Page 52 of Thorns and Ashes
The last few weeks have flown by and dragged all at once, trapping me in motion. For the most part, I’ve been keeping busy with work. We’ve tightened our drills, and I’m feeling really good about probie Mark’s hose management skills now. Everyone surprised me during our forced door and throwing-ladders training. Out of everyone, I didn’t expect Angela and Maria to be the fastest when it comes to getting through doors and using the jaws of life, but when I told them the scenario included two kids and a mother, it looked like the mama bears came out, and they were unstoppable.
I’ve been doing my best to build the team up since the talk with Chief to tone down my growl and bite. I still have my days where I’d rather call it quits, and the overwhelming survivor’s guilt gets to me, but it’s becoming bearable. Some things never really go away. I’m learning to grow around it, how to allow it to become a part of me and accept it so it can’t hold me back. I still can’t sleep for shit, though. That’s where the nightmares live. I wake up covered in cold sweats every night, no matter how good I think I’m doing. Tom keeps checking in on me, making sure I’m doing okay. Not that he believes me when I tell him I’m fine, but at least he cares.
After we all attended a funeral last week to support a close friend, he’s been especially on my case. He knew being there wouldbring up some memories and hasn’t let me go a day without a phone call, or two. Today is my birthday, and I finally caved. Since I have the day off anyway, I agreed that a boat day with Tom, Callie, and some of my crew would be a great way to celebrate it.
I’m throwing the ball with Ellie in the front yard when I feel eyes on me. I barely glance over my shoulder to confirm it’s Tris when Ellie beelines straight for her, almost taking my legs out from under me. The purest, most melodic giggle floats down from the porch and lands heavy in my chest. When I throw her a glare, she fails horribly at hiding her smile behind her coffee mug. She quickly sets the mug aside to give Ellie her morning belly rubs. A ritual that these two have formed, regardless of whether it’s Tris’s day with her or not. We’ve barely seen each other except in passing. What’s that saying? Like two ships passing in the night? Though it feels more like two parents sharing custody of a child at this point.
I climb the stairs and watch as Ellie eats it up. While Tris is distracted with Ellie, I can’t help the way my eyes slowly take her in, like I’m trying to memorize every part of the woman I can never allow myself to have. I’ve tried not to, but she’s under my skin. It’s more than the way her lips form a perfect heart or the way her cheeks turn the most beautiful shade of pink. More than her curves and the way I find myself wondering how they’d fit with mine. It’s how she carries herself with an air of confidence that emphasizes her natural beauty, even when I know it’s not always how she feels. The way she acts like she doesn’t care about anyone or anything, but feeds the robin that still visits every day, and takes the time to make Ellie those biscuits whenever she gets a chance.
Early mornings are becoming my favorite time of day because that’s when she seems to be the most unguarded, the most herself. Her bite is less. The armor she’s worn all these years isn’t set in place. She’s thoughtful, more kind than anyone has given her credit for, and I’ve watched her with her friends at the cafe. She’s loyal tothose she cares about. Protective with a fierceness that makes me wonder if that’s why she’s so selective with who she lets in. A man, a tourist, tried to mess with Rory the other day, and before I could step in, Tris was across the cafe, thorns out and ready. The man left in a hurry, but not before dropping a hundred-dollar tip for causing trouble. That was the day I knew I was in trouble.
It feels wrong. Wrong to want her, wrong to crave her. Not just her body, but her time, her smile. The real smile that is so rarely given, but instead needs to be earned. I think that’s what I treasure most about every one I get. There are still days when her eyes are full of ice. When I inevitably do something to piss her off, she lets me know it.
“Walking up and down those steps. Are your legs tired yet?”
She teases me.
I’m a bigger asshole than I ever gave myself credit for. Feeling this way, acknowledging it only makes me feel worse, like I’m betraying Krystal, so I’ve been doing my best to push it down. Snuff it out and stay busy.
“Thought she was taking you down,” Tris says, standing up and wiping her hands on a pair of sleep shorts that should be illegal to wear in public. That paired with a purple bralette?
I breathe in deeply, holding onto that last straw people talk about like it’s my lifeline.
“I am absolutely sure that would have made your day,” I grumble.
She clicks her tongue softly before speaking. “Maybe.”
She shrugs, then, to my demise, puts her arms above her head and starts to stretch, testing more than just the length of the sheer fabric of her clothing.
I turn around and reach for the banister. My grip tightens, and my teeth grind as I try to fight every nerve in my body from betraying me. It takes everything I have to dampen the way sheignites a fire inside me, sparking a fervor I never imagined would awaken again.
“Don’t you own real clothes?” I rasp, completely exasperated by this woman as I turn around to find her leg up on the opposite banister, finishing a stretch.
“Don’t you?” One corner of her mouth lifts, eyes sharp with challenge.
It’s not until this moment that I realize I’m not wearing a shirt. I’d meant to put it on when I walked outside, but Ellie wanted to play ball, and I dropped it on the chair. Immediately, I reach for the shirt and throw it on, covering up the scars that spread across my chest and over my shoulder. The proof of my failure. The burns that haunt me. They’re always there, reminding me of the hell I walked through.
“Sorry,” I murmur, embarrassed.
“Don’t be,” she says with a strong conviction. “We all have scars, things we wish we could forget or hide.” She pauses, taking a slow sip of her coffee before continuing. “Some of us can’t.”
She tilts her head, eyes flicking to me and then away, like she’s already said more than she meant to. I let her words sink in... She’s right. It’s something that I, of course, realize is true, but being wrapped up in the shame and pain of my own, I hardly consider what others are carrying. It only makes me wonder, what scars is she hiding, what shame does she keep buried, and if maybe one day she’ll share it with me. It strikes me now that it’s something I want. One more piece of her to add to the list. A list that I mentally wish I could ignite and turn to ash.
“Wow,” I mutter, trying to distract myself. “That was pretty deep.”
She smirks, her brow lifting slightly as if I’ve amused her. “Why yes, I’m multifaceted, like a big, sparkly diamond.”
“Yeah, lab-grown,” I tease back before I can stop myself.
Her mouth gapes open, and to my relief, she laughs. “How rude!”
Our laughter settles into a comfortable silence.
“Did you want a cup of coffee?” she asks after I’m not sure how much time has passed.
I check the time on my phone. “No, thanks. I’m actually waiting for Tom and Callie to pick me up for a birthday boat day.”
Her eyes widen. “Oh, I didn’t know. Happy Birthday.”
