“Okay.” I manage to get my fingers to work to scoop the clean blanket around me, and I shiver. “Legs are numb.”
Suddenly, someone must have set up some kind of light in the room below because the attic is illuminated and cast in shadows from a bright light below.
I twist so I can see Brooks, and his face is …devastatedas he takes me in.
“God, baby, I want to scoop you up and get you the fuck out of here.”
He’s closer than I thought, and I stretch out, hoping he can hold my hand.
Brooks tries, but he’s about three inches too far away.
“I need you.” My lips tremble as I start to cry. “I need you to touch me.”
“I know, baby. The guys have to get a look at you from below so we can figure out how we’re going to get you out of here.”
There are flashing lights coming from outside, and my eyes widen.
“Bridger called in the fire trucks?”
“Probably an ambulance and some cops, too. Chase Wild’s been helping us find you. We made the girls stay outside, and they’renothappy about it.”
“I don’t want the pregnant girls in here,” I reply, shaking my head. “Brooks?”
“Yes, my love.”
“Can we have babies?” I press my lips together and look back to see his face. “I want babies. And we’re not getting younger, and I just?—”
“You want to talk about thisnow?”
“I’ve been thinking about it a lot.” My voice is a whisper.
“Wildfire, I’ll give you all the babies you want. Absolutely, let’s have a dozen kids, but we have to get you out of here first.”
I bite my lip, and then I hear a commotion below me.
“Okay, Jules, we have ladders down here,” Bridger says. “Beckett and I are going to be next to your legs and hips, trying to see how we can get you down. I hope these aren’t your favorite jeans because they’re torn to shit.”
“I can live without them. Thank you,” I call down to them.
But someone tries to move my injured leg, and it makes me cry out as pain lances through me.
“I’m going to dismember whoever just hurt my wife,” Brooks bellows. “Be careful down there!”
“They can’t help it,” I say while tears track down my cheeks. “It’s deep, Brooks. It’s really bad.”
“Hey. Wildfire, you look at me. It’s going to be okay. Do you hear me?”
“What if it’s not okay?”
“That’s not an option. Guys? How does it look down there?”
“We’re going to get a saw to get this wood that’s in her leg. Her hips are hung up on the two-by-fours on either side of her, which have not given out.”
“See? I have birthing hips. Saved my life. Or a broken leg,” I say, trying to lighten the mood, but Brooks’s face is mutinous.
“It’s not safe to pull her up into the attic,” he growls at his brothers.
“We can cut the wood around her hips and help her down,” Bridger says, his voice perfectly calm. “We’ll run the electricalacross the street from your house, like we did for this light. I had guys from the fire station bring our extra-long cords over.”
