"Maybe I'll encourage llama wrangling as a goal."
I give her hand another squeeze before releasing her. Lindsey shifts to retrieve the handheld. She turns it on, and I tilt my head forward for her to rinse my hair. It feels good to be clean and not hospital clean, with their leave-in soap and shampoo.
We go through the whole process of drying me off while keeping my modesty intact for her sake. I'm back in running shorts when she helps me into the wheelchair, and we're both panting and out of breath by the process. And despite how good the bath felt, I'm worn out as she applies the cream to my burns. By the time she finishes, I’m exhaustion-drunk and ready to pass out.
Lindsey wheels me back into the living room to the recliner, and we go through the process again. Only this time, I can't keep my eyes open once I hit the cushioned seat.
I feel her fingertips lightly brush through my hair to smooth it but can't force my lashes up. All I can think is that whatever happens, right now, I'm glad I'm not going it alone.
I'm surrounded by smoke, and I can feel the heat of the flames despite my gear. I'm on my way out when I see him. I can't make out who it is, but he's struggling. Tangled.
I head that way and recognize Zack once I'm bent over him, pulling on the wires he's caught on. We get them off, and he's up. Okay.
We're moving toward the exit when I see the ceiling collapse in slow motion. I don't have time to think. Don't even have time to take a breath. I act, instinctively shoving him hard to push him out of the way because no way can we both make it.
I go down beneath the burning debris, rocked to my core as I feel my leg break and then break again in a one-two crunch of agony. I hear myself scream. Then drag in another breath to scream again as the fire sears my skin.
The pain is blinding. The flames searing?—
"Kace. Shhh. Kace, it's okay. Shhh. Hey, it's okay. You're okay. You're with me. You hear me? You're safe. It's over now. You're safe."
Lindsey's voice breaks through the nightmare suffocating me, and I open my eyes to find her bent over me once more, her expression one of heartbreaking tenderness and wide-eyed terror. Her trembling fingers are on my face, brushing over my cheeks and grounding me in the here and now.
I suck in a breath and let my head roll against the cushion.
I'm home. Safe, like she said. But it still takes me a few seconds to orient myself and for that fact to sink in. For my body to drag itself completely out of that memory.
I use my good hand to snag her round the shoulders and drag her low, pulling her against me in an awkward hug but needing contact. I can tell she's surprised by the move, but I don't care. I need the scent of her hair to rid myself of the stench of burnt flesh. The cool warmth of her skin to ease the heat of the flames.
"You're okay," she whispers. "You're here with me and the girls, and you're okay."
I hear tears clogging her throat, and I hate that I'm the cause of them. But I don't let go or tell her to hush because I love hearing her whispered reassurances. I need them. I need them badly.
I close my eyes and breathe her in again, letting her chase the charred remnants of the dream away. She's softness and strength. Coconut and vanilla and mint.
She lets me hold her like that, bent over the chair awkwardly but resting against me. The burns ache from the pressure of her weight, but I like it. I like the pain because it means I'm still here.
After a long, long time, I let her go. "I'm sorry."
She slides into a crouch beside the chair, and I frown when I see her wince. "Did I hurt you?"
Her expression softens even more, and she shakes her head.
"No, not at all. Just a little stiff from the angle."
"And lifting me," I mutter. Maybe this isn't a good idea. She's pregnant after all. I hadn't really considered that when she made the offer because I was so focused on getting out of the hospital. But I should've. She's pregnant—and lifting someone twice her size.
"I've never had to lift you. As if I could," she murmurs. "Balancing you is no big deal. Hey, I'm fine. Seriously, big guy, I'm all good. I think the question is, are you okay?"
I nod, but I can tell she doesn't believe me. "Just a nightmare."
"Yeah, and a doozy from the sound of it. You were…back in the fire?"
She's hesitant to ask. I'm hesitant to answer, but I nod. Why bother lying when it's obvious? "I went down. Felt the breaks and the flames and—knew I wasn't going to see my girls again."
"Oh, Kace."
I scrub a hand over my face and rub hard.
