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“I know you love to be the hero, Nate. I know you take great pride in your work and ensuring everyone is okay. But you aren’t God. You can’t save everyone. You are simply one man, and you can’t possibly think that you will save everyone in every disaster. It’s not humanly possible.”
These were all words that I had said to myself. But for some reason coming from her, they seemed to hold more weight. I was able to receive them with the kind of grace they required.
“You are a brilliant firefighter. I know that wherever you are on a call, those who need you are so blessed to have you there. You pour your all into your work, and I can see your love and passion. But don’t place these extremely high standards on yourself. Allow yourself some grace.”
She brought our intertwined fingers together and kissed every knuckle. When she was done, she pressed my hand into the center of her chest, where I could feel her heart's gentle, steady beating.
“I’m sorry about Becca and her mom. How is she doing now?”
“She will be in observation for the next three days and then leave with her grandmother.”
“Is there anything that I can do for her? Maybe we can set up a Go Fund Me for them to help pay off the funeral.” There were moments when this girl wowed me, and this was one of them. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
“It’s just that you don’t even know her but are willing to do a fundraiser for her.”
“You don’t know her, but here you are, grieving her loss with her. Compassion and empathy are innate human attributes that we often need to tap into. I’m only doing what any compassionate and empathetic person would for a small needy child.”
I stared at her, completely mind-blown.
Not only was she sexy with her toned runner legs and petite body. But the woman’s heart was what shined through the most. I would even go as far as to say that it was the most beautiful part of her. It still astounded me how my brother could have ever let her go.
But that didn’t matter. He was her past, and I was very much her present.
I kissed her lips softly, loving the feel of her on me. She tasted sweet, like strawberries and chocolate. When I pulled away, she had that bright megawatt smile that always managed to thaw out the ice from my heart.
“Tell me something real,” she whispered.
This had become a kind of game we liked to play with one another. Every day one of us would ask this question, and the other would answer. It was mostly me because I wouldn't say I liked to open up to people. But I found that as the days passed, I was becoming more accustomed to revealing more and more of myself to Amelia. There was still one issue of the accident that I was yet to say anything about. My excuse was that the time wasn’t right. But there would be no right time to tell her I was there the day she lost her mom because I had lost my mother too.
I resented her for it. Well, I had before now.
Those feelings of anger, guilt, and self-hatred had morphed into this poisonous rage I had attached to her. It had been unfair for me to do so. But in my head, it had been like a coping mechanism almost. I needed someone to hate. Since the woman who had driven her mother's car was dead, she was the only one I could attach my anger to.
Her hand cupped my cheek. “Hey, where did you go?”
I blinked away the past that threatened to spill over to this tender moment.
“Nowhere.” I plastered a smile onto my face. “Hmm, let’s see. Something real about myself….”
She sat beside me, silently waiting for me to speak. She played with my fingers absently as I tried to decide what side of me I would show here today. Up until this point, it had all been surface-level stuff. I never went too deep while she often revealed things that taught me more about her soul and the things that made it glow brighter.
I wanted her to know me. I wanted her to see me in ways no one had ever seen me.
“I have a journal,” I confessed.
I had never told anyone about my journal. It was my best-kept secret.
“A journal?” She seemed shocked, which was expected, given how I carried myself. “Like one for workouts or an actual journal for your feelings.”
“Yes, sweetheart.” I tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “A journal for feelings. I got it after my last tour of Syria. The therapist said that it could help with my PTSD.”
The smile that had been playing on her lips faltered. Instant regret washed over her face. “I’m sorry I didn’t mean to be insensitive.”
“No, you weren’t. Don’t worry.” I stared at our intertwined hands. “I thought it was stupid when he gave it to me. I wasn’t a write-my-feelings-down kind of guy. But after I tried it a few times when I was having trouble acclimating back to regular society, it helped. I could put my jumbled thoughts down and make sense of them. After a while, the damn thing became a lifeline for me. Now I write in it every day. Even if it’s something stupid like I ate a doughnut today.”
“You hate doughnuts.” She made a face.
“Not all of them. I like the one from Sally’s.”
