Page 63 of Melting for the Firefighter
I understand all of it.
I still need him to say more.
“What happens when Grandma’s Garden reopens?” I ask. “What happens when I have money and a home and I don’t need you to carry me?”
“I’ll be glad you’re safe.”
My heart cracks quietly.
“Do you want me to stay with you?”
His eyes move toward the booth behind me.
Toward the flowers, the donation jar, and the promise of a life I can rebuild without him.
The answer should be easy.
His silence gives me one anyway.
“Cora, I want you to have choices.”
“I’m making one.”
“You almost died. Everything moved fast.”
“You just told an entire street that you love me.”
“I do.”
“Then ask me to stay.”
His hand flexes at his side.
He cannot say it.
The old humiliation rises before I can stop it.
A school hallway filled with laughter.
My ex telling everyone I was useful until someone prettier came along.
My mother saying she loves me seconds before asking for money.
Always waiting for someone to choose me.
Always trying to become necessary enough that they cannot leave.
I refuse to live there again.
“I believe you would run into every fire for me,” I say. “I know you would carry me out, rebuild every wall, and stand between me and anything that might hurt.”
Pain moves across his face.
I force myself to continue.
“But I need to know whether you will choose me when there is nothing left to save.”
“Cora.”
