Prologue
Eric
You fucking dumbass!I berated myself while lying under the pile of rubble that had once been the second-floor roof of the factory building we’d entered.
“Harvard! Can you hear us?”
“Harvard, call out!”
I heard the anxious voices of the guys of my squad but couldn’t respond. They sounded so far away, and I was struggling to breathe. I attempted to push what I believed to be slabs of concrete off of me, but they barely budged and it made the pain in my abdomen so much worse.
Fuck!I yelled out in my head when another wave of white-hot pain radiated through my stomach, up my chest, and down my legs. I did my best not to tense up, knowing that’d only make the pain worse. Instead, I did the dumbest thing I could do—I reached up with my one free arm and removed my helmet and facemask. Tossing the cracked facemask down, I flipped my dented helmet upside down to see the picture I taped inside it months ago. In spite of the waves of agony emanating through my body, my lips spread into a smile causing even more pain. But I didn’t care. I needed to rest my eyes on her.
Angela.
My Angel.
The woman I kissed just a few hours ago, before rushing out the door to make it to the firehouse on time for my shift. I reached up to my mouth and bit down on my glove, pulling my hand free from it, so that I could better grab the picture. Plucking it from my helmet, I held the image closer to my face, only able to see clearly out of one eye. But I didn’t need to see to remember her beautiful face. Pecan brown skin, and shortly cropped dark brown curly hair with streaks of purple throughout. Big, doe-like tawny eyes that sparkled when she smiled, just as she was in this picture. A smile that spread across her face when she noticed me holding up my phone as she danced behind the bar serving drinks. That smile was just for me, and I captured it to carry with me always.
This was the woman who held my heart.
The woman I was supposed to marry in a few short months.
The woman I had lied to.
On our fourth date, I told her I would always be safe working at Rescue Four. Told her we were the best of the best, and if anything were to happen to me, those guys were coming in after me. I meant it when I said it. What I hadn’t told her was that there were no guarantees. Even the best of the best couldn’t prevent roofs from collapsing, or fires from surging. We tried. God knows we did everything in our power to try. But in the end, we weren’t the ones running the show.
I pulled the image to my chest as the sounds of the guys seemed to be drifting away. Either they were moving farther away, or I was falling into unconsciousness. Likely, it was the latter. My head felt woozy, but I kept the image of my smiling Angel close to my heart. I let out a moan when I thought about the Fire Department Chief showing up on Angela’s doorstep telling her that I died. No, they wouldn’t go to her doorstep. It was Tuesday, and at this time of day, she’d be at the bar, prepping to open.
Maybe they’d send the captain or Sean. I knew Sean would want to be the one to tell his sister the news.
And my parents. I wondered who would tell them. After seven years, they were just starting to come around to accepting my career, and here I was dying because of it. I hurt for them, too. But I didn’t have any regrets...no, that was a lie. I had one regret: I told Angela I wouldn’t get her pregnant until we were officially married. That was the dumbest shit I ever did. Now, she wouldn’t even have a child to remember me by. Just an engagement ring and six months of memories.
“I’m sorry, Angel,” I barely whispered right before my eyes closed one last time.
Chapter One
Eric
Stepping out of my red Ford Escape into the parking lot of my firehouse, I looked up and did the same thing I did every time I parked in the lot for my shift. My eyes scanned over the brick fire station and I read the lettering that spelled out “Rescue Four” on top of the building in big, gold letters. A usual warm, tingling feeling expanded in my chest. The sense of achievement I’ve felt for the last seven years flooded my body. More than half a decade on the job and this feeling never went away.
Instead of moving toward the door, I turned and went in the opposite direction, to theStarbucksacross the street. My second ritual of my morning shifts was heading to get coffee. I made my way to the street, checking for cars, and thanks to my long legs, within a few steps I was completely across. I held the door open for a female patron who was just coming out. Even with the two full cup holders in her hands, she eyed me up and down. Her pink-tinted lips spread into a seductive smile. I returned her stare with a smile of my own. After seven years, it still amused me how women responded to a man in uniform. Plus, I’m not too bad on the eyes, if I do say so myself.
“Thank you,” she stated airily.
“No thanks needed.” I winked and entered the door after she passed, pausing to get a view of her backside. When I finally stepped across the threshold, I could see her continue to eye me through the window. I took one last glance before heading to the counter to give my order.
“Oh, thank you, Mr. Fireman, sir,” I heard a mock girly voice in my right ear behind me.
My lips turned downward. “Fuck off, Don.”
“Ladies do love a man in uniform,” he laughed.
I turned to face him to do our usual handshake. Don stood just a hair short of my six-foot-two height. He, like me, was coming in to start a twelve-hour shift. We were on the schedule from nine a.m. to nine p.m. that day.
“You would know,” I responded to his earlier comment. “You’re the consummate playboy.”
“Consummate? Here you go using all those fancy words, Harvard.”
