Page 6 of Feastin' with Fire
I take it with trembling fingers. It's the picture of me on graduation day, standing proud in front of the university building where I'd finally gathered the courage to tell my parentsI wasn't going to medical school. Before everything fell apart. Before I'd learned how conditional their love really was.
"I thought it might be important," Jimmy says.
A sob escapes me before I can stop it. This small kindness… This stranger salvaging this one small piece of my past breaks the dam I've been desperately trying to hold together.
"I'm sorry," I gasp between sobs, clutching the damaged photo. "I'm so sorry."
"Hey," he says, his deep voice gentle. "You don't need to apologize. Not for this."
I cry then, really cry, all the fear and loss and uncertainty pouring out of me. Through my tears, I see Jimmy Sullivan sitting quietly, not trying to fix it or tell me everything will be okay. Just bearing witness to my grief, which feels like exactly what I need.
When the storm of tears finally subsides, I wipe my face with the back of my bandaged hand, embarrassed but somehow lighter.
"I don't usually fall apart in front of strangers," I say, attempting a watery smile.
"I'm not feeling very much like a stranger anymore," he replies, the corner of his mouth lifting slightly. "Not after pulling you out of a burning building and sitting through that impressive crying jag."
A surprised laugh escapes me, and his almost-smile widens into something genuine.
"I have a proposition for you," he says, the smile fading back into seriousness. "I've got a house with a spare room. It's nothing fancy, but it's clean and quiet. You're welcome to stay there while you figure out your next steps."
I stare at him, certain I've misheard. "You want me to stay with you? You don't even know me."
"I know you're alone in a town where you just lost everything," he says. "And I know what that feels like."
Something in his tone tells me he's not just saying that. This man understands loss in a way most people don't.
"I can't accept that," I say, though a part of me desperately wants to. "It's too much."
"It's just a room, Lily," he says, and the sound of my name in his deep voice does something strange to my stomach. "One you probably won't need for long. The offer's there if you want it."
Before I can respond, a nurse appears in the doorway. "Visiting hours are ending soon," she say.
Jimmy nods and stands up, his large frame making the hospital room seem suddenly smaller.
"Think about it," he says. "I'll come back tomorrow when they discharge you. If you want a ride somewhere else, I can do that too."
I should say no. I should refuse this too-generous offer from a man I barely know. But as I look up at Jimmy Sullivan, at the quiet strength in his stance and the understanding in his eyes, I realize that for the first time since the fire alarm went off, I feel something other than despair.
"Thanksgiving miracle, right?" I say. "Thank you."
He nods once, like we've settled an important matter, and moves toward the door. "Get some rest. Things have a way of looking different in the morning."
After he leaves, I sit in the quiet room, holding the singed photograph and wondering how a day that destroyed everythingI owned could somehow end with an unexpected door opening. It doesn't make sense. Nothing about today makes sense.
But as I finally lie back against the hospital pillows, exhaustion claiming me, one thought floats through my mind: maybe sometimes help comes from the most unexpected places.
Maybe sometimes it comes in the form of a firefighter with understanding eyes and hands scarred from pulling people like me from the flames.
Chapter 5 - Jimmy
The station is quiet this morning. Just routine equipment checks and paperwork while we wait for the next call. And there are always calls on Thanksgiving.
I'm cleaning the hose fittings, a mindless task that usually helps me think, but today my thoughts keep drifting to Lily Anderson.
I checked with the hospital before my shift started. They confirmed she'd be discharged by noon. I told her I'd come pick her up, but now I'm wondering if she'll change her mind about staying at my place. It was a rash offer, one that surprised me even as the words left my mouth. I'm not exactly in the habit of inviting strangers to live with me.
"You look like you're trying to polish that fitting into oblivion, Sullivan," Tommy says, dropping into the chair across from me. "What's eating you?"
