Page 3 of Wild Fire

Barrett? I didn’t think Mrs. Barrett had any family left after her husband and daughter passed away a few years ago.

“I’m going to get you out of here, okay, Nate?” I tell him, focusing on the imperative situation instead of town gossip.

Nate nods, a sob escaping him amid another deep coughing fit.

“Oh, fuck…” His voice shakes as he stumbles. He could be injured, or it might be from the adrenaline, or nerves. I’ll let the paramedics make that call. My job is to get Nate to them first, then they can take over from there.

“Put all your weight on me, Nate,” I order while supporting him as he settles on his feet. He stumbles again as some debris falls beside us. I tighten my grip on him, and he leans into me with ease; his head resting against my chest, just beneath my shoulder as I hold him close with all the strength I have. I can’t let go of him, not until we’re out of this house and he’s safe.

Until I know he’s safe…

Because that’s what I do best.

“Keep your eyes on my feet,” I tell him as I propel us forward. “Move with me. You can do it. That’s right—”

Slowly but surely, he moves his feet, letting me guide him. His hand on my side grips my jacket tightly. We make it just behind Sterling not a moment too soon. Part of the floor above us falls behind us, with debris flying and frayed wires sparking as the house shakes. Dark’s voice orders us out, and I know time is of the essence.

I push forward, dragging Nate with me as we follow the others out of the house and onto the lawn, towards the curb. I clutch Nate as tightly as I can, not stopping as my heart races from the adrenaline and from years of experience. This is what keeps me present. The sound of his labored breaths and groans, the smell of smoke, the sound of the sirens, and the heavy beat of my heart as I make it through the flames.

Nate’s legs move like dead weight, and I feel how his entire body shakes against me; the fear vibrating off him like a living thing.

He’s scared, and rightfully so. I know what that feels like to be in his place. It’s not something that can be easily forgotten, even after all these years. But I don’t have time to think about that right now. Right now, I have to focus on Nate, and getting him to the paramedics.

“I got you,” I tell him, my voice strong and firm. I’m not sure if it’s him I’m reassuring or myself. Maybe both? Nate coughs again, his fingers gripping my jacket tightly as we make it to the curb, barely ten feet from the ambulances, and the sound of something exploding echoes around us, eliciting gasps and curses from the crowd that’s formed around the perimeter. A rush of heat plumes the air, and Nate’s body buckles against my own.

He turns around in my arms, looking back at the house, and I follow his line of sight, my heart sinking when I see what he does.

The left side of the house folds in on itself like a deck of cards, disintegrating into ash and ruin right before our eyes. My blood chills despite the sweat forming beneath my uniform, and for a moment, I feel like I can’t breathe. It’s like I’m back there, staring at my childhood home collapsing with my father inside.

“No…” he cries, and I swear, despite the fact he couldn’t move before, he all but leaps from my arms like a damn frog towards the house. I barely have a second to register what’s happening before I react. I don’t think; I just grab him, then lift him off the ground like a rag doll as he sobs. He’s lighter than I expect, or maybe it’s just me. Whatever the case, his body continues to shake along with the echoes of his sobs as he reaches for something that is no longer there.

Home.

Memories.

Nate collapses against me as I pull him back, bringing me back to the here and now. I tighten my grip on him with ‌stern force so he won’t fucking run into the fire I just saved his ass from. Fear and adrenaline—and survival instincts—make people do crazy things sometimes.

I would know.

Nate drops to the ground, sliding from my grasp, and though I know I should hold on, I can’t help but let him go, praying he doesn’t take any chances.

He doesn’t.

Instead, he only settles at my feet while he stares at the withering flames before us being doused with water from the hose. I glance down at the back of his head, at his dusty brownish-blonde hair that is streaked with soot and debris. I have the strangest desire to run my fingers through it, to untangle the knots and free it of all evidence of what happened here. I flex my fingers, balling them into a fist to keep from the sudden impulse. I don’t usually get like this with rescues. To be honest, I don’t usually get like this with most people, even my subs, when I have them.

Maybe I’m just off because the anniversary of my dad’s death and the fire that changed my life is around the bend. It always fucks me up, even though it’s been over twenty years.

I take a deep breath, shoving the impulse aside along with the unwanted memories and take a seat beside Nate on the curb, slowly.

The noise of the trucks, colliding with a symphony of sirens and incessant chatter echoes behind us, but all I can focus on at this moment is him.

Mr. Bright Eyes

Nate Barrett.

My shoulder brushes against his lightly and the words fall out of my mouth of their own volition, my voice strangely soft when I speak, despite the smoke-tinged rasp that is always present no matter how much time has passed.

“Everything is going to be okay.”