Page 17 of Melting for the Firefighter
She makes a soft sound that might be a laugh.
The house is dark and cool. I take her down the hall.
The guest room is buried beneath camping gear and boxes I never unpacked, so I carry her into my bedroom.
I set her on the mattress and pull back the blanket.
“Is this your bed?”
“It is.”
“Where will you sleep?”
“Couch.”
“Lance, I can take the couch.”
“No.”
I look at the hospital tape on her arm and the bandage on her hand.
“Tonight, the bed is yours.”
She climbs under the blanket. Honey-blonde curls spread across my pillow.
I have imagined her in my bed.
Those thoughts never included hospital tape on her arm or a bandage on her hand.
They never included the fear still shadowing her eyes.
I turn to leave.
Her fingers close around my wrist.
“Could you stay until I fall asleep?”
The question strips me clean.
“I’m not going anywhere.”
I sit in the chair beside the bed.
Cora keeps hold of me.
Her breathing evens out after a few minutes.
I watch her sleep while dawn begins to gray the windows.
My house has always been quiet.
Tonight, with Cora breathing in my bed and her flower journal on the nightstand, it feels different.
It feels like a home.
Chapter 3
Cora
