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And if smoke, then what the hell caused that much of it?

“Sir,” the paramedic glares at me. “My job is to transport. Not go into the building or fight fires.”

Isabel says something, but with her mask, I can’t make it out. She must see my confusion, because she briefly tugs it down. “There was smoke coming from the ventilation system in the gallery. Later, a bang, then a fire in the kitchen.”

The paramedic sits back, throwing her hands in the air. “Don’t mind me. What the hell do I know?”

The wheels inside my head spin as I piece together her words. It doesn’t make sense.

“Does the gallery have a separate system?”

She nods but keeps her mask secure.

I take a few deep breaths of oxygen. “To protect the art?”

Again, she nods.

“Anything missing?”

She shrugs, then drags her mask away for a moment. “Not that I could tell. It was too smoky. But...”

I wait for her to continue, when she doesn’t, I ask, “But what?”

“When I first arrived at my grandparents’, my grandmother made some strange allegations. But when I went to check, nothing was missing.” She takes a deep breath through her mask. “I told myself it was confusion. Her mind.”

I nod while trying to think. Having been in the gallery myself, I bring the room to mind.

“Anything else?”

Shaking her head, she takes a few deep breaths before speaking. “Maybe. I found something on the floor that shouldn’t have been there.”

Before I can ask her what, we pull up to hospital’s A&E entrance, halting our conversation. The backdoor opens, and I’m asked to get out first. Once my feet hit the ground, they sit me in a wheelchair to escort me inside.

Isabel’s unloaded next, and I make it clear we are not to be separated. If they try, I’ll just get up and go find her. They can deal with it.

The ward is a buzz of activity. Nurses rush around, doctors confer, and machines beep nonstop.

Several residents from the Hyde Park complex are here. Most are struggling, just like us, hacking and wheezing from the smoke they’ve breathed in.

I can’t help but wonder if whoever set the fire fucked it up. Because yes, I believe it wasn’t faulty wiring or a freak accident. Not after hearing about the explosion in the kitchen.

Izzy’s on edge as she searches the large open ward. “Do you see my grandmother?”

I stretch to my full height, the room’s layout unfolding before me. “No, but the curtains are closed on a few. I’ll go track her down.”

Her hand grips my arm, the pressure a silent plea. “Thank you. She gets confused easily. I should’ve insisted I be transported with her.”

Looking her in the eye, I make her a promise. “I’ll find her.”

Then I do something extremely inappropriate in a situation like this. I lean forward, tug her mask down just enough to kiss her lips. I keep it brief, but that doesn’t mean I’m not affected. Every time our lips touch, my lust for her grows.

I know I’m digging myself a grave so big that when I fall into it, there will be no climbing out. But, fuck if I care, I’m so done caring.

“Your mask,” Isabel reminds me when I pull hers back up.

“I’m good.” I lie. “You stay here. Keep breathing in that good air. I’ll be back.”

The ward is chaos. White coats and scrubs blur together as the staff run around, too busy to notice me as I scan the room.