Page 78 of Fighting For You

He shook his head. "Don't."

"I put you in that building. You were in there because of me."

"I was in there because Thompson told me to go in." He coughed, winced, and cleared his throat. "That's the job, Knox. Someone's in trouble, you go in. I'd do it again tomorrow."

"You shouldn't have had to."

"Maybe not. But I did, and I'm here, and I'm fine." He held up the cast. "Besides, I'm getting a commendation for this. You know that, right? Line-of-duty injury during a structural collapse. That's a medal, brother. I'm getting decorated."

I stared at him.

"I'm going to be the most decorated firefighter at 110 who's never been promoted." He was grinning again. "They'll have to make a whole new section in the trophy case."

Something in my chest cracked open. Something lighter than the grief from last night. Travis reached over with his good hand and shoved my arm.

"Don't worry about it, brother. Seriously. Don't."

I looked at him. For everything I'd put him through, he was still Travis. Banged up, burned, casted, and still sitting there making sure everyone in the room was laughing.

"Thank you, Travis."

The door opened. Lori came in with a chart and checked the IV drip, adjusting the flow with a couple of quick turns. She noted something on the chart, then looked up.

Travis had his good hand on his neck, fingers working under the edge of the gauze.

Lori swatted his hand away. "Stop scratching."

"It itches."

"I don't care. You scratch those dressings and you're going to slow down your healing and scar worse." She pointed at him. "Hands off. I mean it."

Travis lowered his hand slowly, like a kid caught reaching into a jar.

Lori looked at him for a second. Then she tucked the chart under her arm and walked out.

Travis watched her go. He turned back to me with his eyebrows raised.

He really had no idea.

CHAPTER 18

Arrested

NORA

Travis was discharged after eleven days.

The crew set up a rotation. Someone was at Travis's apartment every day, helping with whatever he couldn't manage one-handed. Cooking, cleaning, errands. Knox took two mornings a week. Wyatt and Andy covered weekends. Greene and Carl filled in the rest.

On days the crew was on shift, Travis took an Uber to the ER and asked Lori to redress his burns. His left arm was still in a cast, and the burns on his neck were impossible to reach on his own. Lori cleaned them, applied fresh gauze, checked the healing, and sent him home. He came back every time.

It became routine. Travis would show up, Lori would take him back, and twenty minutes later he'd walk out with fresh dressings and something to say about whatever she'd told him while she worked. She'd roll her eyes at the nurses' station after he left, but she never handed him off to anyone else.

"Avery, bay six needs a repeat CBC and a chem panel before I round back. Results to me directly."

"Yes, Dr. Sullivan."

He moved on to the next chart. I drew the labs, labeled the tubes, sent them to the machine, and updated the order in the system. When the results came back, I paged him, gave him the numbers, and waited while he reviewed them.