Page 47 of Falling Embers

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It was a cowardly move. But I couldn’t go where the current conversation was headed.

Calder released his hold on my leg, sinking back farther into the pillows. “Nothing yet. But I had a conversation with the girls last night and let them know she was in town.”

“How’d they take it?”

“How you’d expect. Birdie stormed off and slammed her bedroom door. Sage got really quiet.”

“I hate that they have to go through this.”

Calder’s jaw worked back and forth. “Me, too. Jackie has always had a selfish streak.”

One that Calder had constantly looked past. There might’ve been issues in their marriage, but there clearly had been passion, too. The proprietary way Jackie had latched onto Calder any time another woman came near told me that she had something to fight for.

Calder toyed with a zipper on one of the couch’s throw pillows. “I’ll have to talk to her at some point. I’m just not sure I’m ready for it.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Not your fault.”

“Doesn’t mean I can’t be sorry that you’re going through it.”

An alarm cut through the air, and lights above flashed red. “Structure fire.” More tones sounded. “Structure fire.”

We were on our feet in a flash. Calder pulled out his phone, skimming the readout. “Burn pile. Jumped to the house.”

“Shit, man,” McNally said as we all hurried towards the bays. “It’s too late in the season to be burning.”

The weather had already turned warm. The last thing anyone needed was a forest fire.

Calder yelled out the address to Mac, Jones, and Wilson. “Gear up.”

I hurried to our rig as Jones climbed behind the wheel. The bay doors were already sliding open, and the alert lights outside were on.

Jones started her up. “Ready to rock and roll?”

“You know it.”

In seconds, we were pulling out and speeding towards the scene, sirens blaring. The fire trucks were hot on our heels.

I caught sight of the smoke before we even turned on to the residence’s road. “Hell, this isn’t good.”

“No, it’s not.”

Jones pulled the ambulance to the shoulder, leaving lots of room for the fire rigs as the house came into view. It was almost entirely engulfed. A man was crumpled on the front lawn, clutching his chest.

I grabbed my gear bag and jumped out, running towards him. “Sir, tell me what hurts.”

“My-my wife, she’s inside. She was taking a nap. Wasn’t feeling well. I gotta go get her.”

“Sir, the firefighters are here. They’re going to help.”

“Please, my wife.”

My fingers moved to check his pulse; it was way too high. “The best thing you can do for your wife right now is to help yourself.”

Wilson hopped from one of the fire trucks, yelling over to me as she went for one of the hoses. “Anyone inside?”

“One adult female,” I called. “Where’s the bedroom?” I asked the man.


Tags: Catherine Cowles Tattered & Torn Romance