Page 27 of The Smokejumper's Lady
“R-Ryan,” I say shakily, pointing to the screen. “That’s Ryan’s unit.”
“Who?” Mom asks, her brow furrowing in confusion.
“He’s the smoke jumper who saved me. He’s…out there.”
Mom’s eyes go wide. She stares at the footage for a long, quiet second before reaching over and pulling me into a hug.
It’s not the stiff, polite kind she usually gives. She holds me like she means it.
“I’m so sorry,” she whispers. “You really care about him, don’t you?”
I nod against her shoulder. “Yes. And now it might be too late.”
She pulls back and cups my cheek. “Breathe. One step at a time. If he means that much to you…we’ll find out where he is. We’ll do something.”
I blink at her in surprise. “You’ll help me?”
“Of course I will,” she says, already grabbing her phone. “Let’s figure out where the base is. Someone has to know something.”
We pull up news reports, maps, listings for wildland firefighting stations. My hands are shaking too hard to type, so she does most of it while I try to hold myself together.
I just have to know he’s okay.
The front door opens and a second later, Dad walks in, wiping his hands on a rag.
“What’s going on?” he asks.
“She’s trying to find the smoke jumper base,” Mom says, not missing a beat. “She wants to see if he’s okay.”
Dad frowns. “Who?”
“The smoke jumper who saved her life,” Mom replies curtly.
Dad lets out a loud scoff. “You mean the guy who stayed in a cabin all night with my daughter, unsupervised?”
I shoot up off the couch. “Dad, there’s no need to treat me like a child. Ryan saved my life.”
“I don’t care what he did. No daughter of mine is chasing after some reckless adrenaline junkie who thinks he’s invincible.”
“He’s not reckless,” I say, my voice rising. “He’s brave. He puts his life on the line for other people every single day. That’s not something to be ashamed of.”
“She’s right,” Mom cuts in, standing beside me now. “You were like that once too, remember? Wild. Fearless. That’s the man I fell in love with.”
Dad goes quiet. His jaw clenches.
For a long moment, none of us says anything.
Then he sighs, rubbing a hand down his face. “Fine. Do what you want. But don’t expect me to support it.”
“We didn’t ask,” Mom snaps.
I glance between them, stunned. And so deeply grateful. Without another word, I grab my phone and start dialing the number we found for the station.
I don’t know if they’ll answer. But I have to try. Because it feels like I’ll go crazy if I don’t do anything.
Someone picks up the phone on the third ring. It’s a woman with a kind voice, but her words are a mess of protocols and apologies that don’t tell me anything I need to hear.
“I’m sorry, ma’am. That’s all we can disclose right now. The situation is fluid. We’ll release updates as they come…”
