My Foolish Heart Read Online Free

pulling the man with him.
    Thank You, God—he didn’t fall.
    The toddler’s screams tore at Caleb as he hobbled away, the man’s arm latched over his shoulder.
    â€œMy daughter—my wife!”
    â€œI’ll get them. Stay here.”
    He set the man on the curb, then glanced down the darkened road, dead and eerie this time of night. Where were the police? Across the street, the other car had begun to flame. He ran over to it, found the driver—a young man the size of a has-been linebacker who reeked like he’d taken the pub home with him—slumped at the wheel. Caleb pressed two fingers to his carotid artery but found no pulse.
    The flames flickered under the hood, stabbing out like blades around the edges. He tried the door once. It wouldn’t move, so he left it.
    Where was the fire department?
    The rain slickened the pavement, more so for him, but he scrambled back to the passenger side of the Caravan. He’d done a few vehicle extractions while in Iraq, but then he’d had tools, of course. He leaned in but the woman’s girth wouldn’t allow him access. He slid his hand across her belly, trying to find the buckle and—
    Pregnant. The woman was pregnant. Oh, God, please . . .
    Behind them, the toddler’s frantic howls ate at him. “C’mon!” He stifled a word, even as he tried once more to reach the woman’s belt. When he yanked his arm back, his hand came away wet, sticky.
    Blood.
    Caleb pressed his fingers to the woman’s carotid artery. Yes, a pulse. For now. “Ma’am, wake up.”
    â€œIt’s on fire—the van’s on fire!” The voice of the panicked father raked him out of the passenger window. The gasoline from the other car bled a lethal trail to the Caravan, and eye-biting smoke blew into the window on the driver’s side.
    Caleb tried the back passenger door, fought with it. Nothing. He put his weight into it. They’d need Jaws . . .
    The child’s cries turned hysterical and galvanized him. He turned his back to the van, then, with everything inside him, put his elbow through the window.
    Pain spiked up his arm, but he whirled around, sliding over the shattered glass. Flames had already begun to devour the seats, the ceiling fabric, churning acrid smoke into the cab. The toddler thrashed in her seat. He unlatched the first thing he saw—the buckle holding the seat. Catching the car seat, he dragged it out behind him, the toddler still strapped inside.
    The father struggled to his feet, and Caleb practically shoved the child into his arms. “Get back!”
    â€œMy wife—she’s pregnant—”
    Now— finally —sirens. Only the man’s wife didn’t have time, not with the flames moving swiftly across the ceiling.
    God, please don’t let her burn! Caleb dove inside again, this time shoving himself against the woman, fighting for a handhold on the buckle. He touched it. It sizzled on his skin, but he depressed it.
    The woman fell hard against him. He backed out of the window, grabbed her shoulders. He needed more leverage. He would have braced his foot against the vehicle, but of course, he couldn’t do that—not and keep his balance.
    You have to get used to the fact that you can’t do the things you could before.
    Collin’s voice in his brain only strengthened Caleb’s grip on the woman. He pulled her through the window, but her belly scraped against the frame, imprisoning her.
    She roused fast, hard, her eyes on his. “I’m burning—I’m burning!”
    Burning.
    No, he wouldn’t go there.
    He found his medic’s tone, the one he’d honed in Iraq. “I’ll get you out.” Preserve life in the living. Yes, that voice he’d listen to.
    A fire engine pulled up, firefighters swarming onto the scene.
    She gripped his upper arms, her eyes wide. “Don’t leave me—pull me out!