Page 10 of The Smokejumper’s Lady (Praise Me Like Fire #1)

Clea

Home doesn’t feel like home anymore.

I’m sitting in the same living room I grew up in, wrapped in the same fuzzy blanket I’ve used since I was a toddler, but nothing feels right.

The couch is too soft. The air is too clean.

And I can’t stop fidgeting with the hem of my shirt, like maybe if I tug at it long enough, I’ll wake up from this weird, disconnected fog.

The fire. Ryan. My parents.

It all happened so fast, and now here I am. Safe. But I feel hollow. I stare blankly at the TV, the local news. My brain barely registers what’s being said until the red banner flashes across the bottom of the screen in bold, unrelenting letters:

brEAKING: SMOKE JUMPER UNIT CAUGHT IN BACK DRAFT—STATUS UNKNOWN

My stomach drops, and I scramble for the remote, fingers trembling as I turn up the volume.

“…Unit 347 was deployed just moments before an unexpected back draft intensified conditions near Glacier National Park,” the redhead anchor says in a tight voice. “Reports are still coming in, but officials say communication with the team has been lost. Their status remains unknown at this time.”

My breath catches in my throat.

Unit 347.

That’s Ryan’s team.

A noise slips out of me, half sob, half gasp, and the remote falls from my hand to the floor.

“No,” I whisper. “No, no, no…”

Tears prick at the corners of my eyes before I can stop them. I clutch the blanket tighter around my shoulders, but it doesn’t do anything to stop the icy fear sliding down my spine.

The screen shows a blurry, zoomed-out shot of the fire, orange and black and absolutely feral, eating up the forest like it’s nothing. Smoke twists through the sky like a living thing. Fire trucks scream past the camera, and helicopters buzz overhead.

It looks like the end of the world.

And Ryan is out there.

I swipe at my tears, but they just keep falling. I don’t even realize my mom has walked into the room until she sits down beside me on the couch.

“What’s wrong?” she asks gently.

“R-Ryan,” I say shakily, pointing to the screen. “That’s Ryan’s unit.”

“Who?” Mom asks, her brow furrowing in confusion.

“He’s the smoke jumper who saved me. He’s…out there.”

Mom’s eyes go wide. She stares at the footage for a long, quiet second before reaching over and pulling me into a hug.

It’s not the stiff, polite kind she usually gives. She holds me like she means it.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispers. “You really care about him, don’t you?”

I nod against her shoulder. “Yes. And now it might be too late.”

She pulls back and cups my cheek. “Breathe. One step at a time. If he means that much to you…we’ll find out where he is. We’ll do something.”

I blink at her in surprise. “You’ll help me?”

“Of course I will,” she says, already grabbing her phone. “Let’s figure out where the base is. Someone has to know something.”

We pull up news reports, maps, listings for wildland firefighting stations. My hands are shaking too hard to type, so she does most of it while I try to hold myself together.

I just have to know he’s okay.

The front door opens and a second later, Dad walks in, wiping his hands on a rag.

“What’s going on?” he asks.

“She’s trying to find the smoke jumper base,” Mom says, not missing a beat. “She wants to see if he’s okay.”

Dad frowns. “Who?”

“The smoke jumper who saved her life,” Mom replies curtly.

Dad lets out a loud scoff. “You mean the guy who stayed in a cabin all night with my daughter, unsupervised?”

I shoot up off the couch. “Dad, there’s no need to treat me like a child. Ryan saved my life.”

“I don’t care what he did. No daughter of mine is chasing after some reckless adrenaline junkie who thinks he’s invincible.”

“He’s not reckless,” I say, my voice rising. “He’s brave. He puts his life on the line for other people every single day. That’s not something to be ashamed of.”

“She’s right,” Mom cuts in, standing beside me now. “You were like that once too, remember? Wild. Fearless. That’s the man I fell in love with.”

Dad goes quiet. His jaw clenches.

For a long moment, none of us says anything.

Then he sighs, rubbing a hand down his face. “Fine. Do what you want. But don’t expect me to support it.”

“We didn’t ask,” Mom snaps.

I glance between them, stunned. And so deeply grateful. Without another word, I grab my phone and start dialing the number we found for the station.

I don’t know if they’ll answer. But I have to try. Because it feels like I’ll go crazy if I don’t do anything.

Someone picks up the phone on the third ring. It’s a woman with a kind voice, but her words are a mess of protocols and apologies that don’t tell me anything I need to hear.

“I’m sorry, ma’am. That’s all we can disclose right now. The situation is fluid. We’ll release updates as they come…”

“But can you just tell me if he’s okay?” My voice cracks. “Please. His name is Ryan Lewis. He’s part of Unit 347. He jumped in hours ago—”

“I’m really sorry.”

The line goes dead.

I stare at the phone in my hand, numb. My heart is beating way too fast, but it’s not doing anything useful, just slamming against my ribs like it’s trying to outrun the panic tightening around my chest.

I lower the phone slowly and say, “I’m going.”

Dad’s head snaps up from where he’s been standing by the window. “Going where?”

“To the fire. To the site. To the base camp…wherever he is.”

“Absolutely not,” he says, like it’s final. Like his word is law and I’m still ten years old with scraped knees and a bedtime. “I don’t want to see you stepping foot near that inferno.”

“Then don’t watch,” I shoot back, surprising even myself with the steel in my voice.

“You don’t understand how dangerous it is out there, Clea.”

“I understand enough,” I snap. “I understand that he’s out there risking his life and I’m sitting here doing nothing. And I can’t do that. I won’t.”

Dad opens his mouth again, but this time, Mom steps in. “Let her go.”

We both blink at her.

“What?” Dad says, dumbfounded. “You’re seriously telling me…”

“She’s not a kid anymore,” Mom says softly. “And if someone I cared about was in danger like that, I’d want to be close. She deserves that choice.”

My chest tightens. I meet her gaze, and for the first time, I see her…not just as my mother, but as a woman. Someone who has probably felt all the same things I’m feeling now. Love. Fear. Helplessness. Fire in the blood.

She pulls her car keys out of her purse and places them gently into my palm. “Take my car. It’s got a full tank.”

I blink through the tears threatening to spill. “Thank you.”

She tucks a strand of hair behind my ear and smiles, small and sad. “Just…be careful, okay?”

“I will.”

I wrap my arms around her, and she hugs me back like it’s the most natural thing in the world. For a second, we’re not at odds. We’re just two women…two hearts…trying to hold on to something before it slips away.

“Maybe we can…talk more,” I whisper. “After this.”

“I’d like that,” she says.

I pull away, nod once, then grab my bag and head for the door without looking at my dad.

It’s a short drive to the site of the fire, but it feels like eternity. The road leading up to the fire base is chaos—crawling with news vans, police cars, hotshot crews, and civilians. I park a good half mile away and start running the second my feet hit dirt.

The smoke is thick even from here, curling high into the sky like a monster refusing to die.

The fire looks like it’s been beaten back, blackened trees and scorched earth but the air still abuzz with panic.

People are barking orders into radios. Reporters are scrambling for footage.

Every siren in the county is screaming in the distance.

Where is he?

I scan every face. Search every helmet, every soot-streaked uniform, but I don’t see any sign of Ryan.

Panic kicks in like a second heartbeat, pounding in my chest and my throat and behind my eyes.

Where is he, where is he, where is he—?

I finally spot a familiar face.

Matt.

He’s standing near one of the medic tents, his hands on his hips, looking pale under the dirt and grime. His goofball charm is gone, replaced by something tight and haunted.

I run straight for him. “Matt!” I shout. “Matt!”

He turns, eyes narrowing slightly before widening with recognition. “Clea?”

“Where is he?” I gasp, grabbing his arm. “Where’s Ryan? Is he okay? Please—please tell me he’s okay.”

His mouth presses into a grim line. His eyes drop to the ground.

“Matt,” I say, voice trembling. “Don’t. Don’t do that. Just tell me.”

He exhales, and when he looks up at me again, his eyes are full of something I can’t bear to name. “He’s still in there.”

My legs go weak.

“In the fire?” I whisper.

He nods. “The heart of it. A couple of us got cut off after the drop. Ryan tried to lead them out, but the wind shifted. It’s bad, Clea. It’s really bad.”

I stare at him, shaking my head. “But he’s…he’s Ryan. He’s strong. He’s smart…he’ll find a way.”

“I want to believe that too,” Matt says. “But right now, things aren’t looking good.”

Before I can say another word, his comm crackles. Static, then a sharp voice:

“All available hands to the south perimeter—possible evac needed. Repeat, possible evac of multiple smoke jumpers. Immediate assistance required.”

Matt’s head jerks toward the sound. He looks at me once, his gaze apologetic before he turns around and runs off.

I stagger backward, my knees buckling slightly.

People rush past me. Radios crackle. Boots slam into dirt. And all I can do is stand here, the world collapsing around me, my heart breaking in slow motion.

Ryan is out there.

And I don’t know if I’ll ever see him again.