hesitated.
“He was conscious when they transported him.”
“That isn’t an answer.”
There had been a warehouse fire that morning. Tyler and two other firefighters were inside when part of the structure collapsed. Everyone made it out, but Tyler took the worst of the impact.
I could barely process the words.
Tyler had called me that morning.
He had sounded completely normal.
He had smiled in our kitchen, told me not to do anything crazy, and said he loved me.
Now those ordinary words felt terrifyingly important.
“Why didn’t anyone
call me?”
“We tried,” Reyes said.
I pulled out my phone.
No missed calls.
No messages.
Nothing.
Reyes checked Tyler’s emergency contact information and went quiet.
The station still had my old phone number, one I had changed almost two years earlier.
“I need to go.”
Reyes offered to drive me, but I refused.
I untied the birthday balloons from






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