Page 52 of Venus
“I can’t stop thinking about that day,” he says suddenly, voice frayed.
I move to lean around him and meet his eyes, waiting for him to continue.
“One minute we were sharing candy. Then there was fire. Then he was gone.” His throat moved like it hurt to speak. “I was holding his hand. It was all I could do, because I wasn’t strong enough to get him out. I should have called the mayday sooner. I should have-”
“Carter,” I say, quiet but firm, fingers stalling on his skin. I reach up, touched his jaw on a patch of skin that isn’t burned and rub my finger back and forth before forcing him to look at me. “You did more than anyone else would have. And he knew that. We all do.”
He breaks.
He folds into my arms like he can’t be bothered to support his own weight anymore—like the world is too heavy on his shoulders. He tightly clutches my arms as I carefully wrap them around him, trying not to cause him pain. He sobs into the air, and I just hold him as he lets out raw, broken gasps of grief.
Minutes pass before he grows quiet. Then, he sits up, turns, and kisses me. It comes out of nowhere. It’s not gentle or romantic. It’s…wrecked. Desperate. Not in a lustful way, but like he’s searching for a way to feel anything other than this pain he’s working through. I let him do what he wants. He squeezes my breast under my hoodie, and kisses me again, harder now.
But then he breaks down again, because whatever he was searching for, he didn’t find. He collapses into me again, wrapping his arms around me as tight as his injuries will let him. I stroke his hair and let him cry it out again, kissing the crown of his head and rocking him softly from side to side.
“I’m here,” I whisper. “I know I ran before, but I promise I’m not going anywhere. I’m sorry it took nearly losing you to admit that, but whatever journey you have ahead of you, I’ll be right by your side.”
He sniffles into my chest, then whispers, “Just stay with me.”
I nod against the top of his head. “Yeah. I’ll stay.”
And I do.
Chapter 30 | Vulcan
The sky looks like it hasn’t seen the sun in days. It just hangs there—low and gray and heavy, tasting like rain that’s waiting for a dramatic moment to fall. Dark, rumbling clouds stretch across the crowded cemetery.
The whole town has pressed pause on the day. People of all ages gathered to pay their respects to a man they don’t really know.
My collar feels too tight, like it’s intentionally suffocating me as I stand like a statue. One hand is clenched tightly at my side while the other is white-knuckling an umbrella. I can’t feel my fingers. I can’t feel my toes.
I can’tfeel.
The casket is too close.
It’s not close at all.
But it’stoo close.
It’s polished navy-blue. His favorite color. The flag that flew on the truck the day we lost him is lifted from his closed-casket and sharply folded into a triangle. Captain Rodriguez hands it’s perfect corners to hissobbing mother like the precision could make up for everything the fire took from her.
Trevor would have hated this. The ceremony, the pageantry, the solemn quiet that no one is brave enough to break through. He would have made a joke about how the flowers look like dicks or how stiff we all look in our suits. I can almost hear him, like he’s standing right next to me, watching us say goodbye to his unrecognizable body.
He would have laughed at me for being a sentimental bastard and shedding a tear when I was allowed to give his last call on the county radio station.
Attention all units. Attention all units.
This is Terracotta Fire Department Engine One Lieutenant Carter Westwood.
Driver Engineer Trevor Knight has answered his final call after six years of dedicated service to the Terracotta, Georgia community.
Be at peace now brother, we’ll take it from here.
A long pause.
You go, we go.
Engine One, clear.
