Page 70 of We Can Forever

I blink. She is? Why didn’t she tell me?

Maybe this is a really bad one. She did respond to my text yesterday telling her I was fine after the fire, but after I followed up by saying I needed to see her, she went dark. Has she been curled up in bed this whole time, too in pain to even pick up her phone?

“Shit.” I rub my jaw. “Okay. I’ll go see her. Do you know if she needs anything brought over?”

“Uh…Michael?” She reaches out a hand. Stops. Purses her lips and looks away.

“What?” I cock my head. There’s something she isn’t telling me. “What is it?”

Her throat rolls with a swallow. “It’s more than just the flare,” she whispers. “Yesterday was really hard on Hannah. Seeing you in danger, not knowing if you’d be all right… It took a toll on her.”

I feel my eyebrows rise. “It wasn’t exactly a walk in the park for me either.”

And not just because my team and I were in danger. Being in that fire brought up so much about my dad—regrets that I didn’t know I still had.

He was right about Katie, as much as I haven’t wanted to admit it. Hell, he was right about the firehouse kitchen too. I’ve been stumped when it comes to the renovations, but his plans show that he knew exactly what to do.

Most of all, he was right when it comes to family and community. Right about how important it is to keep our bonds strong, to spend every day we have with the people we love, because we never know which breath will be our last.

Flick sighs. “I know, and I’m not trying to diminish your experience. I’m sorry about that.”

I push my fingers through my hair, frustrated. “I’m sorry too. I didn’t mean to snap. Her flare… What caused it?”

She smiles, but it’s a sad one. “Emotional stress is a big trigger.”

My mouth goes dry. Got it. Emotional stress, like the kind you experience when someone you love is in danger.

Is it my fault Hannah flared?

That’s a hard pill to swallow, but I already know I’m being too hard on myself, and it’s no one’s fault. It’s not her fault that she has fibromyalgia, and it’s not my fault some wannabe pyro lit that Bunsen burner. This is just life. We’re dealt certain cards, and we play them to the best of our ability.

The only thing I know for sure is that, no matter what cards we hold, I want to be seated next to her at the table. Always.

“I need to see her.” Before Flick can answer, I’m out the door and jogging for where my truck is parked at the firehouse.

Ten minutes later, I knock on Hannah’s door, palms sweaty and heart racing. I need her in my arms so bad that I have the shakes. I need to kiss her, tell her I love her, that she means the world to me. If I can do that, everything will melt away.

The stress from the fire. The fear that I put her through. It’ll all be gone.

The door opens, and she stands there, dressed in an oversized sweater and leggings, bags under her eyes.

“Hey,” I breathe.

“Hi.”

Gently, in case she’s in pain, I pull her into my arms. When she wraps her arms around me, I tighten the hold.

“I love you,” I breathe into her hair, tears pricking my eyes. “God, Hannah, I’m so happy to see you. Last night, all I could think about was you. How are you feeling? Flick said you’re having a flare.”

Drawing back, I study her face, heavy with fatigue. “I can stay here with you unless I get a call to go in. Have you eaten today?”

Her eyebrows knit together. “You have a bruise.” She touches the welt on my temple.

I shrug. “It’s no big deal. I’ve had worse.”

She drops her hand and backs away like she’s been shocked.

“What’s wrong?” I suddenly feel cold all over.

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