Page 32 of Melting for the Firefighter
She deserves better from me.
“My father.”
Her eyes lift to mine.
“Cigarettes,” I say. “After my mother died, he drank. Some nights, he wanted someone else to hurt.”
Her face folds with pain that belongs to me.
I regret telling her for half a second.
Then her thumb circles the edge of the scar.
There is no disgust in her expression.
No pity.
Only care.
“How old were you?”
“Nine when the fire happened. The burns started the next year.”
Her touch moves to another mark.
“Is that why you became a firefighter?”
“Couldn’t save her.”
The words scrape on the way out.
“You were a child.”
“I heard her calling.” My jaw locks. “I wasn’t strong enough to reach her.”
Cora slides from the counter.
Then her arms wrap around me.
I freeze.
No one touches the worst parts of me and stays.
Her cheek presses over my heart.
I close my arms around her.
She fits against me too well.
Like my body has been waiting for hers and is pissed it took this long.
“I’m sorry,” she whispers.
I press my face into her hair.
“Long time ago.”
“It still matters.”
