Chapter 11
Mitch
Watching Bryn walk out the door was harder than I could have ever imagined. I paced. Tried to watch TV. Took a shower. Tried to calm down, but nothing worked. After a couple of hours, I made my way to the diner down the block from my place.
I took a seat at the counter, ordered pancakes, some scrambled eggs with well-done bacon on the side, and sat sipping black coffee while I waited for my breakfast to be delivered.
The voice of the young, female news anchor on the TV in the corner caught my attention. “Breaking news, an industrial warehouse went up in flames only a few hours ago. Some of the workers and one firefighter are in critical condition and have been rushed to the emergency room after the roof caved in while responders were trying to save trapped employees.”
I recognized the warehouse as they showed it up in flames from an aerial view of a news chopper. My stomach flipped and flopped as I threw a twenty down on the counter and ran out the door.
I sprinted into the parking garage on the first floor of my building, grabbing my truck’s keys out of my pocket as fast as I could. In that moment I was so thankful that my truck had finally arrived. If I had to wait on an Uber or trust someone else to get me to Bryn’s side in that moment, I would have been even more of a wreck than I already was.
“Don’t be hurt,” I muttered over and over. “You have to be all right. Please don’t be fucking hurt.”
I couldn’t get to the scene fast enough. The chief was even there by the time I showed up.
“Chief Hoover!” I called as I threw my truck’s door open, the engine still running. “Any news on who was hurt?”
I slammed the truck into park, ripped the keys out of the ignition, and trotted over to his side.
“How’d you hear?” His eyes narrowed as we quickly walked to one of the fire trucks.
“I was grabbing breakfast at a diner when the news came on.” I could see the press vans off in the distance, cameras rolling.
Camden was at the tip of the pipe and right when I saw him, I knew.
“Where’s Bryn?” I yelled.
Chief Hoover bowed his head. “There was a beam. She was carrying a lady out.”
That was all I needed to hear. I was back in my truck on autopilot, speeding toward the nearest emergency room as fast as my vehicle would let me.
I found the closest parking spot and burst into the ER bay like a bat out of hell.
“The firefighter they just brought in, Bryn Malloye—where is she?” I was yelling and panting as I rushed the nurses station.
Luckily, I was wearing my station’s shirt. As soon as the older nurse saw the logo on my chest, she checked the computer.
“She’s in the ICU.” I zoned out as she continued to explain where Bryn was. I knew where to go already—I had been there to check in on a patient I had brought in a few weeks back.
I could only get as far back as the waiting room before being stopped.
“Sir, can I help you?” a male nurse asked as I started to pace frantically in a small circle in front of him.
“The female firefighter that was brought in earlier, can I know her status?” I pleaded.
He looked at my chest, sighing. “You know I’m not supposed to tell anyone but next of kin.”
“She’s my wife,” I lied without even thinking about it because in my heart that was actually how I felt about Bryn. It took me until that very moment, but I had never cared about someone the way I did for Bryn—not even Cali.
“I’m sorry, it wasn’t listed on the chart.” He put a reassuring hand on my shoulder as he continued, “Your wife is stabile but sedated. Let me get the doctor for you. Give me a few.”
Within minutes, a young doctor came walking up to me, holding Bryn’s chart. “Mr. Malloye?” he asked.
“Yes.” I didn’t even think twice about confirming the name.
“Your wife is one tough lady. Her burns are extensive and she will need skin grafts at the very least, but she’s hanging in there.”