Kendall stays on my shoulder, but the added weight sinks me farther. I can’t breathe. She’s not talking, and I doubt she’s conscious by the limp weight on my shoulders. With adetermination that comes from a place I’ve never tapped, I pull myself up and out of the floor. There is blood. There is a broken bone in my foot, too. I can feel the bite of pain and the wetness. The roof next to us collapses, and it rains down fire on our exposed skin.
Haphazardly, I wobble forward, because I know our time is limited. We’re going to die here. All of us. The stairs aren’t safe if the roof is caving in and support beams are falling. Flames lick up from every angle, but I make it down using the handrail and balance I didn’t know I possessed. I blow out the front door and collapse into a heap on the sidewalk. Just Kendall and me.
Funny time for my lungs to give out now that they finally have an oxygen source. The last thing I remember is someone putting an oxygen mask on my face and the fuzzy sight of Kendall being loaded into an ambulance. I’d tell someone to go get Magnolia, that I need to go back in, but my vocal cords don’t work, and my brain can’t form words.
No one knows she’s in there burning alive.
Burning for love.
I come to in the hospital, with two men staring down at me—speaking words that echo before settling on the correct syllables. Nothing makes sense. Couldn’t tell you if minutes have passed, hours, or days, only that my chest hurts and anytime I breathe, a pain slices my throat like a machete. I’m repeating one word on autopilot. “Magnolia.” Or at least, that’s what I’m trying to say, and I’m not sure they can decipher it with the mask on my face. I make a move to take off the mask, but they hold my arms down.
My muscles, those bastards I work so hard for, fail me when it matters most. The nurse’s grip feels like a vise grip. I kick, trying to find purchase to sit up, but a new pain slides up my body, beginning on the left leg. A coolness spreads up my arm stemming from my elbow. Blackness overtakes my senses. In a half-dream, half-reality state, I envision another alternative to the disaster. When I run into the fiery house, I’m able to save them both because I didn’t stop to talk to Polly, who wasn’t a good guy. I tossed her a cocky one-liner about one-night stands, and I leave her in the dust. When I get to the antique store, I have time to tell Magnolia how much I love her, and rescuing them both takes mere seconds.Heat doesn’t exist in my dream scenario, neither does smoke that suffocates. It’s just us and the simplicity of knowing we’re all safe and will remain so for the rest of time. The knowledge of the lies I’m telling myself begins to prick the dream, like pinholes letting in light where it shouldn’t be. More and more of the truths seep in. Horrible, life-altering truths I’m not sure how I’ll live with. My body jerks, and I’m back in my dim reality, unable to accept the truth.
I have no gear. No fancy, cutting-edge armor to protect me in this mission. My brothers aren’t standing by or covering my six. It’s hard to make sense of what has happened when the loneliness haunts me so pervasively.
Magnolia is gone, and I’m the one who failed to save her.
SEVENTEEN
Aidan
It feelslike the whole town is at her funeral. It’s standing room only in the old Baptist Church. I lean my back against the wall, keeping my palms pressed on the chair rail to stay grounded, so I don’t do anything stupid. My brothers are beside me, finally. We are a team, standing watch as the service rolls on. Kendall catches my eye briefly before dabbing a tissue against her eyes and refocusing her attention on the front of the church. My stomach lurches when I hear my name mentioned again. They call me a hero. A person in the right place at the right time. A brave, selfless man who saved Kendall’s life. They said had I not taken her out of the building when I did, she wouldn’t have made it—the smoke inhalation would have claimed her life. She recovered quickly, as young people tend to do, in and out of the hospital in a few days. As the speaker drones on, I turn my gaze to my feet, the left one in a brace from the foot sprain that I thought was a break in my smoke-induced haze. The words are meaningless when my soul is screamingfailureevery other heartbeat.
Saving Kendall wasn’t enough. I am of the most elite class of individuals—so few can compete at my level. Not even professional athletes, and yet I couldn’t save Magnolia. No one would ever dare ask me out loud. But I see the questions in their eyes.You couldn’t save them both? Why didn’t you save them both? Why didn’t you take Magnolia out of the shop and go back in for Kendall? You’re a SEAL. You could have saved them both. Why? Why?I won’t say it was impossible, because if I had been on time, I could have had them out of there in no time flat. Blaming Polly got me nowhere. Blaming Leo didn’t either. The string of decisions and choices led me there, at that time, on that fateful night, and we live with the consequences of our actions. Sometimes the consequences are far more severe than you’d expect. I’m used to life-and-death scenarios. This death takes away my breath, and I’m still waiting to get it back.
Everyone filters up to pay their last respects, filing into line in the center aisle. The same aisle used almost every Saturday in the summer for a white wedding. My feet feel like lead as I cut the same path as those before me. When it’s my turn, the pastor smiles at me. “Thank you for your service, son. The world is better because you’re in it.”
My throat, which still aches when I swallow too much food, clogs with emotion. I shake his hand and nod instead of giving a verbal response. Faulty electrical wiring caused the fire. The window display was connected to an outlet that isn’t typically used, and the heavy load was too much for the bad wire job. There is nothing left of Magnolia’s Steals but for a pile of black ashes. The charred remnants are a painful reminder of everything Bronze Bay has lost.
There is a line of her crew to the right of the casket, and I shake hands with each and every firefighter in her unit. The unit that arrived on the scene of the fire at the same time I saved Kendall. The woman, Andrea Sinclair, the hero I couldn’t be,saved Magnolia Sager and perished in the fire. A support beam fell directly on her head moments after she brought Magnolia to safety. It was tragic, and…it was my fault. I should have gotten Magnolia out of there before the beam fell on her.
“Thank you so much,” I whisper, my voice a crackling, harsh grate. There was nothing from that night I remember after I collapsed, desperate for oxygen. These men and women before me took over. Truly saved the day…and Magnolia’s life.
The last firefighter nods and shakes my hand, his face a grim representation of what he’s lost. Gazing back at the coffin draped in the American flag, I’m struck with the memories of all the funerals I’ve attended in the past. Funerals for my brothers at arms. Deaths at the hands of bad guys, accidents, cancer, stray bullets in training, and explosions. Years and years of mortality that grind on my heart and steal my breath. This is no different. I thank Andrea once more, under my breath, for saving my heart, and then leave the church through the side door.
The attendees are mingling, sharing memories of the Bronze Bay Fire Department crew, friends and family passing happy memories of the fallen hero. I gravitate toward my men, the ones in the same uniform as me, and fall into conversation. They pat my shoulder and try their hardest to give just the right amount of empathy tinged with humor. Not too much because then they’ll make me feel bad, too little and they’re fucking jerks.
SEALs are known for their chameleon personalities. We’re almost psychopaths. The keyword beingalmost. We are charismatic, type A, alluring perfectionists. We zone in on things that interest us, and we obsess. We are cutthroat in competition and can file away emotion like a mundane, everyday chore. It’s borderline only because we don’t possess the bad qualities true psychopaths harness. Needless to say, our condolences don’t sound the same as most other people’s.
I check my watch. Only one hour until visiting hours begin at the hospital. One more hour until I can sit by Magnolia’s bed. Hold her hand and try not to cry in relief that she’s still breathing. Her recovery is slow-moving due to the fact she broke both her legs and was unconscious for a long period of time.She will be okay. She will be okay.
A hand clamps on my shoulder from the back. “Hey, man. I’m glad she’s going to be okay. They just told me she’s going to start walking soon,” Leo says, hiking his thumb to another group of SEALs. My blood begins pumping when I see Leo. It’s hard to separate facts when there’s so much fury flowing in my body. I’m angry mostly at myself, but Leo comes in a close motherfucking second. “I’m sorry about everything.”
I swallow hard. “I don’t want to get into this with you. Don’t apologize.”
He holds up his palms. Scared I’m going to throw a punch. Again. “I would never want to hurt them. Either of them. You have to know that.” I know that. The cause of the fire was one of the first things I asked about at the earliest opportunity.
“Could have fooled me, man. What did you think it would do to Magnolia to move in on her daughter? To break up her relationship? Both things are pretty hurtful. Although your definition of ‘fucked up’ might be different than mine.”
“Polly asked me where you went, and I told her. I’m telling you, man. I didn’t send her there. That time it wasn’t malicious.”
That time.This guy is such a douchebag. “Whatever, man. You’re moving to Harbour Point, and I’ll never have to look at your face again.”
Leo shifts on his feet, uneasy, his gaze darting away.
“Out with it, prick. What else could you possibly have to say?” My tone is sharp, but I’m careful to keep the words just between us. “I have to go.”
He licks his lips. “Kendall,” he says, finally looking in my direction. “I, ah, really like her…as a friend.”
