Page 17 of The Fire Between Us

"It's my job," I reply automatically, though we both know that's not the full truth.

"Amelia—" she starts, concern flooding her face.

"Is safe with Mrs. Gunderson," I assure her, gently replacing the oxygen mask. "You told me that, remember? She wasn't with you at the cottage."

Relief washes over her features, and she nods, eyes closing briefly.

"Why were you there alone?" I ask, unable to help myself.

She pulls the mask down again. "Mrs. G was only going to bring her over after my tour." Her voice breaks slightly. "If she'd been with me..."

"But she wasn't," I say firmly. "She's safe. You're going to be okay."

Sarah returns with a clipboard. "We need to transport her for further evaluation," she tells me. "Protocol for smoke inhalation."

I nod, knowing she's right. "Mrs. Gunderson should be notified," I tell Jennie. "So she doesn't bring Amelia here and get scared."

Jennie fumbles for her phone, but her hands are shaking too much to operate it.

"I'll take care of it," I promise. "Just focus on recovering, okay? Everything else can wait."

She looks at me with an intensity that makes my chest tighten, then slowly nods and allows Sarah to replace the oxygen mask.

"Davidson!" Brock calls from across the scene. "Time's up!"

"I have to go," I tell her reluctantly. "But I'll check on you later, make sure you are okay."

She nods again, her eyes communicating what she can't say aloud.

As I jog back to the fire scene, I'm aware of a sharp pain in my shoulder that I hadn't noticed before—probably from carrying Jennie out of the cottage or from dodging the falling ceiling debris. It doesn't matter. What matters is that she's safe, Amelia's safe, and once we get this fire fully extinguished, I can make sure they stay that way.

I rejoin Lewis for overhaul duties, working through the process of checking for hidden fire, ensuring complete extinguishment. As we work, I keep finding my gaze drawn to the ambulance where paramedics are preparing to transport Jennie.

"She must be something special," Lewis comments quietly as we pull down a section of damaged ceiling. "I've never seen you break protocol before."

I don't have an answer for him. I'm not sure I have an answer for myself. All I know is that when I heard Jennie might be in that cottage, nothing else mattered—not protocol, not chain of command, not even my own safety.

And that terrifies me almost as much as it intrigues me.

By the time we declare the fire officially out, nearly two hours have passed. The house has suffered significant damage, but the cottage behind it has escaped with only minor smoke damage to its exterior. As we begin packing up our equipment, I pull out my phone and find Mrs. Gunderson's number.

"Max?" she answers on the second ring. "Is everything alright? I've been seeing the fire trucks from my window."

"Mrs. Beaumont's house caught fire," I explain. "Jennie was looking at the cottage when it happened. She's okay, but they're taking her to the hospital for observation. Smoke inhalation."

"Oh my goodness!" Mrs. Gunderson exclaims. "Poor Ethel! And poor Jennie! Don't worry about Amelia. We're making cookies and reading stories, and then we’ll go to the hospital."

"Good," I say, relief washing through me again. "I’m sure Jennie will love waking up with Amelia next to her."

"Of course, dear," Mrs. Gunderson assures me.

"Thank you, Mrs. G."

As I end the call, Brock approaches, his expression stern. "My office, tomorrow, 0800," he says without preamble. "We need to discuss your actions today."

"Yes, sir," I acknowledge. "I understand."

"You're injured," he observes, nodding toward my shoulder where I've been unconsciously rubbing at the pain.

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