Page 15 of Ablaze

A tear runs down her cheek, and I get on my feet to cross the distance between us and sit down right next to her. I pull her into my side and she lays her head on my shoulder. “Nothing has been easy without him . . . I still miss him with every fiber in my body.”

My throat tightens but I try to keep it together, remembering my buddy’s words as he lay on his hospital deathbed, taking his last few breaths–days after we’d fought one of the worst forest fires in California history. He knew he was up on his time. Even when the doctors and family tried to keep it from him, he knew.

“Make sure she smiles again, Dean. Don’t let her lose her spark. She’s too bright to lose her spark.”

“I won’t,” I promised him, though I didn’t know how I was going to fulfill that promise. “I’ll take care of her.” My chin wobbled, making my words come out all choppy. “I’ll take care of her, buddy, so you rest assured. Okay? You rest.”

Minutes later, he was gone, with Jane wrapped around him, sobbing into his neck.

I cup Jane’s face in between my palms and wipe her tears with my thumb. “I miss him, too, J. I always will. He wasn’t just one of the best firemen I ever worked with, he was a mentor and a friend to me. But this isn’t what he’d want for you. You can’t tell me this–not sleeping, not eating, not taking care of yourself, three years later–is what would make him happy.”

Jane nods, her face resting in my palms. “I know,” she whispers. “I know, Dean. But sometimes I wish I could have just gone with him. Sometimes it all feels like it’s too much.” Her moss-colored eyes meet mine and pain tears through her features before she speaks again. “Do you remember what I said to you the day he died?”

My breath stalls, my eyes bouncing between hers. I give her a quick nod.

Of course I remember what she’d said to me that day. How could I forget? How does one forget words that shredded their heart and fundamentally changed the course of their life forever?

At the time, I’d chalked it up to her grieving, but her words stirred inside my head for weeks and years afterward. Up until then, I’d thought I was the same as anyone else. Up until then, I thought I deserved what anyone else did–the pursuit of love, a picket fence, and a life with my wife at my side and my children running amok in our backyard.

But it was Jane’s words that made me realize how selfish that desire was. How selfish it was for me to think I had a right to take anyone else down with me when this–my life, my career, my decision–was my choice. A choice I made every single day without regret, but a choice I had no right to force on someone else.

“Do you remember how I told you that if I could do it all over again, if I could go back in time to that bar where I met Zander, to that moment when he asked me for my number and it changed my life forever–even knowing the profound love I would have in my life with him in it–that I would turn him down?” She nods as if underscoring her statement. “Knowing what I know now, I would have walked away from him, Dean. I would have walked away.”

“You don’t mean that–”

“I do.” She takes in a shaky breath, but her voice stays resolute. “I do mean it. Because, if I knew what I know now–the anguish I’ve felt for the past three years, the sheer weight of life without him–I’d tell that naive girl sitting at the bar, looking into those alluring brown eyes and making wishes that should never have been made, that the worst thing she could do for herself would be to fall for a firefighter. Even worse would be to marry one.”

* * *

I inhale a large breath and release it slowly before opening the door. It does nothing to calm my racing pulse and the twist that’s been in my stomach ever since I left Jane’s house this morning. I knew what I had to do. “Hey.”

“Hi, Pooks!” Nora walks inside, wrapping her arms around my neck before planting a kiss on my lips. She pulls back with her brows knitted when I don’t reciprocate the affection. “Wha–what’s wrong?”

I swallow, tilting my head toward the living room. “Can we talk?”

She follows me, her heels clicking more hesitantly than usual. “Sure. Um, is this about meeting my parents tonight?”

I wave a hand toward the couch. “Why don’t we sit?”

Nora wraps the unbuttoned red coat around her protectively. “No, I think I’m more comfortable standing.” Her features tighten as if she’s preparing for battle. “What is it, Dean? I can tell something is wrong.”

I slide my hands into my jean pockets, running my tongue against the inside of my lip. “This isn’t working.”

“You–” Nora looks to her right before her knitted brows find my face again. “This,” she points between us, “as in . . . us?”

I close my eyes momentarily before nodding.

“Is this about meeting my parents? Because you think we’re going too fast? I can back off, Dean. I didn’t mean to pressure–”

“No. This has nothing to do with your parents.”

It has to do with the fact that I don’t know what I want.

It has to do with the fact that a loss like what Jane feels isn’t something I’m willing to put someone else through.

It has to do with the fact that nothing and no one is worth that kind of risk.

It has to do with the fact that I don’t love you. And I never will.

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