Page 83 of Knotting the Firefighters
But I'm a coward, apparently. Content to hold her while she sleeps, to delay the inevitable conversation that will require honesty I'm not prepared to deliver, to postpone the moment where I see disappointment replace trust in those vivid green eyes.
Tomorrow.
I'll tell her tomorrow.
Give myself one more night pretending choices aren't necessary, pretending we have time, pretending love is enough to overcome logistics and distance and all the practical reasons this can't work.
My head falls back against the headboard, exhaustion pulling at consciousness despite racing thoughts. The cottage is warm, Wendolyn is safe in my arms, and the moment is peaceful in ways that belie the chaos approaching.
Just a few more hours.
A few more hours of this safety, this connection, this pretense that nothing has to change.
Before dawn arrives and forces a decision I'm not ready to make.
But ready or not, morning is coming. The sunrise will illuminate choices I've been avoiding, will demand commitment to a path that excludes alternatives, and will transform theoretical deliberation into concrete action with permanent consequences.
Choose career—lose Wendolyn.
Choose Wendolyn—lose career.
Choose anything—lose part of myself either way.
The mathematics are brutal, unforgiving, and completely accurate. There's no winning scenario, no clever solution thatpreserves everything, no way forward that doesn't require sacrifice.
Just different versions of loss.
Different futures built on different regrets.
Different ways to break my own heart while destroying hers in the process.
I tighten my hold on her sleeping form, savoring warmth and weight and the particular way she fits against me like a missing piece I didn't know I needed until she appeared.
How do you choose?
When every option destroys something precious?
When staying and leaving both guarantee different catastrophes?
The questions circle without answers, exhausting mental loops that lead nowhere productive. My eyes drift closed despite my intention to stay awake, to use these final hours planning rather than sleeping, to somehow arrive at a solution that makes this bearable.
But there is no solution.
Just a decision.
Binary choice with permanent consequences.
Accept LA position—captain's badge, professional validation, everything I've worked for, nothing that actually matters.
Or stay in Sweetwater Falls—Wendolyn's proximity, domestic comfort, watching her fall in love with Alphas who aren't me.
The options play on repeat, each rotation revealing new angles, every consideration adding weight rather than clarity.
Decide.
Just fucking decide.
Make the choice and live with the consequences.
