Page 83 of Smoke Signals

Voicemail.

I hang up without leaving a message and open our text thread instead.

Me: You okay?

The message sends instantly.

No response.

The reporter’s voice keeps talking in the background. “…two firefighters have been transported to the hospital with injuries…”

I check that the message still says delivered. It does.

Alaska drags fox across the carpet and climbs onto the couch without noticing anything is wrong. The cartoon starts again after the news segment cuts away.

I stare down at my phone.

Still nothing.

I send another message.

Me: Please answer.

The little check mark appears beside the text.

Delivered.

My chest feels so tight that breathing takes effort.

I set the phone on the table and stand up, pacing across the kitchen before turning back toward the television. My eyes move between the screen and the phone every few seconds.

Lance flashes across my mind without warning.

The hospital room, the smell of disinfectant. My voice breaking in the hallway while someone explains what happened.

I press my hand flat against the kitchen counter and force a slow breath out of my lungs.

Not again.

The phone stays silent as minutes stretch long enough to feel like hours.

Alaska hums quietly to herself while she colors at the coffee table. Every once in a while she glances up at me. I try to smile back.

The sound of a car honking outside makes my head snap toward the window. Headlights sweep across the living room wall before fading.

My phone still shows no new messages.

The footage on the screen loops; the same flames, the same smoke, over and over again.

The lock on the apartment door clicks, and for a second I freeze. Then the door opens slowly and Stellan steps inside.

His pants hang loose around his hips, and his jacket is slung over one shoulder. Soot streaks across his face and neck. His hair sticks out in every direction, like he dragged his helmet off five minutes ago. The smell of smoke fills the apartment immediately.

Alive.

My body moves before my brain catches up.

I cross the room in three steps and pull him down into a kiss hard enough that he stumbles forward against me. My hands grip his shirt while his arms wrap around my waist automatically.