Page 30 of The Smokejumper's Lady
She’s here. She came.
But then the voice pierces my subconscious. It’s calm, professional.
“Mr. Lewis? Can you hear me?”
My vision sharpens cruelly.
It’s not her.
The woman in front of me isn’t Clea. She’s got the same dark hair, but it’s pulled into a neat bun, and she’s wearing a white coat. A stethoscope swings from her neck. Behind her, a nurse is scribbling notes on a chart.
I blink slowly. “You’re not…damn.”
The doctor smiles sympathetically. “Sorry to disappoint. I’m Dr. Haley. You’re at Flathead Medical. You’ve been out for a little over a day.”
A day?
I try to sit up, and pain shoots through my chest like a hot iron. I grit my teeth.
“Easy,” she says, stepping forward. “You inhaled a dangerous amount of smoke. We had to give you oxygen and fluids. Your chart looks good now, but you’ll need rest.”
I nod slowly, absorbing the words. It’s a miracle I’m not worse off. That whole drop…it was hell. The kind you only survive if someone upstairs decides it’s not your time yet.
“What about the others?” I ask, throat raw. “My team. Unit 347.”
She nods reassuringly. “They’re all stable. A few minor burns and bruises, some smoke inhalation like you, but everyone’s alive.”
Relief crashes over me so hard I have to close my eyes.Thank God.
She pats my hand gently. “Try to rest. You’ve done more than enough.”
Then she’s gone, leaving the room too quiet. Too still.
My mind drifts, immediately, to Clea.
Did she see the news?
Did she think I was—
God.
I close my eyes and picture her face. The last time I saw her, she was being pulled away, her face a storm of hurt and fear and that quiet, breaking kind of strength I’ve never seen in anyone before. She didn’t cry. But I know she wanted to.
She told me her parents were tough. Controlling. But I didn’t realize just how much they’d been breaking her spirit until I saw her flinch when her dad raised his voice.
I should’ve run after her. Told her everything I was thinking. Everything I felt.
That I’d never let anyone hurt her again.
That she’smine.
Instead, I played it cool. Told myself it wasn’t the right time.
I’m a goddamn idiot.
I know now that there’s no “right time.” There’s only time, and it runs out faster than we think.
As soon as I’m back on my feet, I’m going to find her. I don’t care what it takes. I don’t care who I have to go through. Clea’s not just a summer fling. She’s the spark I didn’t know I needed. The one who cracked through my quiet, grumpy armor and made me feel alive again.
