-three-year-old virgins aren’t my thing—far from it—but who pushes a woman to have sex if she’s not ready? A massive dick, that’s who.
Grace snickers. “I thought he was. He’s with someone who’s putting out now, so... goody for him.”
My lips quirk. I’m usually more professional with my communication on the job, but Grace feels different. Hell, maybe we’ve already bonded because of the situation we’re in... I don’t know.
“Now I regret that I didn’t experience sex,” she slurs. “I hear it’s all the rage. Dying a virgin sucks.”
Her statements might have incited laughter if not for the way she sounds. As if she’s fading away... and she knows it.
“Grace?” I shout. The concern resonates in my tone.
No answer.
“Fuck.”