The drive to St. Matthew's should have taken twelve minutes.
It felt like an hour.
Every red light seemed deliberately placed in my path. Every driver moving five miles below the speed limit became the person standing between me and my husband. I kept both hands locked around the steering wheel and repeated the same sentence silently.
He's alive.
He's alive.
He's alive.
It was the only thought I could manage.
At one intersection, my phone rang.
I grabbed it from the console so quickly that the car drifted toward the center line.
It was the hospital.
"Hello?"
"Amanda?"
"Yes."
"This is the emergency department. You're on your way?"
"Yes."
"We wanted to let you know that Mr. Tyler is stable."
Stable.
The word should have comforted me.
Instead, it reminded me how close I had come to hearing a different word.
"I'm almost there."
"All right. Please come directly to the second floor."
"I will."
The call ended.
I set the phone down.
My hands were trembling again.
I had spent years accepting that Tyler's job carried risks.
There was a difference between knowing something intellectually and seeing it waiting for you in a hospital room.
When I reached St. Matthew's, I left the car crooked in the parking space and didn't even notice until I was halfway through the entrance.
A nurse directed me upstairs.
I found his room at the end of a quiet corridor.
The door was open.
I saw his boots first.
They were on the floor beside the bed, covered in dust.
Then I saw Tyler.
He was awake.
My knees nearly gave out.
His left arm was secured against his chest. A bandage ran along his hairline, and bruising had already begun spreading across one side of his face.
But his eyes were open.
He looked at me.
And somehow, impossibly, he smiled.
"Hey."
I stood there.
For several seconds, I couldn't speak.
Then every emotion I had been holding during the drive came rushing back at once.
"You idiot."
His smile faded.
"Yeah."
"You absolute idiot."
"That's fair."
I crossed the room.
He lifted his good hand.
I took it.
His fingers were warm.
That was when I started crying.
Tyler squeezed my hand.
"I'm okay."
"No, you're not."
"I'm going to be."
I leaned down and kissed his forehead, carefully avoiding the bandage.
He closed his eyes.
For a moment, neither of us spoke.
Then I pulled back.
"You scared me."
"I know."
"You weren't supposed to do that."
"I know."
"You don't get to say 'I know' and make this disappear."
"I wasn't trying to."
I wiped my face.
"Good."
A nurse came in a few minutes later to check his vitals.
She explained what the doctors had found.
Three cracked ribs.
A fractured shoulder.
A concussion.
Several cuts and bruises.
They wanted to keep him overnight.
I listened carefully, asking questions whenever something wasn't clear.
Tyler watched me.
When the nurse left, he said, "You're doing the thing."
"What thing?"
"The interrogating-doctor thing."
"I have questions."
"I know."
"Stop saying that."
He smiled.
"Sorry."
I sat beside the bed.
Only then did I notice the faint smell of smoke still clinging to him.
It was mixed with hospital disinfectant, clean sheets, and something metallic from the medical equipment.
I hated the smell.
It reminded me that he had been inside a burning building only hours earlier.
"You said there was a warehouse fire."
"Yeah."
"How did it happen?"
"Electrical equipment, according to the investigators."
"Was anybody else hurt?"
"Two firefighters had minor injuries."
"And you?"
He glanced down at himself.
"I think we established that part."
I wasn't amused.
He sighed.
"Sorry."
I studied his face.
There was something strange about him.
Not physically.
Something in the way he was avoiding my eyes.
"Tyler."
"Hm?"
"Why didn't you call me?"
"I didn't have my phone."
"Why?"
"It was in the truck."
"Why didn't Reyes call?"
Tyler frowned.
"Did he tell you he tried?"
"He said the station tried."
Tyler looked confused.
Then he looked toward the window.
"What?"
I told him about the emergency contact form.
His eyebrows lifted.
"They still have your old number?"
"Apparently."
He rubbed his forehead carefully.
"I thought I updated that."
"You thought?"
"I remember filling out something."
"Something?"
"Amanda, I've had a concussion for several hours."
"Fair."
He smiled faintly.
I reached for his hand again.
The room settled into silence.
Outside, a cart rolled down the hallway.
A nurse laughed softly at the nurses' station.
Somewhere nearby, a machine beeped at regular intervals.
Normal sounds.
That was what made everything feel so strange.
The world hadn't stopped.
People were still having lunch.
Cars were still moving outside.
Someone was probably complaining about traffic.
And my husband had nearly been crushed by a building.
I looked at him.
"Captain Reyes said the structure gave way."
"It did."
"Was it that bad?"
Tyler didn't answer.
"Tyler."
He looked at me.
"Yeah."
Something in his voice made me sit straighter.
"What aren't you telling me?"
He stared at the blanket.
I waited.
He had always been terrible at hiding things from me when I gave him enough time.
Finally, he said, "The warehouse wasn't empty."
My stomach tightened.
"Reyes said there were people inside."
"There were."
"How many?"
"Five adults that we found."
"And?"
He looked at me.
"A child."
I went still.
"What?"
"A little girl."
I stared at him.
"Where?"
"Second floor."
"Was she trapped?"
"Yes."
I felt the muscles in my shoulders tighten.
"What happened?"
Tyler took a slow breath.
"The fire had spread through the lower level. Smoke was moving fast. The floor upstairs was already compromised."
"Then how did you get her out?"
He looked away.
That answer was already waiting between us.
"Tyler."
He swallowed.
"Reyes ordered us out."
I stared at him.
"You went back."
He didn't deny it.
"Why?"
"I heard her."
"What do you mean, you heard her?"
"She was crying."
My chest tightened.
"After the evacuation order?"
"Yes."
"Tyler."
"I know."
"You could have been killed."
He looked at me.
"I know."
"You had three firefighters inside with you."
"We were already moving out."
"But you went back."
"Yes."
"Against the order."
He was quiet.
I pressed my fingers against my forehead.
I was angry.
Terrified.
Relieved.
Proud.
All of those feelings were colliding so violently that I couldn't separate them.
"Did you get her?"
His eyes softened.
"Yes."
"Was she hurt?"
"No."
"Not even a scratch?"
"She was scared. That's all."
I closed my eyes.
The image formed in my mind anyway.
A little girl trapped upstairs while smoke filled the building.
Tyler hearing her.
Tyler turning around.
Tyler going back.
I hated the decision.
I understood it.
Both could be true.
"When you went back," I said, "what happened?"
"The floor gave way."
My eyes opened.
He continued.
"I was halfway across the room when part of it collapsed. I fell hard. That's where the shoulder happened."
"And the ribs?"
"Something landed on me."
"Something?"
"A section of ceiling."
My stomach turned.
"Then how did you get out?"
"The girl was still with me."
His voice changed when he said it.
Not pride.
Something quieter.
Protective.
"I got her toward the stairwell. One of the other crews reached us."
"You carried her?"
"Mostly."
"With a broken shoulder?"
"I didn't know it was broken."
I stared at him.
He gave me a tired half-smile.
"I was busy."
Despite everything, a laugh escaped me.
It immediately turned into a sob.
Tyler squeezed my hand.
"Hey."
"I hate you."
"No, you don't."
"Right now I do."
"Fair."
I leaned back in the chair.
After a moment, I noticed something else.
"Captain Reyes knew."
"About the girl?"
"About you going back."
"Yes."
"Then why did he look at me like he expected me to know something?"
Tyler's expression changed.
This time, I recognized it immediately.
Guilt.
Not fear.
Guilt.
"Tyler."
He looked at me.
"What?"
"What else happened?"
He didn't answer.
My heart began beating faster.
"Tyler, what aren't you telling me?"
He looked toward the closed door.
Then back at me.
"Reyes didn't just want to tell you I was injured."
"Then what did he want to tell me?"
Tyler took a slow breath.
"The department had a meeting this morning."
"About the accident?"
"Partly."
"What else?"
He hesitated.
Then he said, "About me."
I stared at him.
"Why?"
He gave me a tired, embarrassed smile.
"Because apparently, I'm being considered for something."
"For what?"
He looked down at our joined hands.
"The Medal of Valor."
I didn't speak.
The words seemed too large for the small hospital room.
"You were nominated?"
He nodded.
"When?"
"This morning."
"Before the accident?"
"After."
I stared at him.
"Then why didn't Reyes tell me?"
Tyler's eyes met mine.
"He wanted to tell you himself."
"Why?"
A faint smile touched his mouth.
"Because he says I'm terrible at accepting praise."
"You are."
"Thank you."
"And because he thought I'd make you accept it."
Tyler's smile disappeared.
"I don't know if I deserve it."
I squeezed his hand.
"You saved a little girl."
"I broke an order."
"You also saved her."
He looked away.
That was when I realized something.
The award wasn't what frightened him.
The attention was.
The possibility that everyone would look at him and call him brave while he remembered how close he had come to dying.
I leaned forward.
"You don't have to decide anything tonight."
He looked at me.
"About the medal."
He nodded.
"Tonight, you're my husband in a hospital bed."
His mouth curved slightly.
"That sounds less glamorous."
"Good."
He laughed softly.
Then winced.
I pointed at him.
"See? No laughing."
"Yes, ma'am."
For the first time since arriving, I felt my breathing slow.
Tyler was alive.
The little girl was alive.
The immediate crisis was over.
At least, that was what I thought.
Then someone knocked on the door.
Captain Reyes stepped inside.
He was holding something in his hand.
Not a medical chart.
Not a phone.
A folded sheet of paper.
His expression told me the hospital room had not yet seen the end of the day's surprises.
Click here to continue reading: PART 3: Captain Reyes Brought One Ordinary Sheet of Paper Into the Room, and Suddenly Tyler’s Quietest Secret Was Impossible to Ignore
I Arrived With Balloons and Cake, Expecting My Husband to Laugh—Instead His Entire Crew Went Silent When They Saw Me
Part 2 of 40
