Page 101 of Forget That Guy
I was immune to it now that I’d heard his voice.
“You need to come to my truck so I can get you on some oxygen…”
I was already shaking my head again.
This man looked like anyone off the street.
He wasn’t in a uniform of any kind.
He wasn’t even wearing his club cut.
The sound of his voice was the only reason I knew who he was.
“You seriously need to come with me,” he said as he reached for me.
I was up and moving despite not wanting to be moved.
The grip on my arm was a little bit tighter than it should be, and my heart was hammering in my throat as I started to panic for an altogether different reason that day.
Luckily, before I could get too freaked out, the grip on my shoulders loosened, and he set me back down on my feet.
My knees felt like Jello, and hardly supported my weight as he moved away from me.
I didn’t know why until Denver was standing in front of me, his hands cupping my face. “Are you okay?”
I croaked. “No!”
Tears started to trail down my face, and I threw myself at him.
The raccoons in my shirt protested the move, and I backed off and reached into my shirt to pull them both out.
He looked down at the little burdens in my hands and smiled.
That smile dropped off my face as he looked at the building behind me.
“I don’t see any fire.”
“That’s because it’s in the walls,” someone said.
Not the man who had been here earlier.
A new one.
“And the fire suppression system was disabled.”
I blinked and turned to find an attractive older man that looked vaguely familiar.
Black?
He was a firefighter, too?
“Volunteer,” he answered.
Had I said that aloud?
“Yes.” He laughed. “Every able-bodied man in Bear Pass, Jawbone, and Sawtooth is a volunteer firefighter.”
I guess that made perfect sense since we didn’t have a permanent one.
