“I know.”
“You had already been ordered out.”
“I know.”
My voice rose.
“Then why did you go back?”
He looked at me.
And there was no firefighter bravado in his eyes.
No joke.
No smile.
Just exhaustion.
“Because she was calling for her mother.”
I stopped.
He swallowed.
“She kept screaming, ‘Mommy, Mommy.'”
His voice cracked.
“I couldn’t leave her.”
Neither of us spoke.
I looked down at our hands.
He continued.
“I went upstairs.”
“The floor gave way.”
“My shoulder hit something.”
“That’s how I broke it.”
I squeezed his hand.
“What happened to the girl?”
Tyler smiled faintly.
“She’s okay.”
“You’re sure?”
“Not a scratch.”
I closed my eyes.
For a moment, I couldn’t decide whether I wanted to hug him or scream at him.
Maybe both.
Then he said something I hadn’t expected.
“She asked if I was an angel.”
I looked at him.
“What?”
“When I got her outside, she looked at me and asked if I was an angel.”
A tear rolled down his cheek.
“I told her no.”
“What did she say?”
Tyler smiled.
“She said, ‘Then why did you come back for me?'”
I started crying again.
Tyler looked at me.
