“Thank you, thank you, thank you…” She whispered into his shoulder.
Neither would let go. She wished he’d crawl into bed with her so she could hold him closer. She sensed he was as emotional as she was by how tightly he held her…her big, tough smokejumper.
He eased back from her. “You’re killing my back, Waters. I need to sit.”
“You must be exhausted.” She let go and reached for a tissue. “How did you find us?”
“Max radioed AFS about a crew in trouble after he dropped mud on you. Gunnar and I deployed. We didn’t know it was Aurora Crew until we got there. Then you and Angela weren’t—” he stopped and sat in the chair next to Tara’s bed.
Her head spun. “I feel dizzy.”
“Why is your oxygen tube hung up in your hair? It’s supposed to be in your nose.” He worked it from her hair and repositioned it. “Breathe deeply through your nose,” ordered Ryan, his gentle bedside manner as professional as any doctor.
“You’ve given me breathing lessons before,” she rasped, her gaze on his face. “My lungs hurt when I breathe.”
“After what you’ve been through, you need to take it easy and mend those lungs.”
Tara inhaled the oxygen and her lightheadedness subsided. “Thank you, doctor.”
She wanted to touch him. To kiss him. She yanked off her oxygen tube. “Come closer.”
“You’re as difficult a patient as you are a firefighter,” he teased.
“Damn straight,” she whispered, reaching for him. “And I have fire breath.”
“The best kind.” He leaned in and kissed her, his tongue gently parting her lips in a soft, shallow kiss. When he pulled back, something different lived in his eyes. Something gentle.
“You taste good. Minty.” She brushed his cheek. “Nice scruff you have going on.”
He sat back. “Haven’t seen a shaver in a while. I was a little busy rescuing someone who told me she didn’t need rescuing.” He picked up her brush. “You were about to brush your hair. I’m no hair guy, but I can manage.”
“No. Just sit there so I can look at you.” She cleared her throat.
Ryan positioned the straw in her water bottle. “Take a drink. You inhaled shitloads of smoke. How your lungs didn’t sear is a miracle.”
She accepted the bottle and sipped the cool water that soothed her ragged throat.
He tucked a hand inside his shirt and pulled out wilted fireweed. “Chamaenerion angustifolium.” He offered them to her.
She accepted the bright pink flowers, propping up the wilted blossoms. “You picked them before they bloomed.”
He laughed. “Fireweed blooms from the bottom up all summer. When the blooms reach the top, it means summer is over.”
“What?” A familiar déjà vu waved through her. She looked at him as if he’d sprouted fairy wings.
“I forget. You don’t have fireweed in Montana. It’s an Alaskan thing.”
She talked excitedly “Ryan, I talked to my dad. He told me to return to you. He gave me a fireweed and said his summer was over, but mine wasn’t. He was as real as you are right now.” She stared at the spent flowers. How did Dad know Ryan would give her fireweed? Did I really die and come back?
“I thought you said he was deceased. Enjoying those painkillers?” he teased, leaning back to check out the prescriptions on her nightstand.
“Ryan, how long was I—not breathing?”
“I’m guessing at least half an hour, maybe longer. Why?”
“I saw Dad and talked to him. He told me to return to you. I talked to Travis and he hugged me.”
Ryan sat upright. “You talked to your Dad—and McGuire? What do you mean he hugged you?”
She smiled at the jealous edge to his voice. “Travis told me to come back to you.”
Ryan raised his brows. “Oh yeah? Nice of him.”
“You don’t believe me.”
“You’ve had a traumatic experience. Post-trauma stress is normal after an entrapment in a burnover. It was probably an intense dream."
“I don’t think so. It was too real.” She did experience it. “I was prepared to die in that fire shelter. When I couldn’t breathe, this strange peaceful feeling came over me and I wasn’t scared anymore. I really do think I crossed to the other side.”
“A near-death experience?” Ryan’s voice grew quiet.
“I think so.” She shuddered at how close she’d come to a firefighter’s worst nightmare.
“Who am I to say you didn’t? I’ve heard it happens.”
“How did Dad know to give me fireweed?”
“Was he ever in Alaska?”
“He fought fires here years ago.”
“You said your Dad was a wildland firefighter. But you’ve never told me about him.”
“When have we ever had time to talk? Dad died in our house fire. I wasn’t there to save him.” She dropped her gaze to her hands.
“What’s ironic is, he switched to structural firefighting and saved so many people in house fires. The world will never see the next hundred million wonderful things Dad could have done.” She shook her head. “When I talked to him, he gave me the fireweed and told me to return to you.”
She clutched the fireweed in her hand and stared at it. This couldn’t be a coincidence.
No, it was a miracle. And a sign. Thank you, Jim Dolan.
Ryan laid a hand over her bandaged one. “I’m sorry about your Dad. Told you before, don’t beat yourself up for those you couldn’t save. Tara, you saved your crew. And Angela. Not to mention your own life.”
Things seemed clearer to her now. The fears that once controlled her had vanished with the fire.
He lifted her hand and kissed it. “I can’t imagine what you went through out there. You’re one helluva firefighter.”
His words warmed her, but it wasn’t something she ever wanted to go through again. They shared silence for a long moment, her bandaged hands resting in his.
She broke it first. “Don’t they need you at the Jump Shack?”
“Zombie put me at the bottom of the jump list to give me a breather. But I do have an incident report
