My Butterfly by Laura Miller Page A

already on me.
    “I’m so sorry, Jules,” I said.
    They were the only words I had.
    Her lips forced a half-smile, but I could tell it was sad. I slowly stood up and kissed her on the lips.
    “I’ll call Jeff to come get you,” I said, reaching for my phone in my pocket.
    “No,” she said. “It’s okay. I’ll call Rachel.”
    I stopped.
    “You sure?” I asked.
    “Yeah,” she said, nodding her head. “I need to talk to her anyway.”
    I slowly shoved my phone back into my pocket and found her eyes again. It broke my heart to leave her on our anniversary.
    “Go,” she said. “Someone needs you.”
    I tried to give her the best smile I could muster up. Then, I started to turn.
    “Will,” she said, stopping me.
    I turned back around and faced her.
    “Be careful,” she said.
    One side of my mouth lifted into a grin.
    “I’ll call you,” I said.
    Then, I turned again and made my way toward the small restaurant’s exit.
    When I reached the door, I pushed it open and flew across the parking lot and into my truck. Once inside the cab, I slammed the door behind me and then stopped and rested my head on the steering wheel for a split second. A deep sigh later, I spun around and searched for my light in the backseat. I found it on the floor, unrolled the window and stuck it to the roof. Then, I threw the truck into reverse and peeled out of the little, gravel parking lot.
    I arrived at the station a few minutes later and rushed inside.
    “Residential fire?” I asked the captain, as I slipped into my boots and threw on my gear.
    “Yeah,” he said and then quickly disappeared behind the truck.
    I stopped for a second from adjusting my suspenders. There had been a look on the captain’s face. And looks like that were pretty rare on a face that had seen all that you could fit inside twenty years on the department.
    I tried to shake it off, then threw on my jacket and grabbed my hat.
    Within a minute, there were four of us in the truck, with Bryan, our engineer, in the driver’s seat. And Mike was in the tanker behind us. But I couldn’t stop thinking about Jules. I wanted so badly to call her, even if it did seem ridiculous at the moment, but my phone was in my truck, back at the station, and with the sirens howling above me, I wouldn’t be able to hear her anyway. Instead, I settled on staring out the window, as the truck breezed by stop signs—only making half-efforts to tap the brakes at each one—and praying that I’d make it back in time to still hang out with Jules some.
    Suddenly, we all swayed to one side as the engine’s wheels hit the blacktop that carved a path away from town. And soon, everything outside of the window turned black, and it stayed that way for the most part, until I would spot, every once in a while, a porch light on in a house at least a half of a mile or so off the road.
    It was another ten minutes, though, before the engine slowed and took a turn at a place far enough outside of town that any other time would have taken a good fifteen to get to. And it was only then that I could see the smoke. It was illuminated in the dark by the flames beneath it. But even it was still a ways away, at the end of a long driveway. I swayed to the side as the engine turned sharply again and followed a bend in the path, finally revealing a clearing. Then, I could see the fire’s flames threatening to reach above the tree tops on one side of the house. It was a pretty big house, but that one side looked pretty shot.
    Adrenaline instinctively shot through my veins. Fire could be a pretty devastating creature on the life people worked so hard to cre ate, and this blaze looked as though it was no exception.
    We neared the house, and I could see a couple of people standing outside. A woman was crying. I recognized her, but I didn’t know her well. Her kids went to the school in the town up the road. And there was another woman with her, and she looked as if she was dialing something on her