Page 114 of Burn

And he doesn’t look afraid. No, he’s full of determination to save these people, and for the first time, I’m seeing him work firsthand and finally understandingwhyhe does what he does for a living. I can’t even begin to imagine what this must feel like for him.

And then I wonder, how can he do it? How does he maintain a level of detachment that allows him to save small children and then come back out from saving another, only to see them being covered in a tarp?

How can he stomach seeing people crushed to death and then trying to pull them to safety? How can he look into the eyes of that boy and not cry, knowing he’s not going to be okay?

“How do you decide who to save or who you’ll go after first?” I ask when he’s back in the truck. “Is that boy going to be okay?”

“He’s paralyzed, Mila.” His eyes are distant, as if he has to be so he doesn’t feel what his job is really doing to him inside. “You go off instinct usually.” Rubbing his hands together, he cranks the heater to restore the heat in the truck. “Whoever is closer. A child, a woman, or how bad their injuries are.”

“So you can save people aside from saving them from fire?” My thoughts return to the boy and the tears I saw in his eyes.

Caleb looks at me curiously for a moment, his brow drawn together. “I’m EMT certified. All firefighters in Seattle are, but I’m not a paramedic. I could save them if I had to. I’m just not allowed to administer drugs or start IVs.”

I’m proud of what I just witnessed, but I’m also fucking scared shitless. His job is dangerous, and I only saw a car accident. I can’t even imagine what seeing him running into a fire would be like. I’m not sure I want to.

“Why do you do this?” I ask, my anxiety rising as we begin to drive again. Every street we turn on there’s wreck after wreck, and I know he wants to stop and help. He probably would have, but when he glances at me, he sees it how nervous I am.

His haunted eyes command mine, concealing a pain I’ll never comprehend. “Where’s this coming from? You know what I do for a living.”

“It’s coming from me being concerned for you.” My voice begins to tremble, mirroring the actions of my body as I fight the nerves and the cold. “Dude, that scared me. You could have died.”

He snorts, confirming my thoughts that what I witnessed was not nearly as dangerous as his job gets. That’s the easy stuff. “You have nothing to be scared of.”

“Uh,yesI do.”

He nods, knowing exactly what I’m referring to. He knows he’s wrong to say I shouldn’t be scared.

“Is your job the reason for your nightmares?”

Every muscle is Caleb’s body goes rigid and he shakes his head adamantly. His shoulders tense and he lifts his angry eyes to mine. “Don’t.”

He wants me to stop talking, but with what I’ve just seen, I can’t. “Don’t what?”

His expression shifts from hurt to anger in the blink of an eye, a coldness moving through the truck that has nothing to do with the air outside. “Don’t, Mila.” He shakes his head, snow falling from his hair.

We haven’t moved in a couple of minutes. Traffic’s stalled up ahead of us in what appears to be another accident, judging by all the lights. Sirens can be heard in either direction. All around us the snow falls in large flakes that coat the streets in a heavy slick sheet.

The windshield wipers swish on high, but it doesn’t seem to make a difference; it’s packed in white clumps and accumulating more quickly than the wipers can clear it.

I swallow thickly. “I’m just trying to understand you a little more,” I admit, looking out the window, wishing I wasn’t feeling this right now.

Silence spreads through the cab of his truck, the only sounds sirens and the crunching of cars sliding and the low thumps as they hit light poles and parked vehicles. Usually in Seattle, they close certain streets to avoid this, but the amount of snow in such a short time frame hadn’t been expected.

“Don’ttry to understand me. You’ll only be disappointed.” His belief in those words rip through my heart, and I’m left shattered.

My eyes find his in the dim light. He appears completely frustrated by my questions. By his irritation, I should back off, but I don’t.

He looks away, his voice too calm, too refined, too matter-of-fact when he says, “You knew going into this I was a firefighter . . .”

My heart aches seeing him turn his face away from me. Guilt claws at my chest, tears stinging the backs of my eyes. “Yes, Iknewit was your life, but getting out in the middle of the street to save people, dude, that’s really dangerous.”

His shoulders stiffen and he lifts his eyes to mine. He can see through me right now—my nerves, my fears—and I hold his gaze, wanting him to see them. But there are fears in his too. Maybe for what he’s about to say to me.

“I save people, Mila. That’s my job. And if I wasn’t here—tonight—I hope that someone else would do the same for those people.” There’s so much emotion on his face I can’t decipher which one to focus on. Anger. Hurt. Annoyance. He’s upset with me for questioning his motives at a time like this. I can’t say I blame him. “When I save someone,” he pauses, his words sounding trapped in his throat for the briefest of moments. “I’m thinking aboutme. . . two years old, the rest of my family dead, burned alive and one man risking his life to get me out and give me another chance.” His voice is devoid of so many emotions I fear he has none. There’s no compassion, inflection, but there is confidence. He knows exactly why he’s a firefighter. “I’m thinking, what if that mother I pulled from her car last week before it caught fire was mine? What if that child I carried down fourteen flights of stairs a year ago and breathed for her as her skin melted off her and stuck to my turnout gear was my niece? What ifyouwere trapped in a burning building, choked out by smoke . . . would I want someone risking their life to save you? My answer isyes.” He spits the words as if I’ve insulted him and I know I have. “My fucking answer would be yes,everygoddamn time, and you don’t see it.” He lowers his head so our eyes catch in attempt to reinforce what he’s saying, the darkness in them commanding my attention. “Youdon’tsee it. So why even try to understand anything about me if you can’t see something as simple as me stopping to save a life?” His face is almost shadowed in the low lighting of the cab but it doesn’t hide the darkening of his eyes, the scowl across his face as the temperature around me cools. He’s displaying so much anger and I have no idea where it’s coming from, just that it’s suddenly directed at me. “I do it because I’m very much aware that I could be one call away from being called to saveyou.”

For a moment, there’s nothing but silence in the truck. His breathing, my breathing, together filling in the empty space between us.

I’m caught off guard by his honesty because, holy fucking shit . . . I had to dig deep to get any truth, but when he opens up, the honesty’s heartbreaking.

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