Page 48 of Firefly Embers

As Stella shut the front door and turned off the foyer light, I felt her arms come around me in a tight hug. I leaned on my friend as I let the tears flow, not bothering to hold back the emotion that was weighing me down.

I knew this was what both Wade and I needed, but it didn’t mean it wasn’t going to be the hardest thing we’d ever gone through.

“It’s going to be okay,” Stella crooned, rubbing soft circles on my back and letting me purge every pent-up feeling in the form of tears soaking through her nightshirt.

After a couple of minutes of mental breakdown, I took a step back and wiped the still-flowing tears from below my eyes.

“Thank you,” I said softly, sniffling and using the sleeve of my shirt to wipe away my snot. I couldn’t find it in myself to care about my appearance when half of my heart was gone.

“That’s what best friends are for,” she responded as she grabbed my hand and gently squeezed three times. I squeezed back, feeling the sentiment to my core. “Now, let’s crack open that wine, and I’ll live vicariously through you until I’m able to drink again.”

WADE

Ember Ridge sat to the north of Firefly Cove, hidden among the sprawling landscape of the Georgia coast. It was another small town with nosy neighbors, ‌few amenities, and a couple of hidden gems.

My buddy Sterling lived on the outskirts of the small town, having been raised on one of the largest ranches in the state. His father was a big-time bronc rider who had retired after a one-night stand dropped Sterling on his doorstep.

He went from riding broncs to roping a toddler in eight seconds, flat.

Their ranch, passed down from one generation to the next, embodied old money. They had state-of-the-art facilities, plenty of hired help, and one of the most successful breeding programs in the state.

Unfortunately, I wasn’t there to hang out and shoot the shit around a bonfire at the Morgen Ranch.

After a little over two hours of driving, I pulled into the parking lot of the Ember Ridge Recovery Center, idling my truck in one of the empty spaces near the back of the lot.

I’d made it this far, and I couldn’t back down now. I checked the clock, the LED lights glaring in the dark cab: two in the morning.

When I’d spoken to the intake coordinator on the phone, she had said they are open twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. They knew that walking through those sliding glass doors was half the battle, so they made themselves available whenever the need arose.

With a heavy sigh, I cut the engine and unbuckled my seatbelt. One step at a time. I could do this if I took it one fucking baby step at a time.

I snagged my duffel bag from the back seat, slinging it over my shoulder as I locked the truck and walked slowly toward the front doors of the building.

It was quiet out. The same peaceful feeling of being on the ranch washed over my skin, giving me an added edge of confidence.

A stone walkway led to a massive overhang that shielded the front doors. Wooden benches lined its edges alongside planters filled with flowers.

I had expected it to feel more sterile, seeing how it was a medical treatment facility, but nothing about this building stood out as clinical. It felt oddly welcoming with each measured step I took closer to the entrance.

A large part of me was looking for something to be wrong with this situation. Each step of the way, I’d been met with perfect timing, calm surroundings, and an easy cadence to my breathing. I wanted a reason for me to get back in my truck and drive back to Firefly Cove, losing myself in Ray.

Yet, as if the stars were aligning, and Ma was whispering in my ear, I kept walking toward hopeful healing and growth. I couldn’t go back to Ray the same broken man I was when I left.

The automatic doors opened with a whoosh, and I stepped into the brightly lit foyer. It smelled like cinnamon and vanilla, a warm and welcoming hug of fragrance as I eased my way toward the front desk.

The middle-aged woman sitting behind the desk looked up with a wide smile, adjusting her glasses up on the bridge of her nose and standing to greet me.

“Welcome to Ember Ridge. You must be Wade,” she said sweetly as she rounded the edge of the desk with her hand outstretched. “I’m Lydia, one of the intake coordinators here. We’re happy to have you.”

I didn’t trust myself to speak, afraid of what might come out, but I took her small hand in mine and gave it a brief shake.

“Why don’t we head back to my office and go over a few things? Do you have everything with you that you’ll need?”

I nodded again, clearing my throat of the emotion that was bubbling up. “Yes, ma’am.”

Everything about this was beginning to feel real, and I could feel the tightness of anxiety clawing at my chest with each step we took away from the front doors.

She led me down a series of hallways, stopping outside of a wooden door while she found the key and unlocked it.