Cam was missing Ian from her bed. How did she get so attached to him being in it?
When did she start to think it could have been more? That she wanted more?
She needed to rationalize things now so she could understand better. So she could cope.
Before they’d first started taking each other’s clothes off on her couch, that was for sure a time when she’d felt more. She wouldn’t regret that or all the times they’d been together after.
It wasn’t really when he first met her that she felt more. No, it was probably when he took care of her when the snake was delivered. Had to be that. Big rough Ian Price stepping up and calming her, taking charge and letting her know he had it under control.
Or not those times. And there was no reason to find that exact time because it didn’t matter.
What mattered now was that she needed to distance herself because she realized she’d been a fool to think they could have more.
They had nothing in common and never would. There was no way to make a relationship work and she was stupid to think otherwise.
He’d go back to his world of chasing bad guys and she’d go back to hers of trying to make people feel better.
Polar opposites. That was them.
She sent him her final text for the night that she was turning in and would talk to him in the morning. He replied back quickly, so she shut her light off and wondered if he was lying in bed thinking of her.
If he was missing her as much as she was missing him.
Then she told herself to stop fantasizing or wishing for something that could never be. That could never work out. She didn’t belong in his world as much as he didn’t belong in hers.
How many times had they’d run into people he knew who joked and laughed over their relationship?
How many times did she avoid going places where people she knew could see them together?
Subconsciously, she’d been trying to hide it all along. Not because she was embarrassed, which she knew he’d thought. He hadn’t said it, but she’d seen it in his eyes and pretended she didn’t. Just like this whole thing had been a make-believe world they were living in.
She hadn’t been embarrassed. She’d been scared. She was learning to rely on him too much and she needed to stop that.
She sighed deeply and tried to get comfortable, hoping to fall asleep at some point.
She must have because suddenly she was sitting up straight when she heard a crash and her alarms started to go off.
Then she panicked, but grabbed her phone and was going to run out the door. But what if whoever was in her house was coming up the stairs for her? She was trapped again. Where would she go? What would she do? Should she try to jump out the window?
Just as she was ready to lock herself in her closet again and call Ian, she smelled smoke. Not again. This couldn’t be happening.
She opened her door and the smoke was filling up her stairs. When she started to move toward it, she realized her kitchen was on fire. Flames crawling up the walls that she could see from the balcony above, her curtains burning like a wildfire in drought-infested California.
The heat was making her sweat, the smoke causing her to cough. Her phone slipped from her hand and she didn’t bother to look for it. She got as close to the ground as she could, crawling around like she remembered being taught so long ago.
The fire was moving toward her stairs now and she knew she’d have to jump over it to get out. She had to get to the front door, it was the only way. The back was blocked. The back where the kitchen was.
She didn’t think it was possible for a fire to move this fast, but it seemed like everything was flashing in front of her. The more she coughed the more she sucked in smoke and knew she had to move.
With one last little prayer, she stood up and ran, jumped the last few stairs, feeling flames on her bare feet but pushing on and yanking the front door open, then collapsed on the lawn, gasping for air as her neighbors all rushed to her side.
The patrol car that was assigned to her neighborhood came to a screeching halt, and an officer ran toward her, pushing everyone back. At least she wasn’t alone. That was her last thought before she passed out.
***
Ian was breaking speed records on his way to Cam’s the minute his phone went off that her alarms had been tripped. He tried calling her, but she wasn’t answering, raising his anxiety to skyscraper heights.
When he turned the corner and saw the fire trucks, he hit the gas hard, only to be passed by an ambulance speeding out of the neighborhood. Going with his gut, he turned around and followed it to the hospital.
He never should have left her alone.
He never should have let his personal feelings influence his decisions.
He never should have fallen in love with her.
Now she was hurt. Burned? Was she even alive?
Would he be able to tell her how he felt?
He jumped out of his vehicle the minute the ambulance stopped and ran to the back where they opened the doors and were rushing Cam in. There was an oxygen mask on her face, she was covered in black soot, and her hands and feet had bandages on them.
“How is she?” he yelled to the paramedics.
“Second- and third-degree burns on her hands and feet. She’s awake and alert, but needs to be treated for smoke inhalation and her burns taken care of.”
They were rushing her down the hall with him running next to them. Then he was shut out and there was nothing he could do but wait.
Two hours seemed like two years while he paced around the waiting room for any word. He called Gary, not caring that he got him out of bed. Now Gary was here, being told Cam’s parents were notified and on their way.
What would he say to them? How could he explain that he didn’t do his job? That he failed her.
The doctor came out. “Ian Price? Detective Price?”
“That’s me,” he said, rushing forward. “How is she? Is she going to be okay?”
“She’s lucky. Quick thinking for sure. Definitely courageous. A lot of people see fire in their way and panic. She jumped over it. Her feet suffered third-degree burns in some spots, but she’ll be fine. Her hands suffered some burns too, but like I said, she’ll heal. We’ve got her on oxygen as she inhaled a lot of smoke, but she’s lucky to be alive.”
No thanks to him. “Can I go see her now?”
“She’s asking for you. Follow me.”
When the curtain was pulled aside he saw her there with an oxygen mask still on her face and tears in her eyes. “Hey,” he said, walking closer. He wanted to hold her hand but didn’t want to touch her, afraid of causing her more pain.
She started to move her head around, then lifted her hand and nudged the mask away to speak. “Don’t cry. I’m going to be fine,” she rasped out.
He had no clue there were tears in his eyes, but he started to feel them fall down his cheeks. “I’m so sorry. I should have been there with you.”
“Then you’d be here in bed next to me. Just get the bastard that did this. You can’t do that if you’re hurt too.”
What a woman. She wasn’t crying over what had happened to her. She was fighting. She was fighting back and she wanted him to fight for her.
“I will. You’ve got my word.”
He brought his hand up to put the mask back in place when she started to cough. She was shaking her head for him not to, but he didn’t want her to talk right now. There would be time for that later.
She closed her eyes and fell asleep while he sat there next to her. When her parents came rushing in, he left the room, then left the hospital. He had someone to catch.