Chapter 4 – Austin
The emergency lights from the fire trucks paint Michelle's face in alternating red and white as the paramedic checks her oxygen levels for the third time. Her eyes find mine across the chaos of the scene, and something pulls tight in my chest.
I can still feel her weight in my arms, the way she clung to me when we burst through the smoke. The memory is seared into my skin like a brand.
"I don't need to go to the hospital," Michelle insists, her voice ragged but determined. She pushes the oxygen mask away from her face. "I just want to go home."
"Protocol says—" the paramedic begins.
"She needs to be monitored," Paul cuts in, his captain's voice brooking no argument. "We'll take her to the station. Nathan can check her vitals, and we've got oxygen there."
The paramedic hesitates, glancing between them, then nods reluctantly. "Fine. But if her levels drop below ninety-five percent, she goes straight to the ER."
I take a step toward her, then stop myself. Paul's eyes flick to me, sharp and assessing. I force my hands to remain at my sides, though every instinct screams at me to go to her, to make sure she's really okay.
The ride back to the station passes in a blur. Michelle sits between Paul and Nathan in the rig while I stare out the window, hyperaware of her presence just feet away.
The smell of smoke clings to all of us, but beneath it, I catch traces of something else—clay, maybe, or the faint sweetness of her perfume. My fingers twitch with the memory of holding her.
When we arrive at the station, the crew moves with coordinated efficiency, like a single organism responding to an unspoken command. Nathan guides Michelle to a chair, his paramedic training evident in his gentle, clinical touch. Bradley appears with blankets, draping one around her shoulders with surprising tenderness for a man built like a linebacker.
"Vital check first," Nathan says, wrapping a blood pressure cuff around Michelle's arm. "Then we get you warmed up."
I hover at the edge of the room, uncertain where to place myself. My body aches to be closer to her, but I force myself to maintain distance. Paul hasn't said a word to me since we left the fire scene, but I can feel the tension radiating from him in waves.
"Oxygen's still at ninety-six," Nathan reports. "BP's a little elevated, but that's expected."
Logan appears with a steaming mug, his usual smirk softened into something gentler. "Hot tea with honey. My grandmother's cure for everything from a cold to a broken heart." He winks at Michelle. "Though I guess you're more of a coffee girl"
A small smile touches her lips, and the relief that floods through me is so intense it's almost painful. She's okay. She's really okay.
"I'll take anything that doesn't taste like smoke right now," she says, accepting the mug with both hands.
Arthur enters, his weathered face creased with concern. He places a bottle of water on the table beside her. "For after the tea. Need to keep hydrated with smoke exposure."
The entire crew forms a protective circle around her, each man finding ways to offer comfort without crowding her. It's what makes this team family, this instinct to close ranks around someone in need. I've seen it before with victims, with eachother, but never felt it so acutely as I do now, watching them care for Michelle.
"You should sit down too, Rivers," Arthur says, eyeing me critically. "You took in a fair amount of smoke yourself."
I shake my head. "I'm fine."
"He gave me his mask," Michelle says suddenly, her eyes finding mine across the room. "Inside the studio."
The room goes quiet.
"Standard procedure," I manage, though my voice sounds strange to my own ears.
"Like hell it is," Bradley mutters, but there's respect in his tone, not criticism.
Michelle coughs, a harsh sound that makes every muscle in my body tense. Nathan immediately checks her oxygen levels again, but she waves him off, taking a small sip of tea instead.
"You need to get that burn looked at," she says, nodding toward my neck.
I touch the spot absently, having forgotten about it completely. "It's nothing."
"It's not nothing," she insists, then looks at Nathan. "Can you—"
"On it," he says, already moving toward the first aid supplies.
