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“In here!” I called and looked to Kal. “Can we go home now?”
He thought for a moment and then nodded. “I guess so.”
“Thatta boy. You’re my hero.”
“Me? I thought only firefighters like Uncle Ash could be heroes.”
The tears threatened again but I forced them back. “They are. He is. But brave little boys can be too. One hundred percent.”
Brave little boys who lose everything and keep going.
Kal smiled and wiped his nose. “I like that.”
He crawled out from under the porch, and I followed. Asher was waiting for us, drenched and haggard, relief flooding his expression and tears filling his eyes. He dropped to his knees, head bowed, and the flashlight fell from his hands to splat in the mud. Kal rushed to him, threw his little arms around his neck. Asher wrapped his arms around the boy, both of them clutching one another, both sobbing. Both letting the storm break over them, finally.
I hung back, smiling, though my own eyes streamed watching that sweet little boy and my firefighter, wracked by grief and love at the same time.
Because in the end, they were the same thing.
