Total pages in book: 68
Estimated words: 64765 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 324(@200wpm)___ 259(@250wpm)___ 216(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 64765 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 324(@200wpm)___ 259(@250wpm)___ 216(@300wpm)
“He doesn’t need to hear all that as soon as he opens his eyes.” That was Rory’s partner, David.
Nice guy. Wrong, but nice.
Then he heard her. It didn’t sound like she was in his head anymore.
“That’s the first thing he’d want to know,” Fiona insisted from somewhere out of sight. “It’s Noah.”
Fiona was here?
Wyatt tried to lift his head to look for her, reaching up to pull off the cumbersome oxygen mask that felt like it was turned on to hurricane as it forced air into his lungs, but he got tangled in the IV tubes attached to his arm long enough for Rory to intercept him. “You need to keep the Darth Vader ensemble on, young man. She’s right here. And you can’t talk now, so don’t even try. Do you know how seriously pissed I am that I can’t even tease you about being forced to finally shut up? I have a million zingers about gossiping firemen and phone trees, and I can’t use them yet because you and Noah both nearly got yourselves killed.”
Wait. Was Rory crying? About him? He glanced at David, concern for his brother making him more alert with every passing moment. Why wasn’t he doing anything about that? Wasn’t that a husband’s job? Hadn’t his brother been through enough?
“I’ve got him, Wyatt.” David wrapped both his arms around his brother with an understanding smile and Rory curled into him in obvious relief. Then Fiona was right beside them.
There she is.
Her hand replaced Rory’s and Wyatt felt something inside him relax for the first time in weeks. She looked tired. Different. Her hair wasn’t awash in bright colors anymore. It was a rich brown with a little red in it, pulled back into her favorite sloppy ponytail. But it was still her. Still his girl.
“Hey there, firecracker,” she said, smiling down at him as if she couldn’t see all the tubes and machines attached to him. “Glad to see those baby blues again.”
She’d come back from California. When? Why?
He tried to tell her with his eyes, with the still-weak squeeze of his hand how happy he was to see her. How he’d heard her voice in the fire and it helped him keep going. Helped him get his brother out of there.
“You’ll have time to talk later,” she assured him in that low, sensual voice that made him think of linen sheets and soft skin. “It’s our turn now. You’ve been asleep for a day and a half. We missed you and you missed all the fun. The whole Finn clan was here that first night, and through most of yesterday until people started to complain about the noise.”
Her smile invited him to join in on the joke. He knew exactly how much chaos his family could cause. He’d usually been one of the guys in the waiting room being shushed.
“They wouldn’t leave until shifts and schedules were organized for the rest of the week,” he heard David add, though Wyatt refused take his eyes off Fiona in case she disappeared. “We think that’s how long you’ll be here. We don’t know about Noah yet. It depends on how the skin grafts go and what procedures they decide on next.”
Skin grafts? A day and a half? Wyatt frowned. He needed to see his brother.
Fiona stroked his knuckles with her fingers. Soothing him. “A little bird told us you gave Noah your mask while you were getting him out of there. They said you were lucky to be alive.”
“They said that more than once, Wyatt.” Rory leaned in beside Fiona with a scowl, his eyes still bright. “Damn lucky, were their exact words.”
He figured it was something like that. Smoke inhalation was no joke, he knew from experience, as well as from the regular refreshers the captain put them through at the station. He’d seen people stuck in fires a lot longer than he was who had nothing more than a sore throat and mild cough, but he’d also found the bodies of people who’d died from breathing in gas they couldn’t even smell. Which was the reason masks were a mandatory part of their gear.
It couldn’t be helped. Noah had needed it more than he had. And there’d been no way for him to know he’d be caught in that stairwell.
So much for visualization, Fi, he thought, looking up at her again.
Still there. Thank Christ.
He sighed, suddenly realizing how thirsty he was. A-week-in-the-desert-with-no-water thirsty. That’s what this felt like. His tongue was dry and his lips were sticking to his teeth. He tried to swallow, hoping that would help create some moisture, but the discomfort the simple action caused made him moan.
Big mistake.
The involuntary sound had him coughing painfully, wrenching his hand from Fiona and ripping off the mask before anyone could stop him so he could hack up what tasted like burned trash and poison. He curled on his side, clinging to the bed while his body spasmed and shook with each heaving cough.