Page 74 of Ashes of Us
I left before he could say my name again.
CHAPTER 29: LIAM
Pain woke me.
It started in my shoulder and spread like someone had replaced my bones with broken glass. Everything hurt. My ribs, my chest, even breathing.
I opened my eyes.
White ceiling, fluorescent lights.,the steady beep of monitors. That particular smell of antiseptic and cafeteria food and something else, something that meant hospital.
I was alive.
That was... unexpected.
I tried to move and immediately regretted it. My shoulder screamed, and my ribs felt like they'd been used as a punching bag. Even breathing hurt.
But Iwasbreathing.
Which meant I'd made it out.
Memory came back in pieces. The fire, flaming tongues of destruction dancing all around me. The stairs. Daniel pinned under the beam. The kid. Getting them both out. Then?—
The beam.
I remembered seeing it fall, remembered throwing myself forward, remembered the impact and then nothing.
"Liam?"
My mother's voice. I turned my head as slowly as I could and found her sitting in a chair by the window. She looked like she'd aged ten years. Her eyes were red, hair pulled back in a messy ponytail. She'd clearly been here a while.
My dad was standing behind her, hand on her shoulder, still in that Riverside Fire Department t-shirt he always wore around the house.
"Hey," I managed. My voice came out rough, barely more than a whisper.
My mother's face crumpled. She was out of her chair and at my bedside before I could blink, her hand grabbing mine.
"You idiot," she said, and she was crying. "You absolute idiot."
"Love you too, Mom."
She laughed through her tears and squeezed my hand tighter. "Don't you ever do that again."
"Can't promise that. It's kind of the job."
"Liam—"
"He's awake, Sharon. Let him breathe." Dad's voice was gruff, but his eyes were wet too.
Mom wiped her face and sat back down, but she didn't let go of my hand.
"How bad is it?" I asked.
Dad pulled up a chair. "Fractured scapula. They had to do surgery to repair it. Three broken ribs. Smoke inhalation. You're going to be out of commission for a while."
A while. Meaning weeks, maybe months.
"The others?" I asked. "Daniel Collins. The kid."
