Crazy Hot Love (Dirty Dicks 2)

12

Claire

A tickle in my nose pulls me awake. I blink heavily against the florescent lights and swipe a hand across my face, but it gets caught on something plastic. I sit up in bed, pulling at the offending object.

Oxygen tubing?

Air hisses out of the nasal cannula. I stare at it, blinking, and then it hits me. The fire. I collapse against the pillows. My mind races to remember everything that happened, but it’s all fuzzy.

“You’re awake.” Mom rushes into the room and wraps me in her arms. “Oh, baby, I’ve been worried sick about you.” She kisses my forehead and my cheek, and then pulls back. “How do you feel?”

I take a deep breath and blow it out, taking stock of my body. Nothing feels out of the ordinary except a burning feeling at my forehead, but when I lift my hand, there’s no bandage, so I must’ve imagined it. A glance under the blanket shows my legs and arms intact and sans any sort of cast. “I think I’m okay. What day is it?”

She frowns. “Thursday. You were in and out all night. The doctors said you hit your head pretty hard, but they don’t believe you suffered a concussion, only smoke inhalation. You should make a full and quick recovery. But I think you took ten years off of my life. Thank God I hav

e Phil. He kept me sane through all of this.”

“I’m sorry, Mom.”

She shakes her head and blinks away tears. “Don’t be. You’re here, and you’re okay, and that’s all that matters. Do you remember what happened?”

“There was a fire.” Pressing my lips together, I close my eyes and try to access the details. As I talk, the fog starts to lift. “The fire alarms went off. We evacuated. I remember counting the kids and then…oh God!” I dart back up in bed. “The boys. Marcus and Troy.”

Mom holds my hand in hers. “Shhhh... It’s okay. The boys are okay.”

My eyes open. “They are? Are you sure?”

“I’m sure. They were kept overnight for smoke inhalation and released this morning. They’re doing great.”

Oh, thank God. My heart rate begins to slow and then kicks back up as the little details flood in.

I’m the reason the boys were in that situation.

When the fire alarms sounded, I hesitated. I shouldn’t have wavered even for a second, knowing lives could’ve been on the line—that’s something my dad taught me. Except I did. I let my guard down, and by the time I realized what was going on, all I could think about was getting the class to safety.

I wasn’t even thinking about the boys in the bathroom, not until I was already out of the building. I failed.

All of the kids made it out unharmed, and for that I should be happy. I am grateful. But that doesn’t erase the barrage of remorse. I put those kids’ lives at risk—especially the boys in the bathroom—and the thought of them getting hurt because of me makes my stomach churn. I am so much more than a teacher. When they’re with me, away from their parents, it’s my job to protect them. I failed them, and I also failed my father.

Be safe, Claire Bear. I hear his words in my head. But I wasn’t. I wasn’t safe. I didn’t heed his warnings and look at where that got us.

Squeezing my eyes shut, a soft sob pulls from my chest. Mom wraps me in her arms, holding me close.

“Oh, sweetheart. You’ve been through so much. I know how scary that must’ve been for you especially after…” Her words trail off.

Wiping my face, I look up. “After Daddy,” I say, finishing for her.

A wistful smile pulls at her lips. “You remind me so much of your father. You get your bravery from him.”

I swallow past the sour lump in my throat. I want so badly to tell her she’s wrong, that I wasn’t strong, and I didn’t act the way Daddy taught me to, but I can’t get the words out. I don’t want to disappoint her too.

“I’m not brave,” I manage, wiping the tears from my face.

Mom’s brows dip low. “Claire, you ran into a burning building to save two children. Most people would never do that. You put your life on the line to help someone else. If that isn’t being brave, I don’t know what is.”

Her words penetrate deep inside of me, causing a new wave of guilt and frustration. I could’ve died—the same way my father did. What would that have done to my mother? And Milo.

“Milo.”