Page 67 of Hearts Storm

Gently, I lower the librarian onto the gurney as medics swarm around her with practiced efficiency. One already has an oxygen mask in place, the other checking her vitals while a third cuts her pant leg open to assess the damage.

“We’ve got her,” one of them says, not even sparing us a glance.

I take a step back, yank my mask away from my face, and suck in a deep, greedy breath of fresh air. Cool, clean, and so fucking good, it’s what I imagine downing a cold glass of water after spending a week in the desert would feel like.

Squinting up at the second floor, I watch as the last of the black smoke gives way to thin, wispy tendrils curling from the shattered windows. The hoseline is doing its job, punching through the remaining flames. The worst of it’s over. The library is still standing, charred and battered but structurally sound from what I can tell.

I press the button on my comm. “Saint,” I snap. “Report.”

“Second floor is looking a hell of a lot better,” Brex responds, voice steady and calm. “Flames are under control on the east wing. We’ve got water on the rest of the hotspots. No major structural collapse that we can tell so far. Some buckling in the ceiling joists, but nothing that looks like it’s gonna come down.”

“Tell the team to err on the side of caution when assessing the back stairwell. A beam did come down in there.”

“Copy.”

“Casualties?”

“Negative. My team is doing a final sweep now. Alan and Taylor are mopping up the last of the hot spots in the west wing.”

“Copy. Keep me posted.” I scrub a hand over my face, smearing soot and sweat over my skin.

Mask hanging loose around his neck, Kurtis claps me on the shoulder with a grin. “Good save, Cap.”

Clapping back, I return his grin. “Good save, L.T.”

twenty-nine

Darkness pulls me under, dragging me down into the murky depths of memories I haven’t dreamed about in years.

I’m ten years old, standing on the rocky shore of Pagosa Lake in Colorado, shivering despite the sun beating hot against my skin.

Rebecca’s laughter rings out across the water—a high-pitched, breathless giggle that always made me feel just as giddy.

“Come on, Rey!” She’s waving at me from where she’s standing, waist-deep in the lake, white-blond hair clinging to her cheeks and forehead. “Don’t be a chicken!”

I hesitate, toes curling into the warm mud at the water’s edge. Something feels off, but I can’t quite place it because my stomach is too busy twisting into a knot.

“Dad?” Disappointment rushes through me when I glance over my shoulder. Eyes closed, he’s sitting in his favorite fold-out chair with his mouth hanging open, empty beer cans scattered next to him on the ground.

“He’s passed out again.” Rebecca rolls her eyes, splashing water in my direction. “Come on sissy. Swim with me!”

The water looks darker than usual. Deeper. But, because I always follow where Rebecca leads, I wade in.

“Wait for me,” I shout, looking down at my feet. The cold bites at my ankles, then my calves, and finally my thighs as I make my way toward my sister.

When I look up, she’s drifted further away, body bobbing as she paddles toward the middle of the lake.

“Becca, stop!” Panic spikes in my veins. “You’re too far out!”

This time her laugh sounds different. Hollow. “It’s fine! You know I’m an awesome swimmer!”

She’s not, though. Not really. Neither of us is. We only had a few lessons at the community pool last summer before Dad lost his job and stopped taking us. Now all he does when he’s not taking random jobs is get drunk and pass out.

“Rebecca, please!” I’m swimming now, arms slugging through water as I try to catch up.

But the harder I swim, the further she keeps drifting away.

Suddenly, she stops laughing. Her smile vanishes as her body jerks and she starts flailing her arms.