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“She’s fine,” Mom soothes. “She’s at my house.”
That doesn’t make me feel better. If anything, it makes me feel worse. Tears drip down my face. I wipe them away, but they keep falling, and I bury my face against Mom’s shoulder.
“I’m sorry, Mom,” I cry, my voice muffled by the soft cotton of her shirt.
She shakes her head. “Sweetheart, don’t apologize. You have nothing to be sorry for. I think you’re just overwhelmed and probably in shock. Let me go get the doctor.”
It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell her it’s not shock that has me so worked up, it’s guilt. I want to tell her what happened—all of the things I did wrong.
Instead, I nod. “Okay.”
“Mo is out there. Would you like me to send her in?”
If there’s one person in the world I need right now besides my mother, it’s Mo.
“Yes, please.”
“Okay, sweetie.” With a kiss to my forehead, Mom walks out, and a second later, Monroe rushes in.
I don’t even have time to process the thoughts racing through my head, let alone get control of my emotions, before she throws herself at me.
“You scared the shit out of me.” When she pulls back, I can see that her eyes are red and puffy. “Between you and Trevor, Rhett and I are about to have a heart attack.”
“Trevor? What happened to Trevor?” I ask, furrowing my brow, and there’s that burning feeling again. I rub against the tingling sensation and pull my fingers back, but there’s nothing there.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. My forehead feels funny.” I shake my head. “I’m sure it’s nothing. What happened with Trevor?”
Monroe blows out a harsh breath and studies me for a second. “You don’t remember?”
“Remember what?” And then it hits me. Trevor is a firefighter. “Oh my gosh, was he there? Please tell me he didn’t get hurt putting the fire out.”
Monroe shakes her head. “He didn’t get hurt putting the fire out. He got hurt saving your life,” she says softly, as if her tone could lessen the blow. But it’s too late. Monroe’s words are a sucker punch straight to the gut.
“What? What do you mean he got hurt saving my life?”
“Claire.” Monroe looks at the door. “Maybe the doctor should explain this, or your mother. I really thought you knew,” she says, bringing her gaze back to mine.
“I remember going in after the boys. I can recall bits and pieces of crawling through thick smoke, and the last thing I remember is a big body slamming down on mine.” I gasp, covering my mouth with my hand as the words pass through my lips, a fresh wave of tears sliding down my face. “That was Trevor?”
Monroe grabs some Kleenex. She hands one to me and then wipes the wetness from her cheeks. “Yes. I’m so sorry; I thought you knew.”
I shake my head. “No. How could I? The smoke was so thick. I could barely breathe, let alone see, and those firefighters—there were two. I couldn’t see their faces because of their masks, and their voices were muffled. God, Mo, all I could think about was getting out alive.”
Goosebumps race across my skin, the knot in my stomach from earlier growing with each passing second. “Is he okay? Please tell me Trevor is okay. And the other guy—do you know who he was?”
“Mikey. He’s fine. He got out with the boys, and Trevor stayed behind to help you up, only you two didn’t make it far before the ceiling caved in. According to the other firefighters, Trevor curled his body around yours and took the brunt of the falling debris.”
“I have to go see him.” I reach for my IV to pull it out, but Mo stops me.
“Wait until the doctors release you, and I’ll take you to his room. He’s only a few doors down.”
“I don’t want to wait.” What doesn’t she understand about that? “He saved my life, Mo. Not only did I put those kids’ life in danger, I put his in danger too. I need to get to him and see for myself that he’s okay and apologize and—”
“Whoa, Claire. Slow down. You didn’t put anyone’s life in danger. You got your class out, and you saved those boys.”
I shake my head, but it doesn’t deter her.
