Page 120 of Frosting and Flames

Because of the fire I caused all those years ago.

I push past the sinking sensation in my stomach, compartmentalizing things the way I do on a call, and instinctively move into assessment mode.

Rachel doesn’t appear to have any burns or cuts, no coughing from inhaling smoke for too long. She’s breathing roughly, her shoulders rising and falling in fast, shallow bursts.

I kneel in front of her, saying her name, but she doesn’t respond, or maybe doesn’t hear me. I say her name again, shrugging off my turnout coat now that I don’t need it, and gently place my hand on her face, guiding it up. Her eyes are wide and glassy, no recognition in them.

My fingers move down to check her pulse. It’s thready, which I don’t like combined with how pale she is.

“Rachel.” I’m firmer this time, taking her hand and pressing it flat against my chest. “I’m here. You’re all right. Let’s try to breathe, okay?”

I inhale slowly, exaggerating it, letting her feel my chest expand and contract.

Her breath hitches, as if each inhale is a fight, and I can tell the moment she’s aware it’s me in front of her.

“Nick.” Her face crumples, and she surges forward, wrapping her arms around my neck and squeezing me tight. “The fire… I couldn’t move…”

My arms encircle her automatically in response, tucking her securely against me. “We’ll worry about everything else later.”

Jae gets my attention and motions toward the front of the garage.I’ll go, she mouths, giving us some privacy.

I work on getting Rachel’s breathing back to normal, inhaling and exhaling with her. “In and out, that’s it. You’re okay.”

She’s still trembling, and I do everything I can to keep my voice steady and reassuring when inside I’m a bundle of nerves. What the hell happened to make a fire? And why was Rachel so close to it?

If those flames had spread any more, it could have turned a lot more serious. All I can do is thank whatever higher power there may be that she’s unharmed and here safe in my arms.

When her breaths are back within normal range, I unwind her arms from me gently.

“Did you get burned at all?” I ask, checking her over.

She shakes her head. “Jae pulled me out of the garage.”

“Any smoke inhalation?”

“I don’t think so.” She touches her throat. “I remember that from last time. I… I get now why Sydney freaked out at that oven fire a couple months ago. I panicked and…” She swallows hard. “I was worried I wouldn’t get to tell you I love you.”

I go still. That’s what she was concerned about? Yes, she alluded to love in that voicemail she left, but hearing it now is something else altogether.

“Say it again,” I whisper, needing to be sure it’s real.

Her hand cups my jaw, her gaze tender. “I love you.”

Relief floods me so swiftly it nearly hurts, colliding with the ache of everything we almost lost last night. “I love you.” I take her lips in a gentle kiss, curbing my instinct to kiss her hard andfast, still mindful that she’s in a delicate state and we’re out in public.

“Sorry to break it up,” Mark calls out, rounding the side of the building, “but we need to do our incident report.”

“Right,” Rachel whispers. “You’re working.”

I nod, wishing like hell I could take her home right now. I want to hear her tell me she loves me again about a thousand times before I’ll be satisfied.

“Can I see you tomorrow?” I ask, internally cursing these twenty-four-hour shifts in a way I never have before.

“Of course. Just let me know when. Sydney and Hailey can man the bakery by themselves for a while.”

I lead her back to the open bay of the garage, glad to see Mark took care of the fire.

“I’ve got Ms. Choi’s statement,” he says, and turns to Rachel. “Now I just need yours.”

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