I continued to pat her hand, glancing over to see the EMTs coming my way rolling a stretcher between them. I sat up and got away from her when they reached us, not wanting to but knowing I needed to give them space so they could work.
“She inhaled a lot of smoke,” I said, standing as they assessed her.
“What’s her name?” one of the EMTs, whose name tag said Matt, asked me.
“Savannah. Savannah Gilson.”
“Are you the husband? Boyfriend?”
“Neighbor,” I replied, though the word felt like a lie. “And her friend. A good friend.”
The EMT nodded, his expression softening. “We’re taking her to HPG. You know where that is?”
I nodded. Hidden Pines General was the largest hospital in our district.
“I’ll follow in my car,” I said.
“You aren’t working? Don’t you need to get that fire out?”
I shook my head, grasping the thick collar of the firefighter uniform. “No, I’m not on duty. I just wanted to help.”
I watched as they secured her onto the stretcher, placing an oxygen mask over her face. She hadn’t woken, and the sight of her stillness sent a pang of fear through me.
“You’re a hero,” one of the EMTs said as they loaded her into the ambulance. “We’ll update you at the hospital.”
“Thanks,” I murmured. “It’s Jackson. Jackson Murphy.”
He gave a quick nod before climbing into the ambulance, its doors closing with a thud that left me feeling unmoored.
As the ambulance pulled away, I sprinted back to my house, yanked off my gear, changed, and grabbed my keys. The smell of smoke clung to me, but I didn’t care, no time for a shower.
The drive to the hospital was a blur.What if Savannah died on the way?The thought nearly crippled me. I gripped the steering wheel as I drove, muttering prayers under my breath. I had to stop myself from having those negative thoughts. She needed me.
I realized I needed to call Marcus. Frustration bubbled up as Marcus didn’t answer my call.Where are you, man?I left him a voice message, I will follow up with a text when I get to the hospital.
The hospital loomed ahead, its bright lights piercing the early morning gloom. It was nearing seven in the morning. I had a feeling maybe we’d been watched last night and Roger waited several hours after I’d gone home.
That way he’d know we were both probably well asleep. I had to contain my anger. Right now, there was no one to take it out on.
I parked hastily and rushed inside, the sterile smell of antiseptic hitting me as I entered the lobby.The receptionist barely looked up when I approached. “How can I help you?”
“I’m here for Savannah Gibson. She was just brought in from a house fire.”
Her eyes flicked to her screen. “Are you family?”
“No,” I said, my voice tight. “I’m the one who rescued her.”
Her lips thinned. “You’re not a priority visitor. You’ll need to fill out this form and wait.”
Frustration flared, but her tone was calm, unwavering. Grudgingly, I scribbled my information and slumped into a chair.
The minutes crawled by, each one heavier than the last. Unable to sit still, I paced the lobby, glancing at every nurse anddoctor who passed. Finally, I wandered down one of the halls, peeking into rooms until I found her.
Savannah.
She was lying in bed, her face pale but peaceful. My breath caught as I stepped closer, her features clearer now that the soot had been cleaned away. Her eyes fluttered open, and when they met mine, her whole face softened.
She pulled the mask away from her mouth and nose just long enough to whisper, Jackson. She pointed at her throat.
