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“We trained for that. Patty said we’d better not have any because we sucked.”
Kendra laughed. “Are you hungry?”
“God yes.”
She held up a finger in a “wait a sec” gesture, then disappeared. When she came back, she was carrying a tray with a steaming bowl of soup, a mug of hot tea, water, and a bottle of Tylenol.
He popped a couple of Tylenol tablets, then tucked into the soup. She perched on the end of the bed, where Holly had sat. But instead of chattering away, she let him eat in quiet.
“Never had dinner last night,” he explained through spoonfuls of broth. “Just cotton candy and roasted peanuts.”
“You mean the night before last. You’ve been here two nights.”
“What?” He paused between spoonfuls. “No way.”
“Yeah, you were out. I consulted with a doctor and she said just to keep an eye on you, that it would be normal to need lots of sleep after an event like that.”
He went back to his food, which had that telltale Alvin Carter flair. “Did your dad make this soup? Either it’s freaking incredible or I’m literally starving.”
“Yes. He says he needs his favorite trombonist back in action.”
He corrected her. “Only trombonist.”
“He’s being nice, eat the soup.”
“Yes ma’am.”
She leaned forward and plucked a paper towel off the tray to wipe away a dribble of soup from his chin. He rolled his eyes at himself. “Guess I am literally starving.”
“An appetite is a good sign. So, are you ready for a big old dose of news?”
“Holly already filled me in.”
“Oh really? Did she tell you there are news crews lining up to talk to you?”
His head jerked up. “What are you talking about?”
“It’s a big story. A billionaire and his son rescued by a lone hero firefighter. There’s even visuals. Some teenagers having a campout saw the flames and got out their iPhones.”
He groaned and pushed away the food. Then remembered that he was still ravenous and took it back. “I’m not going on the news or any of that shit. Not feeling like this.”
“Don’t tell me, I’m not your PR agent.” She leaned backwards to grab a messenger bag she’d brought with her. “But Peggy showed me some of the emails the fire station is getting. Most are favorable, but there’s always someone who isn’t happy. Some people think you should have let the billionaire drown.”
He took the printouts she handed him and scanned through them. Fan mail. Huh. The closest he’d ever gotten to fan mail before was the occasional heartfelt kid’s drawing after he rescued a cat from a tree.
Speaking of which…he longed for his dog right now. He’d even allow him to spread his hairy bulk across the foot of his bed. “Rusty hasn’t gone after any reporters yet, has he?”
“Not that I know of.”
“Is it safe to bring him here?”
“You miss your dog, huh?”
“I’m a nine-year-old boy at heart.”
Kendra cocked her head at him. Sympathetically, he thought? But he couldn’t be sure because the Tylenol was kicking in and his eyes wanted to close. “I can bring Rusty to you. Are you saying you want to hang out here for a while longer? Are you in hiding?”
“Until I’m up to facing news cameras, if it’s okay.”
