It seems an eternity has passed when I see movement. My lungs cease to expand, my heart ceases to beat until I see the clear form of Jake cutting through the haze. My relief is more profound than any emotion I’ve ever experienced.

Until he lays down his human cargo and turns to go back inside.

The arms that held me suddenly disappear, and I see people rush to the man lying prone on the ground. After a few seconds, I see my mother come into my view, falling to her knees beside the person just sitting up. It’s my father. I squeeze my eyes shut over my tears when I see him wrap one arm around her shoulders and lean into her.

But then an even more painful realization slices through me. Jake went back in.

To get Shane.

He’s risking his life for a man like Shane. Because he thinks it matters to me.

The tears come freely now, and without end. I sit on the ground, surrounded by hurt people and emergency workers and stretches of hose, and my heart melts right inside my chest.

“Please God, please God, please God!” is all I can make out. Over and over and over again. Every nerve, every cell, every bit of light that I am as a person cries out to Him for mercy. And I watch the doorway . . .

When Jake appears this time, he sets down the body he’s carrying. As he turns, stripping off his helmet as he goes, his eyes search for me. I struggle to my feet, to stand until he can see me.

And he does.

And he waits.

He waits for me.

Maybe like he’s always waited for me.

Like I’ve always waited for him.

I watch Laney take shaky step after shaky step toward me. Toward us. Shane, her fiancé, is lying in the grass just behind me. If ever there was a choice for her to make, now’s the time. Her actions will speak volumes. And I’ll do nothing to influence them.

Closer and closer she gets. Harder and harder my heart beats. What will she do? What will she do?

When she’s five or six steps from me, she glances down at Shane and my chest gets tight. But then, as if she was only paying him the simplest of courtesies, she launches herself into my arms and smashes her lips to mine.

I’ve always heard Jenna and her friends go on and on about all the different things a kiss can mean. Now I think I understand what they were talking about.

In this kiss is declaration. In it is acceptance. In it is passion and perseverance, hope and happiness. In it is everything I’ve ever needed and everything I never thought I’d want. It’s everything because she’s everything.

All the voices, all the sounds, all the activity around us is muted when she leans back and looks deep into my eyes. “You saved me, Jake.”

I smile. “You saved me first.”

For a few seconds, I think of spilling my guts, right here in the middle of a disaster area. But I think better of it when I hear a voice to my left.

“All right, hero, was there anyone else inside?” Chip asks. “If not, we need to get these flames put out and wrap this up.”

Leave it to a guy to interrupt such a great moment. I feel like snarling at him, Can’t you see I’m in the middle of something here?

But I guess my personal affairs are actually doing the interrupting. I’m here to do a job. To save lives and put out fires.

One down.

One to go.

I set Laney on her feet and wipe away a smudge from her pale cheek with my gloved finger. “Are you all right? Really?”

Her smile is wide and bright, and she nods enthusiastically. “I know it sounds weird, but I’ve never been better.”

I grin down at her. I know just what she means.

“I’ve gotta finish up here. I’ll find you later, ’kay?”

She nods again, her smile still intact. “Okay, I’m gonna go check on Daddy.”

She walks backward for a few steps, as reluctant to leave me as I am for her to go.

“Stay away from this building,” I say as I move toward the side of the hall, getting ready to replace my helmet. “You hear?”

She nods again and turns to walk to her father. I round the smoking structure to make my way to the back, to put this baby to bed.

Almost six hours later, I’m on my way home. The chief called in the backup shift to help with cleanup, which is something the bigger fire departments don’t get involved in. But Greenfield is small, and it’s more a neighborly gesture than anything else. With the reinforcements onsite, it allows those of us who were first-responders to come home for a break before resuming our shift.

My first thought was to go to Laney, but that might not be the best thing. If she’s still at the hospital being medically cleared with the other people from the church (which I heard had the ER backed up for hours) then there’s no reason for me to bother her there. If she’s at home sleeping, I definitely don’t want to bother her there. So I figure the best thing I can do is wait until morning. What I have to say can wait until then. It’s waited this long . . .

Coming down my driveway, my headlights hit a patch of blue just barely visible through the trees. That’s when I know I won’t have to wait. Laney’s at my house.

I pull up and park beside her car. The house is dark. I’m assuming she’s asleep since it’s late and she had a big night.

I cut the engine and get out, reaching into the back to get my gear. I jump when I hear a soft voice from the opposite side of the Jeep.

“Took you long enough.”

“Holy hot damn! You scared the shit out of me!”

Laney giggles. She must’ve been on the front porch, waiting.

I can hardly make her out on such a cloudy night with only a sliver of moon to see by. It looks like she’s changed clothes. She’s wearing something pale and, when she puts her foot on the tire and swings up into the Jeep, I can see that it’s short. Even in the low light, I can see lots and lots of long, tan leg.

My pulse picks up, and it has nothing to do with her sneaking up on me.

“What are you doing up? I figured you’d be asleep. You need rest.”

Laney moves to stand on the backseat, her bare feet on the cushion and her back braced against the roll bar.

“Who can sleep after a night like tonight?” She pauses before she adds, “And I don’t mean the fire.”

Here we go!

I take a deep breath. I knew this was coming. By giving in to what’s between us, that means I have to be open with her. She’ll expect that. But hell, she couldn’t even wait until morning?

For a few seconds, I have a burst of doubt. How will she react? Will it change anything?

Setting my bag on the ground, I hop into the backseat of the Jeep, repositioning her feet to the space on the seat between my legs. She might as well get comfortable. If we’re gonna talk, there’s no time and place like the present.

Jake settles my feet back between his legs and leans his head back. Looking down on him, all I can see is his shadowed face and the occasional sparkle of the low light in his eyes.

I didn’t come here to pressure him. I came here to . . . to . . . I don’t know what. To be with him. To see if what happened was real. To see where we go from here.

I came because I couldn’t stay away.

And because, once again, I feel hope. And, this time, I need to know if it’s shared.

But I don’t want to move too fast. Jake has ghosts. Demons. Things he hasn’t wanted to share. Since I don’t know what they are, I can’t possibly know if I’m about to step on a landmine. It makes proceeding tricky. But not impossible. I just have to be patient.

That’s what I’m telling myself when I hear him sigh and feel his fingers touch the top of my bare feet and start absently making slow circles.

I’m thinking of how to start, of where to start when Jake speaks. His voice is low. And distant. He’s somewhere else in time. And, this time, he’s taking me along with him.