My chest aches at the sound of my name in her voice.
“I need you to listen,” I say, dropping to one knee beside them. “You did a brave thing, but now you’re going to let me help, okay?”
Daisy nods rapidly. “They couldn’t walk,” she blurts. “They fell and they were crying.”
“I know,” I say, keeping my voice calm. “You did good. Now we get all of you out.”
Kendrick moves to the injured kid, lifting them carefully. Justin stays near the door, scanning for flare-ups.
I turn back to Daisy. Her cough is worse than last time. Her small chest rises too fast.
Fear punches me in the gut.
I scoop her up, tucking her against my chest the same way I did in the house fire. She clings to my jacket immediately, fingers tight.
“I’m here,” I murmur into her hair. “I’ve got you.”
We move out fast, low under the smoke, the hallway a tunnel of heat and noise.
For one awful second, a beam creaks overhead and my heart stops.
Then we’re clear.
Cold air hits us like mercy.
Outside, Abby is already running, her face crumpling as soon as she sees Daisy in my arms.
I don’t even make it to the medics before Abby reaches us, hands shaking as she grabs Daisy’s blanket, her voice breaking on her name.
Daisy coughs and then, unbelievably, tries to smile.
“Mom,” she wheezes, proud even now, “I saved someone.”
Abby presses her face to Daisy’s hair, sobbing. “You saved me,” she whispers. “You saved me.”
Then Abby looks up at me.
Her eyes are wet. Her face is streaked with tears and winter air. Her hands grip my jacket like she’s afraid I’ll vanish if she lets go.
I’m shaking too, adrenaline and terror crashing out of me all at once.
“I was so scared,” she says, voice raw. “I was so scared.”
“I know,” I whisper.
I want to tell her I was scared too. That for a second in that hallway, my entire world narrowed to a daisy clip and the thought that I might not get her out in time.
But I can’t speak. My throat won’t let me.
Instead I pull Abby into me, right there in front of everyone, careful not to crush Daisy between us, and Abby goes willingly, collapsing against my chest as if her body finally believes what her mind keeps refusing.
I hold her.
I hold them both.
And in that moment, I know something with bone-deep certainty.
Walking away would destroy all of us.
