Page 17 of The Haunting Plot

His brow knits, distress etched on his face as he brushes off my barb. He looks around the porch, motioning for me to sit. Reluctantly, I sink into the rocker.

“Can I?” He extends his hands to cup my face, then hesitates, waiting for my response.

Rolling my eyes, I nod. He grips my cheeks, tilts my head back, and shines a flashlight up my nostrils. As soon as his gloved hand grazes my skin, I have to fight the urge to lean into his touch. This reaction is new and concerning, but it’s just because his gloves are smooth and there’s no rough skin triggering my sensory issues. That’s all it is. So why does it make me feel like one of the heroines in my books? I shove down the confusing feeling.

“Where are the kids? Are they okay?”

“They’re in the house. They’re fine.”

“What happened?” His eyes lock with mine, and I’m confused by the angry look on his face.

“Jonah had a meltdown, and none of our normal tricks were working. I was trying to apply deep pressure therapy by hugging him from behind, but he reared back and headbutted me. It helps sometimes, but not this time. And this is the most I’ve ever bled before. McKenna panicked and called 911. I’m fine.”

“Is Jonah calm now?”

“Yes. He was on his tablet right before you pulled up.”

“What caused the meltdown?”

“He’s been on edge all morning. He said the sun was too bright and the lights were too loud.”

He crosses his arms as the lines in his forehead deepen.

“Why do you look so angry right now?”

“This is my fault.”

Now I’m confused. “I wasn’t aware you controlled the sun.”

“Hanging those curtains would’ve taken me an hour. The lighting situation is a little more complicated, but LED bulbs could be a quick option. If you didn’t want my help, please tell me you found someone else.”

I tilt my head to look at him, and a wave of dizziness hits me, causing me to sway.

“Blaze! Get your ass over here and bring the stretcher.”

“I’m fine.” I try to wave him off, but my arms are weak.

“There’s a lot of blood on your shirt. I’m gonna take you in to check for a broken nose or possible concussion.”

My attempts to shake my head only make me dizzier. “Kids,” I rasp.

“RJ’s on the way to watch them.”

When the other firefighter wheels the stretcher over, I don’t even fight Sawyer as he helps me onto it. He eases me into the back of the vehicle and walks off. Another EMT checks my vitals as I hold my breath waiting for Sawyer to reappear. Maybe he’s going to ride up front? I stare at the ambulance ceiling as I try to calm my racing heart.

The doors shut, startling me, and when I peer through the window, I see Sawyer’s back as he walks toward the house.

A small pang of disappointment lights up my chest when I realize he’s not getting in the ambulance with me. Fuck, I think I might like him.

I look over at the EMT helping me. He’s got to be in his mid-twenties. There’s no character on his face, no wrinkles in sight when he smiles down at me. “We’re gonna take good care of you, ma’am.”

“Why isn’t the big dumb idiot with the mustache coming with us?”

“Said he was gonna hang back and wait on RJ. Never seen the chief so concerned about a patient before,” the EMT says knowingly.

I look away, unwilling to meet his eyes when the truth in his words has stolen my breath. The blood pressure cuff squeezes my arm, and I focus on the sensation, grinding my teeth.

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