Page 51 of Ashes of Us
You don't get to keep doing this. You don't get to keep being the guy who fucks up and then feels bad about it and calls that growth. You destroyed the best thing that ever happened to you, and she's moved on, and you need to move on too.
Not by forgetting her. Not by pretending it didn't happen. By actually becoming someone different. Someone who wouldn't make those choices. Someone who doesn't run when things get hard.
You need to kill the old Liam. The coward. The selfish asshole who thought he could have everything without consequences.
She's not coming back. She shouldn't come back. And you need to stop hoping she will.
Figure out who you are without her. Then figure out how to be better.
I read it over twice. Then I locked my phone and stood up.
The apartment windows were dark. Someone else lived there now, living their own life, making their own mistakes. Maybe they sat on this bench too. Maybe they had it figured out in ways I never did.
I walked back to my truck and got in.
Captain Carter had given me a week to fix this or figure out how to live with it.
I couldn't fix it. Couldn't undo what I'd done, couldn't make Piper forgive me, couldn't go back and be the man she deserved.
But I could stop being the man who destroyed her.
I could start there.
I put the truck in drive and headed back to Station 34, leaving Lavender Creek and our old apartment and the ghost of who I used to be behind.
For real this time.
CHAPTER 20: LIAM
FIVE MONTHS LATER
"Okay, talk me through it." I kept my voice calm, even though the kid—Caleb, three months out of the academy—looked like he might puke inside his mask.
The garage was belching thick gray smoke, the kind that meant plastics, maybe wiring. The lights inside flickered, something still arcing. Nothing spectacular, but hot, dirty, and unpredictable. This was the type of call rookies hate: not dramatic enough for adrenaline, not safe enough to relax.
Caleb’s hands trembled on the hose line. "Uh—we, uh?—"
"Take a breath," I said. "You know this."
He nodded, swallowed hard. "We assess the structure first. Make sure it's safe to approach."
"Good. What are we looking for?"
"Stability. Collapse risk. Clear exits." He paused, scanning the frame. "And, oh, the power might still be live. Should we cut it?"
"Already killed it," I said, tilting my chin toward the breaker box. "What else?"
"Propane tank."
"Where?"
He pointed to the back corner of the garage, near the workbench. His voice steadied. "Too close to the fire."
"Good eye. What’s your move?"
"Approach from upwind, keep low, focus on cooling that area first."
"Then do it."
