The Perfect Match (Blue Heron #2)(120)

“Why aren’t you in there?”

“It’s too dangerous. The fire chief called us back.”

“Is Honor inside?”

Brogan face crumpled in answer. Tom ran, but Brogan grabbed him, pulling him back. “You can’t, Tom! It’s too dangerous. And it’s too late.”

Then Brogan’s head jerked back and he fell, and Tom’s hand was vaguely stinging. Shouts followed him across the lawn, and the heat slammed into him as he got close to the house.

Fire twisted and leaped out of all the front windows, roaring with glee. The back of the house was gone, a pile of burning rubble. Tom could see the refrigerator.

Jesus.

His skin drew tight from the heat, and the air in his throat was ground glass, too hot to breathe.

He grabbed the front door handle and tried it, smelling something odd. The latch clicked down, but the door didn’t budge. He took a step back, kicked the door, once, twice. There was a tremendous crash from above. From the corner of his eye, he saw a firefighter running toward him, to pull him away, no doubt.

Tom noticed that his clothes were smoking.

The third kick did it.

* * *

DEATH BY SMOKE inhalation or fire...very low on Honor’s list of ways to go. Freezing to death had always sounded peaceful. She imagined a coma would be okay, too, so long as the incident that preceded it wasn’t too violent.

But not this.

The smoke would kill them soon...if the flames didn’t.

It was hotter now, and Goggy was fading. “Goggy?” she said. “Stay with me, okay? I’m scared. I need you.” Stay with us, Mommy.

Goggy squeezed her hand.

Dad. Faith, Pru, Jack, Abby and Ned. Mrs. J.

Tom.

Her heart gave an enormous throb, and she was so glad, then, that she’d been in love, had known what it was like to truly love someone, to have had that small time when it seemed like they’d work out. What a gift it had been, to love Tom, to feel loved in return.

And then the door exploded inward, and she and Goggy jumped, and he was there. Tom stood there, then reached for them, and his hand was sticky. He pulled them up and out, and the air, it was so cool and sweet, and maybe she had just died, and this was heaven, but if so, where was Mom?

You made it, honey.

Then she was crying and choking, and firefighters swarmed around them, people were yelling, and then Pops was there, and he pulled Goggy into his arms; he was sobbing, and Levi, and Faith! Oh, Faithie was crying, too, grabbing on to her, and Levi guided both of them to an ambulance, and there was Jessica Dunn, looking beautiful even in fire gear as she smiled and wiped her eyes.

Kelly Matthews put an oxygen mask to her face, and Honor inhaled gratefully, choked and inhaled some more, her chest burning. Pops gripped her hand, kissed it. “Thank you,” he said, still crying. “Thank you, my angel.”

“You get to go to the hospital,” Kelly said with a smile. “You kick-ass woman, you.”

The rest was a blur—a gurney, Gerard, sooty and smiling. Ned, her sweet, beautiful nephew, eyes wet, a grin on his face. The ambulance ride—her first. Lordy, she was tired! Jack was waiting at the E.R., and so was Jeremy Lyon, bless his heart, who kissed her cheek and held her hand. The doctors, fire chief and Levi alternately lectured her about foolishly running into a burning building and praised her for bravely running into a burning building.

Goggy was doing fine; also being treated for smoke inhalation. Pops, too, refusing to leave his wife’s side.

“Where’s Tom?” Honor asked. Her voice didn’t sound like her own.

“He’s here,” Faith said, still hiccuping with sobs. “He came in someone’s truck.” Then she held up her phone. “It’s Dad. I called him five minutes ago, and they’re on their way home. Say hi. He doesn’t believe you’re okay.”

“I’m okay, Daddy,” Honor said, and her father burst into tears.

“My brave, brave girl,” he wept.

All Honor really wanted was a nap.

And Tom.

But the doctors wouldn’t leave her alone, and she had to have tests and oxygen and then she was asleep.

When she woke up, it was much quieter. She was in a regular hospital room, not the E.R., wearing a johnny coat. Light spilled in from the hall.

And Tom was there, sitting in a chair by her bedside. “Hallo,” he said, and her eyes filled with tears.

“Thank you for saving my life,” she whispered. “Again.”

“Thank you for taking twenty years off mine,” he said. “Again. I’ll be dead in a month if this keeps up.” He reached down and picked something up. Spike. “Say hallo, Ratty.”

Spike wriggled onto the bed, whimpering in joy, and climbed up Honor’s chest to lick her face. Her tears, specifically. She gave a watery smile, then frowned. “What happened to your hands?” she asked Tom. They were both bandaged.

“I burned them on the door handle.”

She winced. “Sorry.”

“Oh, for Christ’s sake. It was worth it. Now move over.” He lowered the side rail of her bed and climbed in with her, the mattress creaking under his weight. “And put this back on, and don’t take it off again.”

He slid her engagement ring onto her finger.

“Tom,” she began.

“Shush,” he said, and much to her astonishment, his eyes filled with tears. “You’re marrying me. That’s the end of it.”