One kneels beside me, mask reflecting flame. “Ma’am? Can you hear me? Stay still.”
I cough so hard I can barely nod. Behind them, my father’s house is a torch. The roof collapses with a roar of sparks, an ember storm spiraling into the night.
Someone throws a blanket over my shoulders, but all I feel is heat, heat, heat.
I saved myself. By luck and instinct, I got out.
And as I stare at the inferno chewing my past to ash, one thought splinters the haze: this wasn’t an accident.
I lose time. Seconds, minutes—maybe hours—before an EMT is shining a light in my eyes, asking questions I barely register.
“Sarah!”My name tears raw from Cade’s throat.
He’s running—boots pounding the grass, shirt half-buttoned like he didn’t waste a second, hair wild, eyes blazing. He pushes past a firefighter who tries to stop him.
“Where is she? Where’s Sarah?”
I lift a hand and wave because words scrape my throat.
He sees me, and his face crumples—relief, fear, something deeper I can’t name. He drops to his knees beside the gurney, his big hands hovering like he’s afraid I’ll break.
“Jesus, Dove….” His voice is shredded as he shoulders the EMT aside and pulls me into him. “I thought…fuck…I thought I’d lost you.”
“Cade, she’s already not getting enough oxygen,” the EMT snaps. “Do you mind?”
Cade jerks back like I’m on fire. Before the EMT can reseat the mask, I rasp, “I’m fine.” I sound like a two-pack-a-day smoker, and I doubt Ilookfine—singed hair, soot-streaked skin, shaking like I’m in a blizzard even though I’m burning up.
The mask goes back on.
Cade steps close and, before the EMT can protest, cuts him off with a look. “I need a minute, Alvin.”
Alvin sighs, hands up. “She needs to wear that damn thing for as long as she can.”
I peel the mask back to cough. When I’m done, Cade gently presses it to my face again.
“You can’t keep doing this,” he says fiercely. “You can’t keep…. You’re in danger, Dove. Whoever’s after you—after us—just tried to burn you alive.” His jaw flexes. “You need protection. My protection.”
I try to pull the mask down to speak; he murmurs, “No.”
Then he softens when I flinch, cupping my soot-streaked cheek, thumb trembling.
“No more running, Sarah. You stay with me. At Blue Rock. I’ll keep you safe if it’s the last damn thing I do.”
The words sting hotter than the fire, because part of me wants to say yes, to sink into that promise, to let him carry the weight. But the scarred, wary part knows safety has always been a lie.
The fire rages on, eating my father’s house to the bones. Cade stares at it for a taut moment, then back at me.
“I already lost you once.” Tears track down his face, and his voice breaks. “I’m not letting that happen again.”
I don’t know what to say, so I breathe—slow, in and out—letting the oxygen soothe what it can.
Cade drives me to the fire station.
My truck—still impounded because of the dead-dog situation—is safe. Bodie’s, which I borrowed, is gone—burned with all my equipment. I’ll have to replace it. God knows how long it will take for insurance to be processed.
We sit on a wooden bench in the lobby. Cade sits close, arm draped along the backrest like a shield.
“You’re comin’ home with me after this,” he says, firmly, no room for argument. His eyes are wild—stormy blue that could level mountains.
