Page 97 of When In Doubt

Get it the fuck together.

I can’t help her if I’m like this.

I’m vaguely aware of the snippets of conversation, the crew trying to talk to me as we pull out of the station, but I barely hear it. Instead, all I can think about is my dad’s face the day he died, when I couldn’t do anything except watch.

Fuck. No. This isn’t like that.

I won’t be helpless again. Not this time. Not when it’s her.

Mack starts calling out assignments. I expect him to tell me what he does at almost every callout we go to, that he and I will be first in.

“Murphy, you’re on the pump.”

“Mack,” I snarl, starting to protest, but he cuts me off.

“It’s that or nothing, kid.” He says it with absolute finality. “When we get in, Garcia’s gonna start us up, you can find your girl, then when you’re ready to do your fucking job, you can take over.”

It’s hard not to feel scolded, but I know he’s just saying what he has to. If we’re following procedure then I shouldn’t even be out here, not when I have a vested interest, but there’s nothing on this earth that could have kept me off this truck.

Even if it had, I’d just have run there.

The need to see her, to feel her safe in my arms, has a feeling building in my chest so intense it almost scares me.

I can’t lose her.

In a town the size of Cedar Creek, it doesn’t take us long to get anywhere, and we pull into the parking lot of Freya’s complex within ten minutes.

“Keep your head on,” Mack mutters to me as the team starts piling out.

My feet hit the tarmac and everything fades away as I look for her, my eyes on a swivel. I can hear the crew getting set up behind me, but it hardly registers. I scan the building. There’s smoke coming from a window and my chest tightens at the sight. Not Freya’s, but close.

There are people filing out of the building in groups. They mostly look alright, except for the occasional person coughing. An older woman in a bathrobe walks out, supported by a man who looks to be in his twenties. I run toward them and take her other arm, guiding her over to where an ambulance has just pulled up.

“Murph!” a voice yells from behind me. Once I’ve handed her off into the care of the EMTs, I turn to see Ryan. He points over to his left, and there she is.

My breath comes out like I’ve been punched.

I feel fused to the ground as I see her, perched on the end of somebody’s pickup truck, bare feet dangling. She’s looking off at the trees, like none of this is happening.

Where the fuck are her shoes? It’s only seven p.m., so most people out here are in regular clothes, but Freya must be having one of her early nights because all she’s wearing are her green-and-white-striped pajamas.

I run toward her, my gear thumping against my legs. She looks up when I’m a couple of meters away, her eyes softening as she sees me, the muscles in her jaw relaxing. I skid to a stop at her feet.

My hands itch to check that she’s alright, but for some reason, I can’t make them move. It’s like reaching for her will make this disappear, as if this is an illusion I’m too afraid to shatter.

But of course it’s Freya, braver than she knows, who closes the distance. Her fingers brush against mine and the contact is an electric shock through my system. Suddenly unbound, I lurch forward and pull her into my arms, her head finding its rest just below my chin.

“You’re okay,” I whisper into her hair. “You’re okay.”

“I’m okay.”

“Did you get hurt?” I pull back and take her face in my hands, running my thumbs under her eyes as I inspect her. There’s no visible sign of injury, but I know better than anyone that looks can be deceiving.

“I promise I’m alright.” She tugs at the hem of my jacket, her eyes imploring.

“Yeah.” I sigh, trying to force my breathing to slow down. After my initial reluctance to touch her, now I can’t let her go. I need to keep her here, tethered to me so she can’t go anywhere. “Yeah.”

She lets out a small cough and my heart rate ratchets up again.