Chapter Fifteen
Aurora
Six weeks passed quickly once life returned to something resembling normal. School consumed most of my weekdays, and lesson planning, grading, and meetings occupied enough of my time that it seemed to disappear before I noticed.
The insurance company finally completed its assessment of my car and several days later the settlement funds appeared in my account, accompanied by enough paperwork to justify the destruction of a small forest. Once everything had been signed and transferred, I no longer had an excuse for delaying the purchase of a replacement vehicle.
Jasper immediately volunteered to help despite my insistence that buying a car was a task I could manage alone.
The discussion lasted less than five minutes because he correctly pointed out that I had spent weeks complaining about the process despite never actually beginning it.
Saturday morning arrived cool and clear. Jasper picked me up shortly after breakfast, and we spent the first half hour arguing about whether researching vehicles constituted a hobby.
According to Jasper, I enjoyed researching anything that involved comparing options and gathering information far too much.
According to me, there was a significant difference between researching interesting topics and spending entire weekends reading reviews written by strangers with strong opinions about fuel efficiency.
The disagreement continued through two dealerships and showed no signs of ending.
By the time we arrived at the third dealership, I had inspected enough vehicles to last a lifetime.
Every salesperson appeared convinced they possessed the perfect solution, and every vehicle seemed remarkably similar once I sat behind the wheel.
Jasper remained patient throughout the process, offering opinions only when asked and occasionally preventing me from dismissing perfectly reasonable options for superficial reasons.
More than once I suspected he was enjoying my frustration considerably more than he admitted.
Jasper’s cough first caught my attention while we were waiting for Janine, the salesperson to locate another vehicle for a test drive.
At first I ignored it because firefighters spent their careers around smoke, dust, and conditions most people avoided whenever possible.
By the time we returned from the test drive and sat reviewing specifications, however, I had noticed it several more times.
That was when I saw the bandage.
Jasper reached across the desk to accept a document, and his sweater sleeve shifted slightly, exposing a dressing wrapped around part of his lower forearm. The injury definitely hadn't been there the last time I'd seen him. I stared at it long enough that he eventually followed my gaze.
"What happened to your arm?"
He glanced down.
"Nothing serious."
The answer immediately guaranteed I would continue asking questions.
"What happened?" I insisted, not caring that Janine was listening.
A smile appeared on Jasper’s face as he briefly glanced at Janine who made her excuses and left us alone.
"We had a structure fire yesterday."
I folded my arms.
"And?"
"A section of damaged ceiling shifted during overhaul."
The explanation sounded entirely too casual.
"And?"
"Some embers came down."
My expression must have changed because his smile faded slightly.
"The glove protected my hand but the sleeve pulled back and I got a minor burn."
I looked at the bandage again.
"A minor burn requiring a fairly substantial dressing?"
"It looks worse than it is."
Before I could continue, Janine returned carrying paperwork and a folder containing the final figures for the vehicle we'd just driven. The interruption ended the discussion, but it didn't stop my thoughts.
While delivery dates, warranty information, and registration details were explained, I found myself paying considerably more attention to Jasper than the conversation taking place across the desk.
Eventually the paperwork reached the point where my signature became necessary.
The sedan we'd chosen offered everything I needed without including dozens of expensive features I would never use, and after one final review of the numbers I signed the purchase agreement.
Delivery was scheduled for the following week, and Janine looked delighted by the outcome.
The process should have left me relieved. Instead, my attention kept returning to Jasper's arm.
The burn itself wasn't serious. Rationally, I understood that. The problem was the injury created an association to when his life had been in serious danger a few weeks earlier and I couldn't seem to stop the reminder.
The drive back to my apartment felt different from the rest of the day. Conversation continued normally enough, but I found myself watching Jasper more closely than usual. Each cough attracted my attention, and each glimpse of the bandage reminded me he was injured.
When we arrived at my apartment, Jasper made coffee and brought it into the living room while I settled onto the couch.
For several minutes we discussed the car, the dealership, and the absurd persistence of salespeople.
Eventually the conversation faded. The silence that followed wasn't uncomfortable, but it felt unfinished.
Jasper noticed first.
"Talk to me."
I studied at the coffee mug in my hands and for several moments I searched for the right words. The problem wasn't explaining what I felt. The problem was admitting it aloud.
"I don't like seeing you hurt."
Jasper's expression softened immediately.
"Aurora."
I shook my head.
"Let me finish."
He nodded.
"When we met, I knew you were a firefighter. I thought I understood the risks involved because everybody is supposed to know them. Firefighters enter burning buildings. They rescue people from dangerous situations. Sometimes they get injured. None of that was a surprise."
I paused briefly before continuing.
"The problem is that now you're not some firefighter. You're my Jasper."
His eyes never left mine.
"The shoulder injury. The surgery. The burn on your hand. The coughing today. Every time something happens, I find myself wondering what will happen next and will you survive."
The words became easier once they started.
"I keep remembering the hospital and waiting outside surgery. Then I remember Rachel and everything you told me about what happened to her. Reasonable, I know your situations aren't the same, but my brain doesn't seem interested in being reasonable."
Jasper leaned forward slightly.
"They aren't the same."
"That's the frustrating part. I know but don’t seem to accept it."
The conversation continued for almost an hour.
Neither of us raised our voices. Neither of us became angry.
The difficulty came from the fact that neither of us possessed an answer capable of fixing the problem.
Jasper understood why I worried. I understood why he couldn't promise absolute safety.
Every explanation eventually returned us to the same place.
"I love my job."
The admission arrived quietly.
"If I walked away from it, I'd resent that decision for the rest of my life."
I lowered my gaze.
"I know you would and I don't want you to walk away."
Jasper remained silent.
"But I don't know how to stop being afraid either and I can’t live with the fear something is going to happen."
The honesty seemed to age both of us slightly.
Eventually Jasper stood and moved toward the window. I watched him stare outside for several moments before turning back toward me. The sadness in his expression proved difficult to ignore because it mirrored exactly how I felt.
"Maybe we need some time."
The suggestion settled heavily between us.
Not forever.
Not a breakup.
Simply space.
Space to think.
Space to decide whether love could outweigh fear.
I hated the idea immediately.
Unfortunately, I couldn't dismiss it.
"Maybe."
The agreement hurt more than I expected.
Jasper crossed the room and sat beside me again.
He kissed me softly before resting his forehead briefly against mine.
Neither of us seemed interested in pretending the decision felt reasonable or fair.
Sometimes two people could love each other completely and still struggle with realities neither had created.
After he left, with no promise of if or when we’d speak again, the apartment felt strangely empty.
The following days proved even worse. I went to work, taught classes, attended meetings, and completed all the responsibilities that normally occupied my attention.
The problem was that every routine eventually reminded me of Jasper.
Books reminded me of our meeting at the bookstore.
Coffee reminded me of our first real conversation at the café.
Even the drive home each afternoon created memories because so much of the previous several months had included Jasper somewhere within them.
By Wednesday evening, I realised I missed him constantly but the admission didn't solve anything.
If anything, it complicated matters further.
Missing someone didn't automatically make concerns disappear.
Loving somebody didn't magically remove risk from their life.
The questions that had started after seeing the burn remained unanswered.
Unfortunately, so did the questions created by his absence.
Thursday afternoon I found myself standing outside Firehouse 99.
The decision hadn't been planned. I finished work, got into my car, and somehow ended up there.
Fortunately Rescue 3 was nowhere to be seen but several firefighters moved in and out of the building carrying equipment, paperwork, and coffee cups.
The activity looked remarkably ordinary despite the nature of their profession.
For several moments I remained where I was before finally forcing myself inside.
A firefighter seated near the front looked up.
"Can I help you?"
I nodded.
"I was hoping to speak with Captain Cole."
Recognition appeared immediately.
"Aurora?"
The fact he knew my name should probably have surprised me.
It didn't.
“I’m Donny Turner, I’ll fetch Cap for you.”
We shook hands and he hurried away. A few minutes later, the captain emerged from an office and introduced himself with calm professionalism.
After introductions and a brief conversation, he suggested a nearby café where we could talk without interruptions.
Ten minutes later we sat across from each other with coffee neither of us appeared particularly interested in drinking.
Cole listened while I explained everything:
The burn.
The coughing.
The surgery.
The fear.
The decision to spend time apart.
Most importantly, he listened without attempting to interrupt or immediately solve the problem. When I finally finished, he sat quietly for a moment before speaking.
"You know Jasper loves his job."
I nodded.
"I do and I’d never ask him to walk away but I need to know how I can live with knowing when he leaves one morning, he may never come back."
"You know he isn't reckless."
Another nod followed.
Cole leaned back slightly.
"Most people assume firefighters spend their careers charging into burning buildings without thinking. The reality is considerably less dramatic. We train constantly. We follow procedures. We make decisions based on information and experience. Nobody at Firehouse 99 wants to get hurt."
The explanation sounded obvious. Even so, I listened carefully.
"Unfortunately, no matter how careful we are, we still get injured sometimes."
His gaze remained steady.
"That's reality."
I wrapped both hands around my coffee cup.
"That's the part I can't stop thinking about."
Cole nodded.
"I understand it’s difficult."
For the next hour he told stories.
Not speeches.
Not lectures.
Stories.
He spoke about firefighters injured on the job who returned years later to retire healthy.
He spoke about a firefighter who survived thirty years in the department only to lose his life to cancer after retirement.
He spoke about another who left the service completely, started a business, and was killed by a distracted driver six months later.
The point gradually became impossible to ignore.
Risk existed everywhere.
Firefighting carried dangers.
So did everything else in life.
Eventually I told him exactly what had been bothering me.
"What if I lose him?"
Cole studied me for a moment.
The answer arrived quietly.
"I can’t guarantee you won’t."
The honesty startled me. Not because it was cruel, because it wasn't.
He held my gaze.
"You could lose him at any time."
The café seemed unusually quiet. Then Cole continued.
"You could also lose him if he quit tomorrow and never stepped inside another fire station."
I stared at him.
"Nobody gets guarantees, Aurora."
The conversation continued for another half hour.
By the time we finally stood to leave, my fears hadn't disappeared.
I wasn't sure they ever would. What had changed was my understanding of them.
The problem had never really been Jasper's profession.
The problem was that loving someone meant accepting the possibility of loss, regardless of how they earned a living.
“Give him a chance, Aurora. He loves you and I never thought he’d be able to love anyone after Rachel.”
“I love him too. Thank you,” I murmured.
As I drove home, I found myself thinking less about burns, smoke, and fire stations.
Instead, I thought about Jasper. I thought about the bookstore, the hospital, the countless conversations, and every reason I’d fallen in love with him.
For the first time since seeing the bandage on his hand, I began to wonder whether I’d been asking the wrong question all along.