His Eternal Flame

by Layla Valentine

  Something was wrong.

  “Oh shit, it’s an actual fire,” Alistair said, grabbing his coat.

  “Fire?” I asked, my voice faint.

  But Alistair was already running through the door, leaving me alone in the room. I tried to move, but my feet remained frozen in place.

  Fire.

  Immediately, I found myself back at my parents’ house, trapped in the bathroom and screaming for help.

  No! This can’t be happening again.

  My rage turned into panic and I felt myself shutting down. I tried to force my feet forward, but I couldn’t move. I struggled to breathe, sure I could smell smoke already, despite the water in the air.

  Water…safe…

  Nothing else mattered. But as I stood there, I realized there was one thing missing.

  Dustin.

  Chapter 19

  Dustin

  I spent the day trying not to think of the coming evening, impatient for the hours to pass so I could see Samantha again. The night before had been perfect in every way, beyond any expectations, and a ball of pure happiness remained lodged somewhere in my chest.

  Which was why, as I was getting ready to leave to pick her up, I was stunned at her unexpected text.

  I’ve changed my mind. I don’t want anything more to do with you. We’re done.

  I reread the text for a third time, my mind turning numb at the completely bewildering and emotionless message.

  “This isn’t right. How could she have turned cold so quickly?” I wondered out loud. My words echoed throughout the silent condo, which still felt saturated with Samantha’s presence. It had only been a few hours since I’d seen her—what could’ve gone wrong?

  No. I won’t accept this. I have to go and talk to her. I’m not letting her do this to me. To us.

  Sure, I’d been the one to run out on her five years before, so maybe this was her way of getting me back. But it was just so out of character, I had a difficult time believing she would ever do something so petty.

  There was this pureness to Samantha’s character that spoke to me, that made me want to be a better person. I couldn’t accept what she wrote, much less that she would send it in a text. I wasn’t giving up without a fight; that much was certain.

  I tugged on my shoes and jogged out the door. She wasn’t supposed to leave town until Monday, so I figured I’d start with her hotel. I didn’t know exactly which one was her room, but I’d ask at the front desk and see if I could charm my way into getting that info.

  Traffic was heavy, so it was nearly a half-hour later before I pulled up to find a crowd of people outside and smoke billowing from one side of the hotel.

  A fire!

  Dread filled me as I hopped out of my car and ran to the crowd, searching for any sign of Samantha. Bewildered staff members and half-dressed guests huddled together, waiting for fire trucks to arrive.

  Of all the days for me not to be on duty.

  But my thoughts quickly returned to Samantha, and I continued scanning for her. Maybe she wasn’t at the hotel after all.

  But then, my gazed snagged on her ex-boyfriend. She’d told me she’d been stuck in meetings with him all day and he’d been glued to her side. If he was here, she had to be nearby, right?

  “Hey,” I called. “You. Samantha’s ex.”

  The man froze before turning to look me up and down.

  “What are you doing here? She said she doesn’t want to see you anymore!”

  His voice quavered and I detected a note of fear in his expression. Something else was going on.

  “Yeah, fine, I can discuss that with her when I find her. Where is she?”

  The guy turned white.

  “Come on, answer.”

  He looked around helplessly.

  “I mean, I thought she was right behind me when the sprinklers went off.”

  My heart dropped.

  “Wait a minute. You know she has this huge phobia of fire and you left her in there alone?”

  He swallowed and turned even paler.

  “I…I didn’t know she—”

  I’d heard enough. I whirled around and ran towards the building. Nearby fire services hadn’t yet arrived, but I didn’t want to wait. I couldn’t. Things might be unsettled between Samantha and me, but even if I didn’t understand why or how, I wasn’t going to leave her alone in a burning hotel a moment longer.

  Her ex called out something behind me, but I ignored him and kept loping forward. I pushed open the doors to the lobby and ran to the closest set of stairs. I knew she was at least three floors up, based on when I’d gotten my friend to stop the elevator the night before, but given that she was a special guest of the conference, I figured she was probably higher up.

  Grateful that my cardio was on point and I hadn’t worn myself out already, having skipped my daily workout, I sprinted up five flights of stairs and kicked the door open. I slid out into the hallway to see a line of doors. Though I’d never actually been in this hotel before yesterday, I’d studied its layout and knew the hallway wound around itself and circled back to the elevators.

  I looked in both directions before remembering what Samantha had told me five years before: I’m a lefty. I’ll always choose that direction first.

  With that thought in mind, I turned left and sprinted away, calling out for Samantha. Fortunately, several doors were open, allowing me to peek in and look for her, but all of the rooms seemed to have been abandoned.

  Once I was done with that floor, I sprinted up to the next level. Smoke filled the corridors, and I stopped to cover my face with my shirt collar before continuing.

  “Samantha? Samantha! It’s me, Dustin! Can you hear me?”

  But no matter how many rooms I looked in, there was no sign of her. I finished with that floor and headed up again. This time, the smoke was even thicker. My pulse raced, thinking that she didn’t have too much time left.

  I stopped to think. She’d mentioned the view from her window was pretty featureless, which meant she had to be on the east side. I took a moment to orient myself before I took off down yet another seemingly endless hall full of half-open doors.

  Suddenly, I stopped. What had she said?

  I couldn’t get out—the doorknob was too hot. I hid in the bathtub; that’s how I survived.

  She had to be hiding in a bathroom, and with the thick doors, she might not be able to hear my calls.

  With that thought in mind, I started checking bathrooms. At the fourth room, I opened the door to see a phone thrown on the floor. It was red, and something about it reminded me of Samantha.

  Without further thought, I flung open the bathroom door.

  “Samantha? Are you here?” I yelled.

  There was no answer, but I stepped forward and yanked aside the curtain.

  She was there, curled up in a ball, soaking wet and shaking violently. I immediately sank down to her level.

  “Samantha, honey. It’s me, Dustin. I’ve got you,” I told her urgently.

  She whipped her head up and looked at me, her eyes wild with terror.

  “D-D-Dustin?”

  I leaned over and pulled her into my arms.

  “You’re safe. I’ve got you.”

  She collapsed into my arms, and I held her for just a moment before pulling away. She gripped my shirt as if to keep me next to her, but I was firm.

  “I need to cover your mouth, okay, because the smoke is getting pretty thick.”

  She managed a nod, and I let her go for a moment to pull off my shirt. Then I carefully wrapped it around her face and tied it securely. Judging by the way she was shaking, I knew there was no way she could stand, so I took as deep a breath as I could in the relatively smoke-free space, then lifted her in my arms.

  The escape route formed in my head, and I thought bleakly of that night five years before when we had laughed our way through the escape route of the Liberty Bell Center. This was as far different a circumstance as I could imagine, one which I wished
wasn’t happening.

  But here we were. Samantha’s life was in danger. I had a job to do, and I wouldn’t fail.

  Tightening my hold on her, I took one more deep breath before plunging into the hall.

  I would save Samantha, no matter the cost.

  Chapter 20

  Samantha

  When Alistair ran out, I wanted to follow, I did. I screamed silently at myself to go out of the door. But images kept flashing in my mind, keeping me frozen in place, replaying that horrible night in my mind. My parents’ house. The bathroom.

  Wait—that was it. The bathtub. That’s where I would be safe.

  I didn’t stop to think of an alternative; of leaving the way Alistair had only moments before. I merely backed into the bathroom, my phone sliding out of my nerveless hands, and climbed into the bathtub. I wanted to turn on the water, but all I could do was curl in on myself.

  Everyone I’d ever loved had left me. And now, I might not ever have a chance to explain to Dustin that I hadn’t sent that awful text.

  It’s not fair, I thought helplessly.

  Unable to move, I dropped my head on my knees, knowing I was trapped. My thoughts spiraled out of control, alternating between visions of the other fire and the way Dustin had smiled at me that morning. The way he’d held my hand. The sound of his voice saying my name.

  “Samantha? Samantha!”

  At first, I thought I was just imagining it, the voice of the one person I wanted to see. But then, he pushed back the curtain, and the sound of metal sliding against metal pulled me partway out of my trance.

  I whipped my head up to see him kneeling in front of me, his body muscular and solid, his eyes full of concern. I wanted to tell him right then, to assure him I hadn’t sent that text, but all I managed to do was collapse into his arms.

  There would be time, later, to explain. For now, it was enough that he was there.

  When he pulled me into his arms, I felt safe for the first time since hearing the alarms. I knew he would save me. I tried to stay still, to not distract him, but I couldn’t manage to unclench my hands around his shirt.

  For some reason, the smell of it helped ground me, keeping the panic at bay enough to keep me from screaming. I needed it desperately, for the halls were thick with black smoke, and it took everything in me to remain silent.

  For his part, Dustin was in his element, navigating the hallways with ease until we reached the closest stairwell. The air was much clearer there, and he tucked my head in as he began the climb down.

  My room was on the seventh floor, and even with his incredible physique, Dustin was gasping by the time we were halfway down. But his grip on me never faltered, and I found myself thankful for the first time that Dustin did what he did.

  When he finally reached the ground floor, Dustin paused at last and leaned against the wall. I thought I might be ready to stand, but Dustin’s next words dissuaded me from that idea.

  “We still have to get through the lobby,” he whispered, his voice hoarse. “The fire likely hasn’t reached this level yet, but there will still be lots of smoke. I’m not as familiar with the layout, but I’ll aim straight towards the door.”

  I tried to reassure him, to tell him I had no doubts, but all I could do was squeeze his arms and nod.

  “Okay, tuck your head in tight against my chest. We’ll go out on the count of three.”

  I did as he asked. With my ear pressed against his chest, I felt more than heard the rumble of his voice as he counted down.

  “One, two, three—”

  He kicked the door open and we were through.

  The smoke in the lobby was thicker than it had been upstairs, making it hard for me to breathe even with his shirt over my face. I couldn’t imagine how he was handling it, but Dustin’s steps never faltered as he navigated his way towards the exit.

  What felt like an hour passed, but I knew it couldn’t have been more than half a minute before I heard him shouting.

  “Medic!”

  Fresh air blew through my hair, accompanied by the sounds of sirens and a screaming crowd of guests.

  We’re out, I realized.

  I lifted my head to see dozens of people around us. Red and blue flashes caught the corners of my vision, but somehow, my gaze snagged on the one face I was sure I never wanted to see again: Alistair.

  As Dustin carried me out, Alistair stood watching, his expression mortified. He’d left me alone in our hotel room, too concerned with saving his own skin to remember my paralyzing fear of fire.

  At any other time, I’d have been angry, but for the moment, I was simply filled to the brim with relief that I was out of the hotel and that Dustin had his arms around me.

  I looked up at the man I knew held my future in his heart.

  “Dustin?” I asked, my voice no more than a croak.

  Immediately, he looked down at me.

  “I think I can stand. I know…your arms…are probably…a little tired,” I whispered.

  It was a feeble attempt at a joke, but Dustin managed a smile. He lowered me gently. When my feet hit the pavement, the world tilted. I clung to Dustin until the sensation passed and looked up at him.

  Paramedics were on the way, but for the moment, the watching crowd disappeared. It was just Dustin and me, and I wanted nothing else but to explain about the text and then kiss him. He smiled down at me.

  “Dustin, I…”

  He started coughing. Alarmed, I stepped forward until I could feel his weight pressing down on me.

  “Dustin? What’s wrong?”

  He tried to answer, but the coughing turned into wheezing as he tried to breathe. His face turned red and before I could move, he collapsed in my arms.

  None too steady on my own feet, I held on long enough to slow his fall before I crumpled, too. I clasped my arms around his neck and pulled his head into my lap.

  “Dustin, please. Talk to me.”

  His eyes met mine, but his gaze had become glassy.

  In that moment, nothing else mattered but him knowing how I felt.

  “I love you. Do you hear me, Dustin? I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”

  His eyelids sagged closed as he passed out.

  Chapter 21

  Dustin

  Flashing lights. An incoherent mix of voices. A voice calling my name. Sirens. Floating through the air. Hands prodding at my skin. Sharp pricking metal. An uneven beat.

  Dustin.

  Silence.

  Dustin!

  I wanted to stay below, in the darkness. It comforted me. It was full of air. And, inside its depths, every image I saw was brighter and clearer than ever.

  “Hey, son. What are you doing there?”

  My dad sat on the porch to watch me spraying the bushes with an old plastic watering can.

  “I’m practicing, Daddy.”

  “Don’t you think it’s a little cold outside to do that?” he asked, pointing to the half-melted snow lining the street in a muddy slush.

  “Firefighters don’t get to take days off, even when it’s cold.”

  My dad laughed long and hard before standing and swinging me into his arms. I dropped the watering can and whooped with glee.

  “It’s a good thing you’re not a firefighter yet.”

  “I’m close!” I protested, jabbing my chest proudly.

  “You’re only six years old, Dustin. You’ve got a long way to go,” he insisted, ruffling my hair. “Besides, your mom made some hot chocolate.”

  “I want some!” I sang, instantly distracted.

  Dad carried me inside, where I saw a steaming cup waiting for me.

  “Put me down! Put me down!” I told my dad.

  He did so, and I hurried out of my coat and beanie and ran into my room. Moments later, I emerged, my red fireman’s hat on my head.

  “What are you doing, honey?” Mom asked.

  “A firefighter has to wear a helmet!”

  “There’s no fire here, son,” Dad interjected
.

  “Yes, there is!” I insisted.

  I pointed at the steam wafting up from the cup of cocoa.

  “Fire!”

  Both of my parents starting laughing.

  “That’s steam, Dustin,” my mom explained. “It happens when something is hot and wet.”

  “It looks like smoke,” I replied, confused.

  “Well, son, it does mean something’s really hot, just like smoke does, so you still have to be careful.”

  I approached the cup carefully and leaned over it.

  “Not too close, Dustin,” my mom chided. “The steam can hurt you if you breathe too deeply.”

  Breathe too deeply. Don’t breathe too deeply. Why did those words cause alarm bells to go off in my head?

  A distant voice echoed into my consciousness.

  “Dustin… The doctors say… The smoke… Your brain… Wake up, Dustin…”

  The voice faded out again. It wasn’t strong enough to pull me out of my dreams.

  “Firefighting requires dedication, passion, mental stability, and physical stamina,” I read off the brochure.

  I was eighteen, fresh out of high school, and trying to decide if I was going straight into a firefighter program, or get a degree first.

  “Firefighters should have Fire Fighter I, Fire Fighter II, HazMat Awareness, and HazMat Operation seals before applying to Basic Structure Fire Protection certification.”

  “Are you gonna stare at that all day?”

  My girlfriend’s voice jerked me out of my research. I’d met her a week before, at the mall. She’d been selling sunglasses and had long, toned legs that put her at nearly eye level with me. She was a year older and a lot of fun, but I knew I was going to get bored pretty soon. I always did.

  “You have something else in mind?” I asked suggestively.

  She giggled and wagged a finger at me, beckoning me out of the chair. Bemused, I pulled her down and brushed my nose against hers.