Page 64 of Never Forget
This was how it ended. In the room my father and Jack built for me when I was seven. With Jack's daughter in my arms and no way out.
I held her tighter and waited.
The door exploded off its hinges.
A firefighter came through the smoke, moving fast. He crossed the room in three steps and lifted us both off the floor like we weighed nothing. Rosie clung to me and I clung to her and he carried us down through the burning house, through the smoke and the heat, until suddenly there was cold air on my face and grass under my feet.
He set us down gently. Rosie pulled back from my chest and looked up at him.
"I knew you'd come!"
He reached up and pulled off his mask.
Sam.
His face was streaked with sweat and soot. His eyes found mine and held them, and for a second everything else disappeared. The fire. The smoke. The chaos around us. There was only him, looking at me.
He stepped toward me. His voice was rough.
"I swore on my life. I will always protect you."
CHAPTER 16
Jamie
The emergency room was bright and loud and too full of people.
I sat on a bed behind a thin curtain with Rosie pressed against my side. Somewhere nearby, a machine beeped. Voices overlapped, nurses called to each other. A man down the hall coughed. Someone was crying in a room I couldn't see. The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, washing everything in a flat, clinical white.
Rosie held the envelope of drawings against her chest. She hadn't let go of it since we got off the ambulance. Her eyes were wide open, tracking every sound, every movement beyond the curtain. When a door slammed somewhere down the hall, her whole body went rigid. When footsteps passed by, her head snapped toward the sound.
I put my arm around her and pulled her closer. I should say something to comfort her, tell her everything was going to be okay, but I couldn't find the words.
"Miss Donovan?"
The curtain pulled back. A nurse stepped in with a chart in hand. She had kind eyes and dark hair that was pulled neatly back. Her face was familiar, but my brain was moving too slowto place it. I stared at her for a long moment, trying to make the connection.
She gave me a small, sad smile. "I'm not sure if you remember me. I came to your brother's funeral."
It clicked.
The woman Jack saved. She'd stood at the edge of the cemetery with her daughter and her nephew, waiting to pay her respects. She'd pressed her card into my hand and told me to call if I ever needed anything.
"Jenna," I said. My voice came out rough from the smoke.
"I'm so sorry this happened to you." She stepped closer and rested her hand on the bedrail. "I'm going to take care of you both, okay?"
I nodded. The relief of seeing a familiar face loosened something in my chest.
Jenna turned to Rosie first. "Hi, sweetheart. I'm Jenna. I'm going to make sure you're okay." She held up a small clip. "Can I put this on your finger? It doesn't hurt. It will tell me how your lungs are doing."
Rosie looked at me. I nodded. She held out her hand, and her eyes stayed fixed on Jenna, watching her every move.
Jenna ran through the rest of her checks—stethoscope, vitals, questions about coughing and chest tightness. She was gentle and unhurried, explaining each step before she did it. Then she did the same for me.
"We're going to keep you both overnight for observation," she said when she finished. "Smoke inhalation can cause delayed symptoms, so we want to make sure you're okay before we send you home." She looked at Rosie, who was still sitting ramrod straight, clutching the envelope. "Let me get a room ready so she can rest somewhere more comfortable."
"Thank you," I managed.
