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“You really don’t have to do that,” I said in my new hoarse voice, but Cade clenched her teeth and shook her head. Her hair was a mess. Hopefully she’d let me fix it for her.

“I’m not arguing with you. And we should really call your parents. Maybe not tonight, but they should know.”

She was right. I knew she was right, but that was one more thing I could not stomach right now.

“I want to go home,” I said, my eyes burning with fresh tears.

“Okay, let’s take you home,” Cade said, hugging me gently. She and Eloise got me into Cade’s car and then to my apartment. Eloise called a car to get back to her house after I told her she didn’t need to stay and assured her that I would call if I needed anything. She’d done more than enough already, throwing her famous name around the ER on my behalf.

Cade helped me hobble to the elevator and then to my bathroom. Even more than laying down, I desperately needed a shower. My clothes reeked of smoke and it was making me sick.

Since I needed to keep my ankle elevated, Cade talked me into a bath, which took some maneuvering, but the painkillers were helping.

Once I was clean, I got myself into my favorite soft as hell pajamas and Cade put me into bed with my ankle propped up.

“I’m going to stay in the guest room, but I’m going to keep checking on you. If you need anything, send me a message. I don’t want you hurting your voice if you don’t have to. Oh, and here is some tea with honey and some cough drops.”

Cade finally left me and I let the tears fall that I’d been holding back.

What a horrible fucking night.

The good news was that the firefighters were able to save the building and there were no deaths. The bad news was that the yoga studio was closed until further notice, and the fire was under investigation, but was probably caused by some old wiring. No one had been injured, other than me with my ankle and some smoke inhalation, and everyone had gotten out. Things could have been so much worse.

For me, it meant that I needed to find a new yoga studio to teach at after my ankle healed. The sprain was so minor that I was on track to be fully healed with only two weeks of down time, and my lungs were back to normal functioning after a few days. I did whatever I could to hasten the process, and I busted my ass filming, creating, and scheduling as much social media content as I could, since nearly everything else was off-limits.

Cade and Reid came to visit me a lot so I didn’t lose my mind being stuck in my apartment, bringing me books and food and making me laugh again. I did a lot of painting, which helped quiet my mind and distracted me from that night.

My parents were livid that I hadn’t called them the night of the fire, but what the hell would they have even done? Every time I’d gone to them for help in my life, they’d either said no, or they’d made me feel so horrible for daring to ask that it wasn’t even worth it. Fortunately, they had a big fight with each other that distracted them from being disappointed with me. My injury did save me from having to go to my mother’s charity event. I never thought I would have been happy about a sprained ankle.

There were nightmares, though. No one knew about them. Not even Cade and Reid. Having nightmares about a traumatic event was only natural after a traumatic event and they would fade in time, I told myself.

Confusingly mixed in with the nightmares was a flash of beautiful smile. Dimples. The feeling of being carried by strong arms.

Stace. The firefighter who’d rescued me. I found myself wondering about her in those times after I’d woken up in a cold sweat with my heart trying to thrash its way out of my chest and gasping for breath. Thinking about Stace was much better than reliving those awful moments.

She had dimples. It wasn’t right that she had dimples in both cheeks when she smiled.

The way she’d lifted me, as if I was nothing but a bag of flour she was putting in her cart at the grocery store.

Was she a firefighter full time? Was that a thing? I was sure it had to be. What an interesting job. Physically demanding, no doubt. She had to be in good shape to cart all that gear around and be able to haul people as well. How long had she been a firefighter? Did she enjoy it?

So many questions about a person I’d interacted with for less than fifteen minutes.

If I wanted to, I could find her. There were only so many local fire departments and they all had social media. Plus, there had been articles written about the fire which would tell me which companies had responded. Finding her would take a matter of minutes.

But I didn’t do it. Finding her was pointless. She was just a person who had carried me out of a building and that was it. Stace probably didn’t even remember me.

Chapter Three

Stace

“You’re still thinking about her?” my brother Torrin asked incredulously.

He bumped my shoulder with his, trying to knock me off balance as we walked into the diner to get breakfast. We both had the day off, so we were eating together before heading to our little brother’s soccer game. We both had decided we needed blueberry pancakes, bacon, sausage, and lots of strong coffee before heading over to the field to watch.

“I am not,” I said as he put our name at the counter of our favorite diner and grabbed the pager the server handed him. We crammed ourselves into a corner to wait since there was nowhere else to stand. The diner was an absolute circus, but that was to be expected on a Saturday morning.

“Yeah,” he said, grinning at me and bumping my shoulder again. “You are. You know you could find her.”