Total pages in book: 48
Estimated words: 46257 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 231(@200wpm)___ 185(@250wpm)___ 154(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 46257 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 231(@200wpm)___ 185(@250wpm)___ 154(@300wpm)
The familiar odor of burning fabric and chemicals filling the air catches in my throat, telling me that going inside without my gear and serious backup would be madness. But I can’t just stand and watch like a regular passerby either.
I make my way through the small crowd, identifying myself as a fire department officer.
Someone quips about my lack of a fire truck and other firefighters, but I ignore them.
The shouts and commotion from the east corner are where I’m headed.
And by the looks, so is that next wave of flames.
“Bridget! Bridget, just hang tight…we can hear the fire trucks coming,” someone calls up to her.
Looking up, I groan. Then growl.
Bridget.
A name for this feeling.
The reason I’ve waited for so long in this life to share it with.
It’s her alright, from this morning. Dammit! I knew I shoulda done something about this feeling earlier.
Seeing her all the way up there, helplessly clinging to a stone pillar.
I shake my damned head.
This ends right now.
Shoulda just followed her in this morning… shoulda, coulda, woulda. Famous last fucking words, Ash. Just don’t fuck it up this time.
This time I plan to stake my claim on what I know is mine. No more walking away or pretending she’s not the one.
Moving what I assume are her co-workers back, I don’t need to say a word. Just open my arms and start moving toward them.
The look in my eyes says everything. But I guess my uniform under my jacket is still some sign of a guy who knows what he’s doing too.
I turn and look up again, our eyes locking instantly.
My mouth crimps when I see her crying, tears streaked with soot and fear.
Her mouth opens silently, trying to say something.
But I already know.
Ash is here, Bridget. And he’s gonna get you outta this.
“Bridget?” I call up to her. “I’m Ash. I’m with the fire department. We’re gonna get you down. I just need you to stay right where you are and try and stay calm for me, okay?” I tell her.
Noticing her instantly relax, my eyes never leave hers as I breathe a little easier myself knowing that there are only three floors and maybe a couple of decades in age separating us now, not thirty miles.
Not the agony of not knowing if I’ll ever see her again after glimpsing her earlier this morning.
“Hi,” she sniffs, wiping her eye with a free hand and acting natural. “Bridget,” she adds, suddenly gripping the pillar with both hands again once she remembers where she is.
God, she’s perfect.
The drone of a single fire truck’s siren winding down lets me know at least some backup’s arrived, but without a reach arm or jump mat and crew to man it, it’ll be useless.
The truck parks closest to the hydrant on the street, and Stack’s gray, stony look catches my own as he pulls up. A few familiar faces pour from the truck, setting up a couple of hoses and getting to work on the blaze, but it’s clearly not enough.
I know Stack’s annoyed I’m here, and not just because I got here first. But there’s something else in his eyes as he scans the scene unfolding rapidly in front of him.
“Bridget?” I call up to her again, my voice breaking with the emotion I feel.
My feelings for her, as well as the situation.
“Help’s on its way, but you need to prepare yourself to jump,” I tell her.
There’s simply no other way right now, let alone time to waste.
Her face twists, and she grips the pillar even tighter.
A look of betrayal somehow flashes in her eyes as they narrow.
She’s shaking her head.
Nobody ever wants to jump, and sometimes they don’t. But, on the other hand, I’ve seen plenty of people jump when they didn’t have to. And there are no winners either way in those situations.
“You again,” Stack growls from where he’s unfolding an ancient-looking canvas tarp from the truck.
I’m torn between focusing on Bridget and explaining the situation to my chief, helping him with his plan. But I know what he’s thinking.
Apart from me, who’s not even supposed to be here, he knows the only way for Bridget is down and fast. He’s using whatever he has on board to help make that happen.
“The lift unit and three other engines are stuck in traffic. It’ll be at least ten minutes,” he barks, urging me with his eyes to move to help him.
Two guys, okay four if some men down hoses to hold the tarp so she can jump.
It should work, but I know that look when someone’s not gonna jump, even to save their own life.
And as much as it cuts me up, I can see Bridget’s fear and hesitation spelling it out long before she says it.
“No!” she cries out, lifting her head to the sky, shaking her head, and crimping her mouth like a spoiled child.