"I'm okay."She forced a breath in, but the world tilted again, the horizon sliding sideways.An echo of the smoke-thick hallway rushed back—the heat, the darkness, the terrible certainty that she might not make it out.The charred ruin in front of her blurred, edges smearing together like a watercolor left in the rain.
He reached out, a hand hovering near her elbow."You're pale."
"I just need a minute."She locked her knees.Bad idea.The ground slipped away completely for a heartbeat, her vision narrowing to a dim tunnel with the ruins at the far end.
The next thing she knew, his arm wrapped around her waist, steadying her before she pitched forward.Her palms found the solid plane of his chest, sweatshirt soft under her fingers.Warmth radiated through the heavy material, grounding and solid and very, very real.
"Got you," he said.
She hadn't even realized how far she'd swayed until she felt how firmly he held her.His other hand settled lightly at her upper back, not gripping, not trapping, just there—a point of contact that said he wasn't going anywhere.
"Don't move too fast," he added."Head rush."
She let out a shaky breath."I'm fine."
"Is that your favorite sentence?"
"It's convenient."
He huffed a quiet sound that might have been a laugh."Lift your head for me.Slowly."
She obeyed, feeling ridiculous even as she did.Her gaze met his.Concern darkened his eyes, but there was no pity in them—no condescension, no exasperation.Just focus.And something steady underneath it all that made the roaring in her ears soften to a manageable hum.
"You're leaning on me," he said.
She realized she was.Both hands gripping his sweatshirt like it was the only thing keeping her tethered to the earth.Her body pressed more fully against his than she had intended, close enough to feel his heartbeat through all those layers.If she stepped back, she wasn't entirely sure her legs would cooperate.
"You can let go," she said."I'm okay now."
"You can stay right there."
Her cheeks warmed, but the embarrassment was thin, washed out by exhaustion.She felt his arm tighten just a fraction, enough to convince her he wasn't ready to let go even if she asked him to.
Behind them, Anderson called out a command; a hose team shifted position, spraying a final stubborn hotspot near what had been the dining room.Steam rose, ghostly and brief, then faded into the morning air.
Sabrina watched it with her cheek nearly level with the reflective strip on Colby's sweatshirt.If she closed her eyes, she could almost imagine she stood somewhere else entirely, leaning against someone in a kitchen somewhere warm and bright, music playing low, no smoke or ruin or fear in sight.
"What now?"she asked softly.The question escaped before she could stop it.
"Now," he said, "you breathe."
"That's your grand plan?"
"For the next ten seconds, yes."
She let her head tip against his chest, tension bleeding from her shoulders one muscle at a time."And after that?"
"After that, you let them finish putting this out."His voice stayed calm, a quiet anchor in the wreckage."Then we figure out the next thing.One step at a time."
Her fingers curled into the fabric of his coat, snagging on a loose thread near one of the pockets."I don't know what the next thing even is.I don't have a house.I don't have a business.I barely have pajamas."
"Pajamas are replaceable."His words were gentle, but firm underneath."You're not."
She closed her eyes briefly, letting the words settle somewhere deep in her chest, then opened them again, forcing herself to look at the charred remains of everything she'd built."I thought if I came back and watched, it would make it real.That I'd be able to accept it, move past the shock."
"Did it?"
"I don't know."Her voice turned raw, scraping over the admission."It feels like waking up in someone else's life.Like any minute now I'll snap out of it, and everything will be back the way it was."
