“Mrs. Green’s house is on fire!”
“Oh my God.”
“I need your help,” he says frantically.
I throw back the covers. Stevie startles awake when they hit her. Boss is already barking and growling at the foot of the bed. I put the dogs on the floor of the bedroom and rush downstairs through the house in the dark to the big bay window in the living room and gasp as I pull back the curtains. There’s flames coming out of almost every window on Mrs. Green’s ground floor.
“Oh my God,” I whisper again.
“Can you come downstairs and watch River?” he asks. “I need to help.”
“I’m on my way.” I hurry to the front hall and grab my coat and throw it on top of my pajamas and then shove my feet into my boots.
I hang up, unlock my front door, and rush down the stairs, slipping on the last one and almost landing on my ass. I take more ginger steps as I make my way around the side of the house to his door. All the other neighbors are on their lawns or porches. A few have garden hoses and buckets of water they’re trying to spray the house with. When I get to Logan’s door, he’s standing there with it wide open. Chewie is standing just behind him, tail wagging. “I don’t know how, but Riv hasn’t woken up. He might when the fire trucks show up, though. I need to get over there now.”
He gently pushes past me, shrugging into his parka as he goes, and I can’t help but grab his arm. “Be careful.”
“I’ll be okay, I promise.” The wail of firetrucks starts to permeate the air. “I just need to see if anyone needs medical attention.”
I nod nervously and watch him run away toward the flaming house, and my heart constricts. I close the door gently behind him and walk to the window, pulling back the curtains so I can watch the horror unfold. I feel helpless, but I know by staying here for River and letting Logan go be a doctor, I am helping. I think of Mrs. Green and our confrontation earlier that night. She had me so infuriated, but of course I’m praying she’s still here in the morning. Two firetrucks converge on the house, sirens blaring, and scream to a stop directly in front of my place, blocking my view. The sirens stop wailing almost immediately, but the lights keep swirling, making the inside of Logan’s apartment look like a macabre disco. Then Chewie barks. It’s like a cannon going off and reverberates off every wall in the apartment.
“Chewie! Shush!” I hiss, and he ignores me completely, barking again and jumping up on the couch so his whole head is level with the window. He pushes it through the curtains.
“Dad!” A little voice howls tentatively from the second bedroom.
Shit. Am I going to make this kid panic? He’s never met me, and he’s waking up in a house he isn’t used to with crazy lights and noises outside and now me, a stranger. I send up a silent SOS to the Universe to have this whole night not be too traumatic for him as I start down the hall. His bedroom door is only half open, and as he calls out for Logan again more urgently, I poke my head into the room.
“Hi River,” I say softly. “My name is Chloe. I’m a friend of your dad’s.”
He sits up in bed and turns on the small blue table lamp beside him. Holy moly he’s an adorable kid even with his blue eyes wide with fear and his bottom lip wobbling just the slightest. “I want my dad.”
“I know you do,” I say, keeping my voice gentle. “He’s just across the street. I promise he will be back soon.”
“I want him back now,” he whines and that bottom lip starts quivering so hard it looks like it’s in an earthquake.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
“River, you know that your daddy is a paramedic, right?” I ask and he nods. “Well he had to go across the street and help someone.”
“I’m scared,” he says. “I don’t like it.”
“I don’t blame you. I don’t like it either,” I confess and his watering blue eyes lock on my face. He’s on the verge of losing it completely and I am scrambling mentally to figure out how to stop it. I step farther into the room and extend my hand. “Do you want to come into the living room and wait for him there? Chewie is there.”
He nods and slowly, uneasily crawls out of bed. He doesn’t take my hand, so I drop it, but he walks a couple inches beside me. His little arms pulled forward, hands clasped together in front of his Darth Vader pajama set. He is trying so hard to be brave, and it’s inflating and breaking my heart at the same time.
“You likeStar Wars?” I ask because of the pajamas.
He nods a shy yes. “Dad does too. He named Chewie after Chewbacca.”
As we enter the living room from the hall, Chewie jumps off the couch and trots over to us. River’s little face relaxes a little, and he almost cracks a smile as he reaches up to rub the dog’s head, which is higher than his own. Then he looks up as I walk to the curtains and pull the gap closed and flip on the tall lamp behind Logan’s couch.
“What’s the lights?” he asks, the apprehension still audible in his voice.
“There are fire trucks across the street,” I say because I don’t want to lie to him. I don’t think that’s the best way to make a good impression on this kid.
His face lights up. “Is Uncle Jake here?”
“I’m not sure.”
