Page 95 of Second Start: Family
He disappeared from Hall’s straining vision, the leaping, gyrating flames and smoke all he could see.
Then Dan was there. In the flames. In the smoke.
Every instinct screamed at Hall to go toward him, but Dan needed room to run through. He didn’t need his father blocking his way, slowing him down.
Dan broke out of the ring.
Not taking time to confirm if any of the flames had caught onto his son, Hall grabbed him and dropped him to the ground, rolling him, rolling with him. And even after he was sure, rolling him again and again.
Before dragging both of them upright again.
Fire didn’t hold still. They needed to watch its movements every second.
But for these few breaths, Hall drew Dan in against his chest, shielding his back with his arms, wishing he was big enough — or Dan was small enough — that he could surround him. He felt the boy’s heart echo against his own ribs. Felt the strong, hard reverberations. Felt the rising and fall of his boy breathing, felt it expanding against his chest, lifting his arms.
“The … kids?” Dan panted.
“The kids are fine.” Now. Now all his kids were fine. “Kenzie’s got them in the truck taking them back to the perimeter. They’re safe. We’ll get you back to the perimeter, too, and—”
“I know you say to stay on your horse, don’t lose your transportation, but he was so spooked, I couldn’t calm him, and I couldn’t fight the fire from horseback. I let him go, figuring he’d get to safety. I slowed it some, but then the wind came up— It’s heading for the house again. If we don’t fight, it’ll take everything. I’m not going. We’ve got to fight it.”
Hall stared at his son, saw the man forming there.
He took him by the shoulders. “If I say run, you run, you understand? No matter what. You swear?”
“I swear.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Kenzie brought the three kids and two dogs safely into the schoolhouse. Her relief was heartfelt, but partial with Hall and Dan still out there.
Volunteers organized in the older kids’ room with spare equipment, provisions, and people in the younger kids’ room.
She left the kids there, then went to the volunteers’ room.
Vicky stood not far into the room with her hands on her hips, her expression giving absolutely no quarter as she faced a black man in front of her, saying something low and fast.
“No!” Vicky shouted, taking one step back.
“Honey, I’m the perfect man for the job.” He raised his shoulders toward a shrug. Kenzie saw prosthetic hands follow the gesture in syncopation. “What I could lose can be replaced.”
Was this…? It had to be Vicky’s husband. Kenzie sucked in a breath.
“What I could lose can’t be replaced,” Vicky yelled at him.
They looked at each other.
He stepped close, put his arms around her, then used one hand to spread the fingers of the other across her back.
“I love you, Vicky Otter.”
“You just showed up here and now—”
“I’m leaving, but I won’t be lost. Not anymore. I’m coming back so you can yell at me good and proper for staying away.”
“And for sending me away. You better come back. You hear me?”
He kissed her and she kissed him back with all her stored-up love and longing.
