Page 37 of Rocky Mountain Cowboy Christmas
Despite the oxygen mask, Mackenzie managed to hear her words. “No, it shouldn’t’ve.” Her tone was upbeat but firm. “He has the training and the equipment, and you barely managed to get yourself out. He’s done this hundreds of times. It’s his favorite thing, saving kittens. He’s great at it, too.”
The matter-of-fact way she spoke made Camille’s tightly wound muscles relax the slightest bit. She remembered the way Steve had said he’d be careful and that he’d get Lucy out. It’d been a firm promise, and she needed to trust him to keep his word. “That’s a dangerous hobby. Aren’t you worried, watching him walk in there like that—or whenyouwalk into a fire?”
“Sure.” Mackenzie unwrapped the blood pressure cuff from Camille’s arm. “It’s always there, at least a little, on every call. It keeps me careful. I can’t let it take over, though. Panic never helps anyone. We just have to trust in our training and our partners to keep us safe.”
As true as that was, Camille couldn’t keep from staring at the house, willing Steve to walk out unharmed. The red glow seemed to be brightening in the lower-level windows, and Camille flinched at the sound of breaking glass. “Did something explode?” Her heart felt like it was going to beat out of her chest.
“No.” Mackenzie sounded just as calm as she had before, and Camille took comfort in that. “The glass just got too hot.”
Her gaze raked the windows and doors for any sign of Steve, but there was nothing. “Shouldn’t he be out by now?”
“It hasn’t been very long,” Mackenzie reassured her. “It just feels that way.” After a pause, she nudged Camille with her elbow. “Look over there.” She pointed at a trio of firefighters carrying a tall ladder toward the house.
“What are they doing?”
“Opening a back door.”
As Camille watched, they set the ladder against the house, next to her bedroom window. Two of the firefighters stayed at the bottom, supporting the ladder, while the other quickly scaled it. By the time he reached the top, the window had opened and a helmeted head poked out.
“Steve,” she murmured, relief pouring through her at the sight of him, alive and upright and apparently unhurt. As he climbed out of the window, assisted by the fireman already on the ladder, her heart dropped again. He wasn’t holding a cat. “He doesn’t have Lucy.”
Gently rubbing Camille’s back, Mackenzie said, “I’m sorry.”
The simple words made Camille realize that it was true—Lucy was gone. Steve hadn’t been able to find her. Grief hit her hard, making her rock forward as she clutched her arms around herself. She’d had Lucy for over eight years, since the cat was an ill-tempered stray who’d started sleeping on Camille’s porch one winter.
Now Lucy was gone. Camille was completely and utterly alone in the world.
As ravaged as she felt on the inside, her eyes stayed dry. It hurt too much to cry. For the first time that night, she wondered what had caused the fire. Had she made a mistake, left something burning, missed a smoldering spark? Had she done this—killed her cat and destroyed her grandma’s house, her home?
Steve strode over to her, and she braced herself to hear him say it, to tell her that he hadn’t been able to keep his promise, that Lucy would never curl into the bend of her knees at night or drop a live mouse on her toes again.
He pulled off his helmet as he approached, and unzipped his jacket partway. His expression was his usual implacable one, but she knew it had to be hard for him to admit that he’d failed, and Camille added his pain to her growing pile of guilt so she could agonize over it later, when the numbness she was feeling now started to wear off.
Completely empty of words, she silently watched him approach. She wanted to tell him that it wasn’t his fault and that she was grateful—hugely grateful—that he’d attempted to save Lucy, but she couldn’t manage to say a thing. Instead, she watched blankly as he reached into his jacket. He stopped in front of her and withdrew his hand, extracting a small bundle. The harsh area lights the firefighters had set up illuminated a ball of calico fluff. Camille blinked, her brain trying to process what she was seeing, and it wasn’t until she heard Lucy’s deeply unhappy growl that the truth sank in.
Steve had saved Lucy after all.
Sucking in a harsh breath and ignoring the protest of her sore throat, she stared at Steve’s smile and then back at her cat—her beautiful, angry, totally alive cat. Even with the evidence in front of her, she found it hard to believe. Steve and Lucy began to blur as tears filled her eyes and ran unchecked down her cheeks.
“You found her?” Her voice came out hoarse and breathless, the last word catching on a sob.
Steve held out the squirming, spitting cat. “She was just where you’d said she’d be.”
Taking Lucy into her arms, she hugged the cat to her, not caring that Lucy’s claws were digging through her clothes and pricking her skin. She welcomed the pain, actually. It was what convinced her that Lucy was really and truly alive.
“You saved the cat!” Mackenzie cheered, and Steve gave her an offended look.
“Of course I saved the cat. Ialwayssave the cat.”
Camille gave a soggy laugh. “Thank you. Sorry I doubted you. I just…” The tears started again, clogging her voice. “When we d-didn’t see her at first…” She couldn’t say it. It was too fresh and painful, even with Lucy now safely in her arms.
“Sorry for scaring you.” Steve crouched down so they were face-to-face. “I needed my hands free for the ladder.”
She shook her head. “No, you don’t need to apologize. You’re wonderful. You saved Lucy. I—”I love youalmost slipped out, but she caught it in time. “Thank you, Steve. Thank you for Lucy…and for not letting me go back inside to die.”
“I’ll always keep you safe.” In the charged silence that followed his quiet declaration, he dropped his eyes for a moment. When he raised them again, his gaze was cautious. “That’s part of my job description, after all. Keeping everyone safe…peopleandcats.”
There was tension in his voice and in the way he rushed out his words that Camille didn’t understand. On a good day, she wasn’t that great at subtext, and this definitely was not a good day. She was stripped raw inside and incapable of saying anything except the truth.
