It allows me a very, very brief break from worrying that I will never see Jessica again.

“My sweet brother, I am so sorry, but you’ll fix this, and once you’re home and you have Jessica in your arms, we’ll figure out what to do about the rest of this mess.”

I hope she’s right, but the truth is, I have no idea what the hell I’m going to find once I get there. My stomach is in knots and my chest is tight as I race down the highway, praying she’s all right.

“If . . . if . . . she . . . I can’t talk.”

“Okay.” The defeat in her voice is almost too much to bear. “Please call me.”

“I will. I can’t . . .”

“I know. I love you, and I’ll be here.”

“Call Jack,” I tell her. “Tell him. And Winnie and her family.”

“I can do that,” Stella says quickly. “I’ll keep Amelia in the dark and just say you had to go see Alex or Josh.”

I end the call, unable to think about this. If she’s not okay . . .

If . . .

If I get there, and she’s gone, I don’t know how I’ll go on. My life will simply cease to be the same.

It was one thing to lose her before. It was hard, but the obliviousness of youth worked for me. I didn’t know any better. This, though, is different. Loving her the way I do now isn’t young or naïve. It is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever felt, and the void will never be filled.

Pushing the accelerator down harder, I race to get to her. When I pull up to the scene, my heart drops.

I’m out of the car, running toward the house, but a police officer grabs me. “Son, you can’t go in there.”

“That’s my house!”

“Okay, but you can’t . . .”

“There was a girl inside. My girlfriend. Her name is Jessica Walker. Can you . . . is she—” I barely get the words out. I’m shaking because of the adrenaline flooding me. “I’m a fireman. Here.” I give him my fire badge, and he looks over at the fire chief before waving him over.

He heads toward us, soot all over his face. “This is the owner and also a fellow fireman. I thought you could talk to him.”

I shake my head. “The girl. Did you find a girl? She . . . she called me and . . . the phone. Please, just tell me.”

“We found her, and she was transported to the hospital.”

“Was she alive?” I ask, my hands shaking.

“Yes, she was alive,” he says. “She was pulled out before we got on scene, but . . . I don’t know her prognosis.”

“Where is the hospital? How . . . I need to . . .”

The police officer places his hand on my arm. “I’ll take you there.”