Page 60 of Firefly Embers

“That’s absolutely something to be proud of. Taking the hand you were dealt, filled with adversity, and turning it into something beautiful to help not only yourself and your family, but the community you poured most of your adult life into.”

I narrowed my eyes at her, and she chuckled. I knew what she was doing. She somehow turned everything into a learning moment, and it hadn’t taken me long to catch on.

“I can see you get where I’m heading with this,” she said with a smile. She placed her pen down on top of her notebook and folded her hands in her lap.

“Life isn’t always going to be kind, but what you do with the hand you’re dealt is key to continued happiness. You’ve been dealt blow after blow over the last couple of years. Between your mom dying, losing your rodeo identity, and getting shot, you’ve lost sight of everything good that surrounds you. You’ve forgotten who you are at your core. Now that you’ve gotten the go-ahead to get back to riding, it’s almost as if you’re being reborn. So, Wade Daniels, with this new lease on life, what are you going to do with it? What type of man do you want to be when you leave here in two weeks?”

Her words floated around me, swirling like a tempest of emotion as I grasped for a response. What type of man did I want to be when I left here? But deep down, I knew. I knew the type of man I was and the type of man I wanted to be.

“I want to be the type of man who looks the devil in the eyes when he’s standing across a field and laughs because I’ve seen hell, I’ve walked through it, and I won’t let myself go there again.”

RAY

Three weeks had crawled by since Wade left for Ember Ridge. No matter what I did to pass the time, my mind always wandered back to him—wondering what he was up to, how his therapy was going, and if he missed me.

I wasn’t generally one for self-doubt, but since our situation was so new when he left, I wondered what things would be like when he got back. Would he still want to be together, or would he want to go back to being just friends? Could we realistically go back to being just friends?

After knowing what it felt like to be wrapped in his arms, have his lips on mine, and feel the connection of our bodies when we fell into bed, I doubted we could go back to the way things were before he left.

Have faith. He’s going to come back the same man, just a little less grumpy.

I repeated the same mantra anytime those self-deprecating thoughts started creeping in, threatening to take hold and cast a consistent shadow of doubt over everything. This was the longest we had ever gone without talking, and like an addict, I was itching to hear the sound of his voice.

Keeping myself busy had been key, and this day was no different. It was the twins’ and Charlie’s birthday. It was also the first anniversary of Charlie’s kidnapping and, subsequently, the anniversary of Wade getting shot.

A large part of me wondered if he was celebrating or if he was spending the day hunkered down, thinking of all the things he had lost. Selfishly, I wanted him with us, celebrating another year around the sun, especially since this was the big 3-0 for him and Max.

Stella insisted on keeping things low-key this year, since Wade wasn’t there to celebrate. We were just having a small dinner with the family at the big house.

Charlie was still too young to comprehend the concept of a large birthday party, so we just got her a cupcake and planned to sing Happy Birthday and open gifts.

As I stood on the porch of the big house, the ranch felt quiet. It was as if the land knew there was a piece missing, and it was biding its time like the rest of us until that last puzzle piece was back in place. There was no breeze, no snickering of horses, no buzz of insects. It was just silent. Every facet of the ranch and its inhabitants felt the weight of Wade’s missing presence.

Securing Charlie’s present under my arm, I knocked, pushing open the large front door into the foyer. The silence even stretched through the house, shrouding everything in an uncomfortable haze of grief.

Brushing off the prickling sensation of unease, I made my way into the large family room, looking for where everyone was gathered, hoping that seeing Charlie enjoy her birthday would help with the melancholy feeling blanketing the day.

Stella and Max were cuddled together on the sofa, staring at the baby monitor where I assumed Charlie slept. I couldn’t imagine the restlessness they were feeling, knowing that this time last year, their world was upended and their lives forever changed.

Although it ended in happiness for them, the ever-present trauma would shroud this day like a low-hanging cloud, reminding them how everything could have ended so differently; for some, it did.

“Hey, guys,” I whispered, setting the gift down on the fireplace hearth where the rest were stacked.

“Hey,” Stella whispered back, angling her eyes toward me in greeting but not taking them off the monitor for longer than a second.

“How long has she been asleep?” I asked, sitting on the floor at their feet, laying my head gently on Stella’s thigh. She reached her hand down, and I met her grasp, entwining our fingers in a gesture of solidarity. I could feel the slight tremor in her hand as I lightly squeezed three times.

“About an hour and a half. We wanted to sit in the room with her, but our therapist suggested sitting in a neutral space with the monitor instead.”

Max and Stella went through intense therapy after Charlie’s kidnapping. They still attended sessions once a week, even a year after the incident, and I was so proud of them for sticking with it.

It made me think about where Wade would be a year from now. Would he still attend therapy, or would he think he’d been cured and move on? Hopefully, that was a discussion he’d have with his therapist, and he wouldn’t be too stubborn to take their advice.

I sensed Stella’s body relax as Charlie stirred on the monitor. I could hear her babbling to herself, singing something that sounded like a gibberish version of Jingle Bells.

No matter what, that child always brought a smile to my face and joy to my heart. She was unfiltered positivity wrapped up in a tiny body.

I scooted out of Stella’s way so she could stand. She moved around me, giving Max a quick kiss before padding down the hallway to retrieve the birthday girl. I gave Max’s knee a soft squeeze, and he smiled gently down at me.