Page 13 of Melting for the Firefighter

Cora sees it.

“Grandma.”

The word breaks behind the mask.

I take the book from him.

Her grandmother’s journal.

“It’s here.”

“Don’t lose it.”

“I won’t.”

Her eyes close again.

The ambulance doors shut between us.

I turn toward the building.

Zain stands near the command vehicle, helmet under one arm. Firelight moves over the scars at the edge of his collar.

His eyes move over me, checking my face, my hands, my gear.

“Go through rehab,” he says. “Let the medic clear you.”

I look at the crews working the fire.

“That is an order, Renner.”

The medic clears me. I hand over my gear and go.

The emergency department smells like antiseptic and stale coffee.

I sit in the waiting area with Cora’s journal on my knees. The worn cover is singed. Several edges are black, but the pages inside are intact.

Her grandmother’s handwriting covers them.

I close the journal before I read something that belongs only to Cora.

An hour passes.

Then another.

Jordan appears around midnight carrying a plastic bag and two coffees.

“Chief sent your clothes. Your wallet and keys too. I grabbed one of your sweatshirts for Cora and brought your truck over.”

He hands me a cup.

“Thanks.”

Jordan sits beside me. He is twenty-four and built like a damn tree, but there is nothing careless about him tonight.

“Fire is out,” he says. “Front took most of it. Apartment has smoke and water damage. Structure is standing.”

“Her things?”