Page 123 of How to Fan the Flames

“But his wife—”

My voice stops.

There is no professional word for that sound.

There is no box on the incident report for the way a woman screams when the person she has built a life around is suddenly a body in the rain.

My eyes sting.

I blink hard.

It does nothing useful.

“I can still hear her,” I say.

AJ takes one step closer.

Slow enough that I can stop him.

I do not.

“I’m here,” he says.

It is not much.

It is everything I cannot ask for.

For one second, we both stand very still.

Then my face crumples.

Not fully.

Not loudly.

But enough that I feel it happen. Enough that the last careful seam gives way.

AJ closes the distance between us, and when he lifts his arms, he still waits.

One breath.

One chance for me to refuse.

I do not take it.

I step into him instead.

Hard.

Like I am angry about needing somewhere to go.

His arms come around me.

Not tight enough to trap.

Tight enough to hold.

And that is what does it.