Chapter 33 #2
First, your father would be so proud of the woman you've become.
Miguel always said you had more heart than anyone had a right to, and he was right.
You fight for people who can't fight for themselves.
You run toward danger when everyone else is running away.
That's not just courage, kiddo — that's love in action.
"Kiddo," I whispered aloud, my voice breaking on the word. He'd called me that since I was a rookie, even when I'd grown into my lieutenant's bars.
But more than that, I'm proud of you for something your father never got to see.
I see you with that nurse — Jimmy — and it makes my heart glad.
For the first time since your father died, I see you letting someone in.
I see you choosing love over fear. That takes more courage than running into any burning building, kiddo.
I had to stop reading. My hands were shaking so badly I couldn't hold the paper steady, and tears were falling fast enough to threaten the ink.
This was so much worse than if he'd been disappointed in me.
He'd been proud of me for letting Jimmy in, proud of me for being vulnerable, proud of me for choosing love.
And I'd destroyed it all.
I know you're scared. Lord knows this job will break your heart if you let it. But you can't love people from behind a wall, Izzy. You can't live a full life if you're too afraid to let people in. I've watched you with Jimmy, and I've never seen you happier. Don't let fear cost you that.
I was sobbing now, ugly, gut-wrenching sobs that seemed to come from somewhere deeper than my chest. The letter was getting wet from my tears, the ink starting to smudge, but I couldn't stop.
Your crew doesn't need a commander, Izzy.
They need a leader. There's a difference.
And that young man loves you — I can see it in the way he looks at you, the way he takes extra care when he's treating me because he knows what I mean to you.
Don't throw that away because you're afraid of being vulnerable.
Love isn't a weakness, kiddo. It's the only thing that makes any of this worthwhile.
Your father once told me that the strongest steel is forged in the hottest fire, but even the strongest steel has to cool down to be useful. You've been through the fire, Izzy. You've been tested and proven. Now let yourself cool down. Let yourself be human.
I know you think you have to be perfect, but perfection is just another word for fear. The people who love you don't need you to be perfect. They need you to be real.
Take care of yourself, kiddo. Take care of your crew. And for God's sake, hold onto that love you found. Life's too short to do anything else.
All my love, Cap
P.S. — Your father always said you were stubborn as a mule. He meant it as a compliment. But even mules know when to stop kicking.
The letter fell from my hands as I doubled over, the grief making me claw at the air, like it was a physical thing.
I slid off my chair onto the kitchen floor, curling into myself, my knees pulled up to my chest. The sound that came out of me wasn't crying — it was something primal and raw, the kind of wailing that came from the deepest part of the soul.
I wasn't just crying for Cap anymore. I was crying for everything — for my father, for the promotion I'd lost, for the woman I used to be before I'd built these walls around my heart.
But mostly, I was crying for Jimmy. For the way I'd looked at him that day in the parking lot, like he was a stranger who'd betrayed me instead of the man who'd loved me enough to fight for me.
For the way his face had crumpled when I'd told him to stay away from me.
For the way I'd thrown away the best thing that had ever happened to me because I was too afraid to let him in.
I lay there on my kitchen floor for what felt like hours, Cap's letter clutched against my chest, letting myself fall apart completely.
The walls I'd built so carefully, the armor I'd wrapped around my heart — it all crumbled at once, leaving me raw and exposed and more vulnerable than I'd ever been.
But for the first time in weeks, I could breathe.
For the first time since Cap died, I felt like myself again.
And I knew what I had to do.
Two days later, I was sitting on my couch, Cap's letter spread out on my coffee table, reading it for the dozenth time.
I'd called in sick to work — the first time I'd ever used a sick day for something that wasn't physical.
But I needed time to think, to process everything that had broken loose inside me.
I'd picked up my phone to call Jimmy at least fifty times, but I couldn't make myself dial the number. What was I supposed to say? Sorry I said you destroyed my career prospects and told you to stay away from me when all you did was love me?
My phone had been buzzing all morning with texts from my crew, checking on me. Even they were worried about the ice queen taking a sick day.
Thompson
L.T., you okay? Need anything?
Martinez
Feel better soon. Station's not the same without you.
Benny
Rest up, kiddo. We'll hold down the fort.
Kiddo. Even Benny was using Cap's word for me now.
I was staring at Jimmy's contact information, trying to work up the courage to call, when my phone rang. For a wild moment, I thought it might be him, that maybe he'd felt the same pull I'd been feeling for days.
But it was my mother's name on the screen.
"Mija," Carmen said, her voice soft with sympathy. I could hear the maternal concern that had been missing from our relationship for years. "I'm so sorry, baby. I know how much he meant to you."
The kindness in her voice almost undid me all over again. "Thanks, Mom."
"How are you holding up?"
It was such a simple question, but it broke something loose inside me. "I'm not," I said, my voice cracking. "I'm really not okay."
"Oh, sweetheart. Do you want me to come up there? I could drive up today — "
"I don't know." I was crying again, which seemed to be my default state lately. "Everything's falling apart, Mom. My career, my personal life... I don't know what I'm doing anymore."
There was a pause, and when Carmen spoke again, her voice carried a gentle but unmistakable note of satisfaction. "Maybe this is a sign, mija."
The words hit me like cold water. "What?"
"I mean, maybe this is the universe telling you it's time to come home. Like we talked about, you could go back to school, get your nursing degree. David's connections at Metro General are still there — "
"Mom." My voice was flat.
"I'm just saying, you've proven yourself. You've shown everyone how strong you are. But maybe it's time to choose something safer. Something that won't put you through this kind of pain."
The disappointment was crushing. Even my own mother couldn't see me as anything but a woman who needed to be rescued from her own choices.
"You think I should quit," I said.
"I think you should consider your options. You're still young, mija. You could have a family, a normal life — "
"With someone like David, you mean. Someone safe."
"There's nothing wrong with safe, Izzy. Look what this job has cost you already. Your father, Captain O'Sullivan, and now this whole mess with that nurse... How much more can you take?"
I closed my eyes, feeling more alone than I ever had in my life. "I have to go, Mom."
"Izzy, wait — "
I hung up and threw my phone across the room, watching it skitter across the hardwood floor. Even my own mother thought I should give up, should choose security over passion, should settle for a smaller life because the big one was too scary.
I picked up Cap's letter again, my vision blurring with fresh tears.
Love isn't a weakness, kiddo. It's the only thing that makes any of this worthwhile.
I was still sitting there, holding the letter and feeling more isolated than I'd ever felt in my life, when my phone rang again. I'd retrieved it from where it had slid under my coffee table, expecting another call from my mother.
But it wasn't Carmen's name on the screen.
It was Jimmy's.
My heart stopped. For a moment, I just stared at the phone, afraid that if I moved, the call would disappear like a mirage.
Then, with shaking hands, I answered.
"Jimmy?"
"Izzy." His voice was rough, uncertain. "I know I don't deserve it, but... can we talk?"
I looked down at Cap's letter, at his final words about not letting pride cost me the best thing that had ever happened to me.
"Where?" I said.