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The guys had informed them that the lady still wasn’t able to move, and Jay, who was the paramedic, predicted that her hip was broken. The door wouldn’t budge, and she was too close to it for them to try to bash it in.
“All right. I’m going up.”
Andrea looked to see Donny heading toward the ladder before making his way up to the window it rested against. She found herself admiring the way he took charge. He had the trait of a real alpha male.
When he disappeared through the window, he had managed to raise it without breaking it, and she finally snapped out of her troublesome thoughts.
Twenty minutes later, Donny and his team exited the entrance of the building with a lady that looked to be in her late seventies on a stretcher with a bandage over her head.
She managed to take a few photos of the scene before lowering her lens to watch Donny in action. He bent to the woman’s level to hold the hand she held out to him while his mouth moved as he spoke to her. The woman nodded as he graced her with a soft smile.
The two paramedics placed her in the back of the ambulance before one stepped out and closed the doors before heading to the front to drive. Donny slapped his hand against the vehicle as it took off.
“Hey, are you okay?”
Andrea shook her head to clear it. “Oh yeah. That was amazing,” she gushed.
“Thank you. It’s my job,” he responded, the same soft smile on his lips.
Andrea averted her eyes to calm the speeding of her heart.
“I should head home,” she said anxiously.
“Of course. Sure. We’re just about done here. We’ll head back to the station so you can pick up your car.”
Andrea gave him a grateful smile.
When they made it back to the fire station, Andrea thanked the crew for their cooperation.
“I’ll be in touch,” she informed Donny as he stood by the Jeep with his hands in his pockets.
As she drove off, she could see him standing by the curb, looking back at her until he was nothing but a blur.
The moment she made it home, she headed upstairs to freshen up. Her phone rang, and without hesitation, she brought it to her ear.
“Hello?”
“Hello, Miss Andrea Hamilton. This is Arthur Pennington, David Latcher’s will executor. We spoke last week.”
And just like that, the high she’d had from her time at the fire station plummeted from a ten to zero, and the more the man on the other end of the line spoke, the more trepidation she felt that this was the beginning of the end.
