Chapter 6

Sarah

I wasn’t sure where I was, or really what I was. In some sense, my brain knew I shouldn’t be alive. And when my eyes opened, and I found myself peering at a dark green canopy of trees, I wondered, abstractly, if I was in some kind of heaven. Some kind of comfortable, easy heaven: with the night sky stretching above, dotted with stars.

I could still smell the smoke. It seemed to soak into every orifice of my body, my cells. I shifted slightly, feeling the scratch of a blanket against my breasts, and then blinked again, clearing my mind. “What—“ I whispered, unsure if I’d be able to speak.

“I think she’s awake.” This was an unfamiliar voice, bright and girlish, yet older. “The smoke’s really died down. Think they can save the house?”

“Not a house that size,” another voice said. This was gruffer, masculine. “It was nothing but a shack anyway. Far as I’m concerned, think we should burn down all the houses in Fountain Square. None of them have been kept up well. Screw historical conservation.”

“Why was she naked?” the woman asked, ignoring him.

“I don’t know. But he’s coming back, now. Seems he can’t get enough of her.”

My brain ached, wanting to understand. After a moment’s hesitation, I forced my eyes to blink, to comprehend the world around me. I forced myself back to reality.

That’s when I saw him.

He wore his fireman’s uniform, but had taken off his hat and his mask and was looking at me with large green eyes—almost as if he’d been waiting to meet me his entire life. I began to shift, trying to draw myself up on my shoulders. I realized I was naked, a newborn beneath the trees. I waited for him, watching as he slumped onto his knees and peered into my eyes. Behind him, my house was crumpled and black. Tears sprung to my eyes, a strange mix of joy, relief, and sheer, unadulterated sadness.

He was the most handsome man I’d seen up close. Dark green eyes, dark blond hair curling around his ears, and this honest, yet confident smile. His accent was southern, adorable. “Hey there,” he drawled, making my stomach clench with fear. “I’m so glad you’re awake. We’ve been waiting on you.”

“What do you mean?” I whispered. “Waiting on me?”

“You didn’t think I’d leave you before you woke up, did you?” he asked, laughing slightly. He reached forward and brought his hands under my head, creating a kind of pillow. “We should have something for your head out here. You were unconscious. This can’t be good for you. At all.”

“I’m fine,” I murmured, still unable to look away from his bright, searching eyes. “My house. It’s gone?”

His face fell slightly. “I’m afraid so. The kitchen burnt to a crisp, and the rest of it is pretty damaged. Tons of heat damage. What you did was the right thing, hiding in the bathroom, with the towels beneath the door. It gave us enough time to save your life.”

I reached up and gripped his wrist. It was so thick, I wasn’t able to wrap my fingers all the way around it. “I’m such an idiot,” I whispered, remembering the dinner I was cooking, the wine I had drunk. “I didn’t mean for anything to happen. I didn’t mean for anyone to get hurt.”

“I know,” he said, his voice scratchy and earnest. “Baby, there’s no harm done, okay? You’re safe. You’re going to be fine. And nobody else was hurt in the fire.”

“You—you saved my life,” I continued, feeling my anxiety rise within me. My heart hammered in my chest. “I have to find some way to repay you. I have to—“

I heard the sirens behind me. I turned my head swiftly, catching the ambulance as it bucked against the curb. Two paramedics rushed to the back and drew out a stretcher, before racing it toward me. I began to protest, to shake my head vehemently. I didn’t want him to let me go.

“Please,” I whispered, gazing into this strange man’s eyes. “I want to stay with you.”

“You are staying with me,” he said back, squeezing my hand. “You’re staying alive. That’s all I wanted, when I went into that house today. You lived. And you’re going to live to do amazing things.”

The paramedics eased me onto the stretcher, ensuring the blanket remained on my naked frame. I yearned for the firefighter’s hands to graze my breasts, to take over my body, to hold me tight. But he took three steps back, allowing them to move me toward the back of the ambulance.

He said he knew what was best for me.

Somehow, I had to believe him.

Moments before they lurched me into the back of the ambulance, I cried out to him, sensing his eyes still upon me.

“What’s your name?”

“Theo!” he called back, standing stoic, firm. “And I know you already. You’re Sarah.”

“Sarah Goldlein,” I said, giggling slightly. I felt butterflies flickering in my stomach. I felt alive. The memory of drawing my name on the bathroom mirror felt like a dream, now. It couldn’t have happened. And yet, he had seen it. That was the only explanation.

“Thank you, Theo. Thank you from the bottom of my heart.”

The paramedics pushed the stretcher into the back, tossing the doors closed behind them. The engine cranked beneath us, pushing the ambulance down Spann Avenue and toward the hospital. My heart pattered in my chest; my eyes pierced the white ambulance ceiling overhead. Frightened, panicked, I clutched the blanket atop my chest, praying, somewhere in the back of my mind, that I would see Theo again.

That we would find space for one another, under different circumstances.

Now that I was alive—and really, completely wanting to be—I would live in all the ways I hadn’t, before. I wouldn’t waste time on assholes like Josh. I would find passion, intrigue, life.

I deserved it.