Light up the Night (Firehouse Three #2)(52)

Miles ran by without any solution, and Everly wasn’t sure if she should scream or rip her hair out at the quiet. She settled for punching the power button on the radio.

A fun, poppy dance beat came through the speakers. It chafed, but it was a damn sight better than being alone with her thoughts. The song ended, and the deejay came on. Everly wasn’t really paying attention to the first half of the news report, but then the word “explosion” caught her attention, and she cranked the volume higher as her other hand went white-knuckled on the steering wheel.

“…last night. Emergency crews have been on the scene nonstop since it happened, and early this morning a second explosion happened, spreading the fire to several nearby buildings. Preliminary reports have stated that at least one firefighter is missing, possibly dead, and several more are injured.”

Everly pulled over onto the shoulder and stopped. She couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t blink. Her heart had turned to stone in her chest.

Drake.





17.

Autopilot was an amazing thing. If not for Arrow whining in the backseat behind her, Everly didn’t know how long she would have sat there on the shoulder of the highway, staring off into space, frozen like a slab of meat. But when her dog pawed at the back of the seat, Everly’s muscles kicked into gear, and somehow she made it home.

Unloading the pups didn’t take that long, and she did it by rote, turning them out in the backyard for a quick potty trip and then feeding and watering them back inside before securing Gossamer in the crate she’d set up and locking the house.

Her hands trembled as she tried to force the key into the ignition of her Jeep, but she kept missing the damn hole. The metal skipped around the slot like it was on ice skates. She fought the urge to curse, tears welling in her eyes as her hand shook worse.

Why was this so hard?

The feelings that she’d strapped down, the fear she’d been doing her best to smother for the past hour threatened to break free.

She dropped her hand from the ignition and let her head thump against the headrest. Closing her eyes, she dragged a deep, ragged breath in through her nostrils.

There was no need to fear the worst. There were a lot of people who worked with Drake. A lot of emergency personnel on site. There might have been a mistake. Maybe the reports were wrong, and nobody was dead.

The sick twist in her guts wouldn’t relax. She had to find out what had happened. And with no cell phone, she’d have to go straight to the source.

The firehouse.

“Come on, Everly, breathe. You can do this.”

Her whisper galvanized her, and as she dashed hot tears—she hadn’t realized she’d been crying—from her cheeks, she finally found the ignition and cranked the Jeep. Breathing deeply, she adjusted the mirror, clicked her seatbelt on, and threw the gearshift into reverse.

Drake was fine. Drake was fine. Drake was fine.

The mantra got her across town, even though she wasn’t sure she believed it.

As she pulled up to the unassuming, white-gray brick building, the tin roof of which was peeling white paint, she was struck by how empty it looked. Three of the red doors were rolled up, their engine occupants missing. She parked on the street, hoping it was out of the way of anyone who needed to get in or out. The last thing she wanted was to be in the way of any engine or response team that needed to get somewhere quick.

Glancing both ways, she darted across the road and poked her head in through one of the open bay doors. The one tiny truck in the back corner had someone kneeling by the back tire, a rag in their hands as they worked an iron on the lug nuts.

“Excuse me?”

The firefighter turned, and Everly saw that it was a woman. Short, dark hair, cut in a pixie. Her dark gray tee molded to her body, her turnout gear pants held up by suspenders. Her jaw was square, her dark gray eyes were serious.

“Can I help you, ma’am?”

Everly swallowed, but her mouth was dry as sand. “Sorry to bug you. I’m—I’m trying to find out about the explosion this morning. Did some—” her voice cracked. “Did someone die?”

The firefighter shook her head mournfully as she wiped her hands on the greasy rag she held. “I’m sorry, I’m not allowed to give that kind of information out until the next of kin is notified.” Her steely eyes were compassionate as she stepped closer to Everly. “Unless someone called you. Is that why you’re here? Are you next of kin?”

No, she wasn’t. She was barely his girlfriend, really. Other than claiming that status to that blonde woman who’d called him that time, she didn’t know that she had any real hold on the title. He hadn’t denied it, but he hadn’t commented on it, either. Her fingers involuntarily clapped over her mouth and she shook her head. “No, I’m not. I just—I can’t get in touch with him.”

“I’m sorry,” the woman said. “The fire is contained now, and in just a few hours they’ll begin letting guys go home. If you can hang tight, I’m sure you’ll hear something soon. I wish I could give you more information, but—”

“It’s okay. I understand. Thanks anyway.” Everly turned and walked away from the station, her heart pounding fire in her throat.

The hope that had taken her here was dwindling fast. There was only one Hail Mary left in her playbook.

She climbed into her Jeep and drove straight to Jesse’s.