I searched every shape in the baggy uniforms and helmets that protected them, sure that I would be able to know if one of them was Pace.
“You need to stay back.” A gloved hand was held up in front of me.
I hardly heard the man because at that moment, I saw something that made everything else numb to blackness, background. A firefighter on a hand stretcher being carried away from the flames and toward an awaiting ambulance by two other rescue workers. My knees almost gave out. The figure’s face was blocked by an EMT who was following next to him, administering medical help.
“No,” I said and forced my way through.
“Wait!” the stern voice called after me.
My feet carried me to the stretcher still yards away.
The EMT stopped blocking my view just as the man on his back turned his head, speaking with an oxygen mask over his face.
It wasn’t Pace. It was one of the other guys from the firehouse that day. Walker.
I turned toward the inferno. Helpless. Terrified.
Someone pulled me back further, away from the danger. Warned me with harsh, angry tones. I was out of control and senseless. I knew, far away, that I was acting foolish and embarrassing myself, but I found that I couldn’t care.
If I could see him. See that he was okay.
“Jesus, she’s stronger than she looks,” a man said.
“Who are you looking for?” an older voice asked with gentle patience. “Nobody is in there. We just gotta let it burn itself out.”
Nothing registered.
“Sophie?” another voice called me.
I was still staring at the blaze burning ahead of me, searching each face as men turned, trying to get glimpses as the inferno raged on.
“Sophie?” the voice called again.
At the sound of my name, I turned, reaction delayed, time moving funny. Muddy.
A man walked toward me. It was impossible to see him clearly, impossible to see if his hair was reddish blond, as the fire burning behind him cast him entirely in silhouette. I moved closer as he came to meet me. The light of a nearby idling truck illuminated him. His face was covered in soot. He’d been divested of his helmet and suit, and his remaining pants and shirt were soaked, as was his pushed-back hair.
But it was him.
I cried out. This time, in relief.
“Pace,” I gasped out.
There he was. Walking. Alive. Breathing.
I launched myself at him, running at full speed.
He had just enough time to drop the blanket wrapped around his shoulders in order to reach out his arms and keep me from knocking him down. He caught me easily in a hug. I wrapped my arms tightly around his shoulders.
“Pace.” I sobbed his name once in relief. It was like every second since I realized he was missing finally hit me.
I had been terrified. So terrified that my whole body shook violently with the dump of adrenaline. I had been numb. Checked out. But I was here now.
“Sophie. You’re shaking. What’s wrong?” He held me tight. He smelled of sweat and things that shouldn’t be burned, and it was the greatest thing I had ever smelled.
I ran my hands up his damp arms, and I held his face in my hands. I checked his hair and his body for any sign of trouble.
A half-amused, half-worried look twisted his features as I continued to touch him, as though to make sure he was real.
