Page 96 of Hearts on the Line

But not Ethan.

I try calling him as I drive back to Old Port from Sarah’s, my heart in my throat.

Pick up, pick up, pick up, dammit.

Why won’t he pick up?

By the time I reach the restaurant, black smoke pours out of the building as giant orange flames burst from inside.

I hear screaming, and it takes me a minute to recognize it’s me, screaming for Ethan and Wally. The heat hits my face from fifty feet away. Someone’s car alarm is going off. The smell of burning wood and—oh, god—melting plastic.

Firefighters battle the blaze, trying to keep it contained, but the old buildings are so close that debris rains down against the sidewalk.

“Ethan!”

“Sloane.” I recognize the voice, but it takes me a minute. I can’t look away from the building, can’t see anything. Arms wrap around me as I try to break through the barricade. I’m clawing at whoever’s holding me back, my voice cracking as I scream his name again.

Sean is there, leaning in front of me. “Come here.” He guides me forward. At least I think I’m moving. Maybe I’m floating because I can’t feel my feet until I realize I’m in the back of an ambulance.

Wally jumps at me, nearly knocking me over as I blink. There’s a body in front of me, everything covered in smoke and ash, an oxygen mask strapped to the face as paramedics move around.

Ethan.

My knees give out, and Sean catches me before I hit the asphalt.

“He’s going to be okay, Sloane.” Sean motions to a paramedic to give me a blanket, before disappearing back into the chaos.

I stumble forward, reaching out to brace myself against the thin mattress of the stretcher as I climb inside.

I glance down at Ethan and brush my hands over his hair when his eyes flutter open. He coughs, and I burst into tears.

I feel the wet press of Wally’s nose against my thighs, and I recognize that there’s a crowd gathering now as flames engulf the restaurant. Firefighters are trying their hardest to put out the fire, but I sit there with Ethan, knowing full well it’s gone.

Everything is gone.

Ethan stretches his hand up, curling it behind my neck to draw me close. “It’s okay, baby,” he whispers over and over, his voice hoarse.

Baby.

I sob harder.

I sniff, then glance past him toward the open doors. So many familiar faces, all of them in shock.

“You’re safe, Sun,” he says. “You’re safe.”

This stubborn, selfless man…

I look back at Ethan and press my forehead to his chest, then kiss him there. His heart is pounding. I’m so frustrated that he’s this calm when everything feels so completely out of control.

“I—I’m here,” he says, his voice breaking.

I can’t stop crying, and then the paramedics hand me a picture frame. “Said he had to get this for you.”

It’s my dad’s photo, the one hung by the corner table. My hands shake so badly I nearly drop the frame. He could have died for this picture. For me.

“You love that picture.”

An overwhelming tide of frustration and love washes over me. The words stick in my throat because how do you tell someone they mean more than everything you’ve lost? But they come anyway, raw and honest. “I love you more.”