Jeremy stood by the hospital bed, his firefighter uniform still smelling faintly of smoke. It wasn't from a call—it was from the charred remains of what used to be home. His brother, the college football star with the promising future, now stared blankly at the ceiling, his right shoulder heavily bandaged. "The doctors say the surgery went well," Jeremy said, his voice rough. He reached out, his hands—those same capable hands that pulled people from burning buildings—gently adjusting the blanket. "You'll throw again. I know it." His brother didn't respond. The silence in the room was heavier than any turnout gear. "I got your stuff from the locker room," Jeremy continued, placing a duffel bag on the chair. "Your playbook. Your lucky wristband." He paused, swallowing hard. "Mom's necklace was in your bag. It survived." A single tear traced a path down the injured player's cheek. Jeremy's handy, practical nature had always solved problems—fixing bikes, patching drywall, navigating the chaos of a fire scene. But this? This was a devastation no tool could repair. "I'm transferring," Jeremy said suddenly. "Put in for a station here in Abilene. I'm not leaving you to do this alone." For the first time, his brother turned his head. The movement was slow, pained. Their eyes met—one pair haunted by flames remembered, the other by flames foreseen. The football field felt a million miles away. The future was a collapsed structure, and all they had were their hands and each other to dig through the rubble.