A tickle in my nose pulls me awake. I blink heavily against the florescent lights and swipe a hand across my face, but it gets caught on something plastic. I sit up in bed, pulling at the offending object.

Oxygen tubing?

Air hisses out of the nasal cannula. I stare at it, blinking, and then it hits me. The fire. I collapse against the pillows. My mind races to remember everything that happened, but it’s all fuzzy.

“You’re awake.” Mom rushes into the room and wraps me in her arms. “Oh, baby, I’ve been worried sick about you.” She kisses my forehead and my cheek, and then pulls back. “How do you feel?”

I take a deep breath and blow it out, taking stock of my body. Nothing feels out of the ordinary except a burning feeling at my forehead, but when I lift my hand, there’s no bandage, so I must’ve imagined it. A glance under the blanket shows my legs and arms intact and sans any sort of cast. “I think I’m okay. What day is it?”

She frowns. “Thursday. You were in and out all night. The doctors said you hit your head pretty hard, but they don’t believe you suffered a concussion, only smoke inhalation. You should make a full and quick recovery. But I think you took ten years off of my life. Thank God I have Phil. He kept me sane through all of this.”

“I’m sorry, Mom.”

She shakes her head and blinks away tears. “Don’t be. You’re here, and you’re okay, and that’s all that matters. Do you remember what happened?”

“There was a fire.” Pressing my lips together, I close my eyes and try to access the details. As I talk, the fog starts to lift. “The fire alarms went off. We evacuated. I remember counting the kids and then…oh God!” I dart back up in bed. “The boys. Marcus and Troy.”

Mom holds my hand in hers. “Shhhh... It’s okay. The boys are okay.”

My eyes open. “They are? Are you sure?”

“I’m sure. They were kept overnight for smoke inhalation and released this morning. They’re doing great.”

Oh, thank God. My heart rate begins to slow and then kicks back up as the little details flood in.

I’m the reason the boys were in that situation.

When the fire alarms sounded, I hesitated. I shouldn’t have wavered even for a second, knowing lives could’ve been on the line—that’s something my dad taught me. Except I did. I let my guard down, and by the time I realized what was going on, all I could think about was getting the class to safety.

I wasn’t even thinking about the boys in the bathroom, not until I was already out of the building. I failed.

All of the kids made it out unharmed, and for that I should be happy. I am grateful. But that doesn’t erase the barrage of remorse. I put those kids’ lives at risk—especially the boys in the bathroom—and the thought of them getting hurt because of me makes my stomach churn. I am so much more than a teacher. When they’re with me, away from their parents, it’s my job to protect them. I failed them, and I also failed my father.

Be safe, Claire Bear. I hear his words in my head. But I wasn’t. I wasn’t safe. I didn’t heed his warnings and look at where that got us.

Squeezing my eyes shut, a soft sob pulls from my chest. Mom wraps me in her arms, holding me close.

“Oh, sweetheart. You’ve been through so much. I know how scary that must’ve been for you especially after…” Her words trail off.

Wiping my face, I look up. “After Daddy,” I say, finishing for her.

A wistful smile pulls at her lips. “You remind me so much of your father. You get your bravery from him.”

I swallow past the sour lump in my throat. I want so badly to tell her she’s wrong, that I wasn’t strong, and I didn’t act the way Daddy taught me to, but I can’t get the words out. I don’t want to disappoint her too.

“I’m not brave,” I manage, wiping the tears from my face.

Mom’s brows dip low. “Claire, you ran into a burning building to save two children. Most people would never do that. You put your life on the line to help someone else. If that isn’t being brave, I don’t know what is.”

Her words penetrate deep inside of me, causing a new wave of guilt and frustration. I could’ve died—the same way my father did. What would that have done to my mother? And Milo.

“Milo.”

“She’s fine,” Mom soothes. “She’s at my house.”

That doesn’t make me feel better. If anything, it makes me feel worse. Tears drip down my face. I wipe them away, but they keep falling, and I bury my face against Mom’s shoulder.

“I’m sorry, Mom,” I cry, my voice muffled by the soft cotton of her shirt.

She shakes her head. “Sweetheart, don’t apologize. You have nothing to be sorry for. I think you’re just overwhelmed and probably in shock. Let me go get the doctor.”

It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell her it’s not shock that has me so worked up, it’s guilt. I want to tell her what happened—all of the things I did wrong.

Instead, I nod. “Okay.”

“Mo is out there. Would you like me to send her in?”

If there’s one person in the world I need right now besides my mother, it’s Mo.

“Yes, please.”

“Okay, sweetie.” With a kiss to my forehead, Mom walks out, and a second later, Monroe rushes in.

I don’t even have time to process the thoughts racing through my head, let alone get control of my emotions, before she throws herself at me.

“You scared the shit out of me.” When she pulls back, I can see that her eyes are red and puffy. “Between you and Trevor, Rhett and I are about to have a heart attack.”

“Trevor? What happened to Trevor?” I ask, furrowing my brow, and there’s that burning feeling again. I rub against the tingling sensation and pull my fingers back, but there’s nothing there.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. My forehead feels funny.” I shake my head. “I’m sure it’s nothing. What happened with Trevor?”

Monroe blows out a harsh breath and studies me for a second. “You don’t remember?”

“Remember what?” And then it hits me. Trevor is a firefighter. “Oh my gosh, was he there? Please tell me he didn’t get hurt putting the fire out.”

Monroe shakes her head. “He didn’t get hurt putting the fire out. He got hurt saving your life,” she says softly, as if her tone could lessen the blow. But it’s too late. Monroe’s words are a sucker punch straight to the gut.

“What? What do you mean he got hurt saving my life?”

“Claire.” Monroe looks at the door. “Maybe the doctor should explain this, or your mother. I really thought you knew,” she says, bringing her gaze back to mine.

“I remember going in after the boys. I can recall bits and pieces of crawling through thick smoke, and the last thing I remember is a big body slamming down on mine.” I gasp, covering my mouth with my hand as the words pass through my lips, a fresh wave of tears sliding down my face. “That was Trevor?”

Monroe grabs some Kleenex. She hands one to me and then wipes the wetness from her cheeks. “Yes. I’m so sorry; I thought you knew.”

I shake my head. “No. How could I? The smoke was so thick. I could barely breathe, let alone see, and those firefighters—there were two. I couldn’t see their faces because of their masks, and their voices were muffled. God, Mo, all I could think about was getting out alive.”

Goosebumps race across my skin, the knot in my stomach from earlier growing with each passing second. “Is he okay? Please tell me Trevor is okay. And the other guy—do you know who he was?”

“Mikey. He’s fine. He got out with the boys, and Trevor stayed behind to help you up, only you two didn’t make it far before the ceiling caved in. According to the other firefighters, Trevor curled his body around yours and took the brunt of the falling debris.”

“I have to go see him.” I reach for my IV to pull it out, but Mo stops me.

“Wait until the doctors release you, and I’ll take you to his room. He’s only a few doors down.”

“I don’t want to wait.” What doesn’t she understand about that? “He saved my life, Mo. Not only did I put those kids’ life in danger, I put his in danger too. I need to get to him and see for myself that he’s okay and apologize and—”

“Whoa, Claire. Slow down. You didn’t put anyone’s life in danger. You got your class out, and you saved those boys.”

I shake my head, but it doesn’t deter her.

“Yes, you did. You were brave and—”

“Stop saying that,” I cry. “I wasn’t brave. Please, Mo. Please, take me to see him.”

“Claire.” She watches me cautiously, the same way my mother did minutes ago. “I don’t know what’s going through that head of yours, but you didn’t put anyone’s life in danger. That fire wasn’t your fault, and if it weren’t for you, who knows what would’ve happened to those boys. As for Trevor, fighting fires is what he does. It’s his job.”

“I understand that, but—” My words cut off with another sob. I need to keep my mouth shut. There’s no way Mo or Mom will understand. They didn’t hesitate. They don’t owe my father the way I do.

“But what? What were you going to say?”

“Nothing,” I whisper, fisting my hand against the blanket.

“I heard your mom talking to the doctor in the hallway. They’re going to release you sometime tomorrow,” she says, a spark of relief in her eyes. “Trevor has to stay a few more days, but as soon as you get released, I’ll take you to his room, okay?”

I nod and blow my nose. The Kleenex in my hand is frayed and tattered, much like my heart. “Please.”

“I promise. You’re going to get through this. And you can tell me anything. You know that, right? If you need to talk or vent—whatever, I’m here for you.”

Dropping my forehead to her shoulder, I sniff. “I know.”

Except I can’t. I can’t tell her like I can’t tell Mom, because what would they think of me?