Love is Always Write Anthology Volume 7

looked up and smiled at me. "Or Lancaster, rather. You're at AV Hospital."
    I looked around, and soon, I recognized the layout of the place. My mother had worked here for twenty years before she died.
    "H-How…"
    "Fire department brought all the smoke inhalation folks and the minor stuff here. Burns went down the hill. Poor things."
    There was a slithering in my abdomen, and a troubling thought tried to crawl into my consciousness. I shoved it away.
    "You rest up now. Don't mess with the IVs. The stand is on wheels, in case you need to use the restroom. Your cousin said he'd be back in a few hours, after he got some sleep."
    "My cous-"
    But she was already out the door, headed down the hall toward a nurses' station.
    I wondered who this cousin of mine could be. I didn't have any family in California anymore. I hoped it wasn't Cale. I wasn't in the mood for any of his bullshit.
    Not ever again.
    I listened to the news drone on about the fire and the direction of the wind. I must have fallen asleep again, because a man I didn't recognize was talking softly as I awoke.
    The nurse was back, and she was whispering to him.
    "…should be able to go home today," she said. "His O2 is high, and he's had a chance to rest. More folks will be headed in here soon, and we need the space."
    "That's great," he said. "I'll take him home with me tonight. His aunt is worried sick about him."
    "Great. When he wakes up he can sign himself out. Just ring me when he's ready."
    She left.
    "Who the hell are you?" My throat wasn't hurting anymore, but it was still scratchy.
    He looked surprised to see me awake, but then he smiled in a way that made me regret the harsh question. His expression was one of relief and painful tenderness.
    "You don't remember?" He put a giant hand to my forehead. It covered half of my face.
    "No…"
    "I'm Michael Rourke. With the fire department," he said. He hushed his tone. "We were walking down the hill when you passed out."
    "Oh…" They must have put something strong in my IV; I was still a little confused. "Thanks, then… but, why are you here now? Is something wrong?"
    "No, I just…" He looked down at his hands. "I was worried about you. Just wanted to, uh, make sure you were doin' okay."
    I was more awake now, and I could see him clearly. He was gigantic, and muscled up like some kind of bodybuilder. His hair was dark brown, and it was arranged in a messy mop on his head. His face was plain, average, but his eyes were a deep brown, like freshly turned earth. He wore an enormous sport coat and jeans.
    "Oh…thanks…" I couldn't think of any more words.
    "Well, uh…" He tapped his fingers on my bed rail and breathed deep, looking at the ceiling. "I, uh, have an extra bedroom. Since you need a…a place to stay for a while, and everything…if you want…"
    It took me a second to process what he was saying.
    "Wait…wait w-what about my house?"
    The anxiety that had crept onto his face faded into sorrow. "Oh…it…I'm sorry, but it's gone. Burned."
    "But it was fine!" I sat up. Too fast, it turned out, because I was immediately lightheaded. I grabbed the rails for support, but he caught me first, his big hands taking my forearms and steadying me.
    "The fire-"
    "It was out!"
    "It was just contained," he said. "Over the ridge, and down a little ways-"
    "It was gone!"
    "I-I tried to save the houses, we tried, but it came back, I'm sorry, the whole subdivision – it's gone."
    His eyes were wide and glassy, and I was acutely aware of his rough hands on my skin. It was comforting, and I breathed through my nose for a few minutes, relaxing into his grasp.
    "It's okay," he said. "You're gonna be fine. I can help you. I can."
    "But where…what…"
    "You're coming home with me."
    "I…"
    "You need time to recover. I won't let you stay in some cheap motel after everything you've been through." He averted his gaze again. "I won't."
    His hands moved past my elbows and up to my shoulders, and they squeezed me tight. I was grateful; their firm grasp made me feel secure, like I might be able to get up without falling.
    "Okay."
    There was nothing else to say.
    ****
    H e lived in east Palmdale, where I had grown up. His house was a modest three and two near the new high school, and I was relieved when he led me in through the air conditioned front door.
    The carpet was tan, just like every carpet ever installed in Palmdale, and the room was decorated in muted earth tones. The furniture was solid and large, just like