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Rob grabs his shoulder. Then he grabs mine. His goggles are fogged up, and his face is black with soot, and he gives me the biggest, dumbest grin I’ve ever seen.

“Hi, Lindsey. Nice day for it.”

I laugh and cough at the same time.

“Could’ve picked a better day for a picnic,” I manage.

“Next time, bring sandwiches.”

Travis doesn’t laugh. He’s looking at me like he wants to pick me up and run all the way back to town.

Rob heads for the truck, and Travis scoops me up off the ground without asking, one arm under my knees, one arm behind my back.

“I can walk.”

“I know.”

“Then why are you carrying me?”

“Because I want to.”

I put my arms around his neck and let him.

The wind hits us as he carries me away from the house. Ash blows across the meadow in little gray waves, and I can hear the fire somewhere to the south, a low, ugly roar that sounds nothing like a campfire. Rob gets the truck moving, creeping across the burned ground with the headlights on. He stops in a wide, open patch where there’s nothing around us but black earth.

Travis waits while Rob checks the ground around the tires and the distance to the nearest unburned grass. Then Rob gives him a thumbs-up.

“Looks good here.”

Travis opens the rear door and sets me on the seat. The cab smells like smoke and hot vinyl and the coffee somebody spilled in the cup holder. He climbs in beside me, pulls the door shut, and tells Rob to put the ventilation on recirculate.

The wind rocks the truck.

Rob is in the driver’s seat with the radio in his hand, looking through the windshield at a world that’s mostly gray. Every now and then, a gust clears enough smoke for me to see the black meadow, but it closes in again almost immediately.

Travis pulls off his gloves and takes my hands.

“Let me see you.”

He takes the mask off long enough to look at my face, checking my eyes and my mouth before putting it back in place.

“Any dizziness? Headache?”

“My eyes hurt. My throat hurts. Everything tastes like a fireplace.”

“Any nausea?”

“No.”

“Good. Tell me if that changes.”

He puts his fingers against my wrist and watches me breathe for a few seconds. I can tell he’s counting something. Probably my pulse. He’s doing that firefighter thing where his face turns serious and he starts asking questions like I’m a patient instead of the woman who nearly gave him a heart attack.

At least I think I nearly gave him a heart attack.

Then he takes off his helmet and goggles, and I see his face.

There’s soot everywhere except for a clean outline where the goggles were. Like a raccoon. A big, scary, beautiful raccoon.