Hunter
Dr. Middleton closes the folder on his desk and leans back in his chair, looking at me with that steady, unflinching gaze I’ve come to respect.
I sit up straighter, not sure I heard him right. “Cleared?”
He nods. “You’ve done the work. Consistently.
AA attendance is solid. You’ve been honest in here, even when it was ugly.
Your sleep is better. The guilt around Robby’s death has shifted from self-blame to acceptance of what actually happened.
You’re in a stable enough mental state to return to active duty.
I’ll send the recommendation to the judge and your department today. ”
I let out a slow breath, hands gripping my knees. “I… didn’t think I’d get here this fast.”
“You did the work,” he says simply.
For a moment, I just sit there, the reality sinking in. I can go back. I can put the uniform on again. I can be useful. The thought feels good.
But there’s a quiet ache underneath it.
Dr. Middleton studies me. “You’re thinking about Charlie.”
I don’t bother denying it. “We haven’t spoken since the gallery opening. Three weeks. I’ve respected the space, but…it still feels unfinished.”
He nods, not surprised. “You’ve made progress on the possessiveness and the fear of abandonment. But love doesn’t disappear just because you’re doing better. It’s okay to still feel it. The question is whether you’re healthy enough to carry it without letting it control you.”
I think about that for a long moment.
“I want to call him,” I say finally. “Maybe tell him I am cleared to go back to work.”
Dr. Middleton gives me a small, approving nod. “That sounds like a healthy step. But if he’s moved on, how will that impact you?”
I let out a slow breath.
“They do say if you love someone, let them go. And I did that. Maybe this is the part where he can come back… or maybe he won’t. Either way, I need to be okay with whatever happens.”
Dr. Middleton studies me for a moment, then gives a single, firm nod.
“That’s a good answer. Just don’t tie your sobriety or your worth to his response.”
“I won’t.”
The rest of the session goes by in a blur of practical talk. When the hour is up, I feel drained but clear.
He shakes my hand at the door. “You’re doing good work,” he says. “Keep it up. I’ll see you next week.”
I leave his office feeling like the old me. The guy I used to be before things went toxic with Robby. Although, slightly different, too. I guess it would be hard to go back to that guy completely, and I wouldn’t want to.
I stop at the corner near the park, pull out my phone, and find Charlie’s name in my contacts. My thumb hovers over his name for a long time.
Then I hit call.
It rings. Once. Twice. Three times.
I almost hang up, heart hammering, when he picks up.
“...Hunter?”
His voice hits me like a warm wave—soft, surprised, a little guarded. I close my eyes for a second, leaning against the lamppost.
“Charlie, hey…”
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah… really good, actually.” I swallow, trying to keep my voice steady. “I just thought I’d call and see if you wanted to get lunch or dinner or something. I mean, if you’re not busy.”
There’s a pause on the other end. Not long, but long enough for my stomach to twist.
“I’d like that,” he says finally, and I can hear the small smile in his voice. “I’m free tomorrow night, if that works?”
Relief floods through me so fast my knees feel weak.
“Tomorrow night is perfect,” I say, probably too quickly. “There’s that Thai place you like. Or…anywhere you want. I’m good with whatever.”
He laughs softly—a quiet, familiar sound that still makes my chest ache. “Thai sounds good. Seven?”
“Seven,” I repeat, committing it to memory like it’s the most important thing I’ve ever heard. “I’ll see you then.”
“Okay,” he says. “I’m… I’m glad you called.”
“Me too.”
We linger for a second, neither of us quite ready to hang up, then he says goodbye and the line goes quiet.
I stand there on the corner, staring at my phone like it’s a miracle. He said yes. Tomorrow night I’ll get to sit across from him and hear how his life has been. A nervous excitement fills me, and I shove the phone into my jacket pocket, inhaling the cool late fall air.
I probably won’t sleep tonight, but that’s okay. Because at least my thoughts will be on Charlie and not all of the things that have held me down for so long.
Tomorrow I get to see him.
I don’t know what will happen. He might want to stay friends. He might not want anything at all. And I have to be okay with both of those things, even if I want him in my life as my partner. Not because I need someone to fill a void, but because I love him. And I’m never going to stop.
The next morning, I’m up before the sun, the nervous energy from last night still buzzing under my skin. I text Ramirez on a whim, asking if he’s free for an early coffee. He replies almost immediately.
Hell yeah. Meet you at the usual spot in 20.
The “usual spot” is a little hole-in-the-wall diner near the old firehouse.
We used to grab breakfast here after night shifts.
And now we meet up to chat every week. He’s really cemented himself as someone I can call a friend over the last few months.
And we keep in touch almost daily through text.
It doesn’t even feel like he’s checking up on me anymore.
Ramirez is already in a booth when I walk in, two black coffees waiting on the table. He grins when he sees me.
“Hey, man. You get a release to come back to work yet?” he asks as I slide into the seat across from him.
“I did. Sooner than I expected, to be honest.”
“It’ll be good to have you back.”
I take a sip of my coffee, the bitterness grounding me. “It’ll be good to be back. How’s Becky and the kids?”
“She’s doing good, asking for you to come to dinner again,” he says with a proud little laugh.
“Mia's been obsessed with soccer since she joined the team. Keeps kicking the ball into the neighbor’s yard when no one can go out to kick the ball around with her. Carlos is still all about dinosaurs this month, so not much has changed with him in the last week. Although, now I’ve got a plastic T-Rex in my locker at the station because he insisted I take it to work. ”
I smile, genuinely. “Sounds chaotic.”
“It is. But the good kind.” He looks at me for a moment, studying me the way only someone who’s dragged you out of burning buildings can. “You look good today, Hunter. Clearer. How’s the head doing?”
I turn the mug in my hands. “Still loud sometimes. But quieter the last couple of weeks. Therapy’s helping. AA too. My sponsor’s a hard ass, but he calls me every night. Keeps me honest.”
Ramirez nods slowly, approval in his eyes. “Proud of you, man. Real proud. We were all worried for a while.”
It feels weird to have him tell me he’s proud that I stopped drinking and I’m taking care of myself, so I shrug. “One day at a time, right?”
“Yeah,” he says, leaning back in the booth. “One day at a time. But you’re doing it. That’s more than a lot of us can say when shit gets heavy.”
We sit in comfortable silence for a minute, the clatter of plates and low morning chatter filling the diner. It feels good—normal in a way I haven’t had in a long time. Ramirez has always been solid, the kind of guy who shows up without making a big deal about it.
Eventually, he grins again, changing the subject. “So… this dinner tonight with the artist kid. You nervous?”
“Terrified,” I admit with a short laugh. “I haven’t seen him since the gallery opening. I don’t want to fuck it up again. I’m just… trying to show him I’m different now. That I’m actually trying.”
He studies me for a second, then nods slowly, the kind of nod that says he gets it without needing all the details.
“That’s good, man. Real good. Sounds like you’re going in with the right mindset this time.” He takes a sip of his coffee, then grins a little. “Just remember—don’t overthink it. Show up as you are now. The rest will figure itself out.”
I let out a breath. “Yeah. That’s the plan.”
We finish our coffee and talk about lighter things: station gossip, how the new rookies are terrified of Captain, how Ramirez’s wife is making him drink kale smoothies now. It feels easy. Comfortable. Like I’m slowly getting pieces of my old life back, only better. Cleaner.
When we step outside, the early morning light is soft and golden. He claps me on the shoulder, firm and brotherly.
“Text me after dinner. I want to know how it goes. And Hunter—you’ve got this. I mean it.”
“Thanks, man. Really.”
He heads toward the firehouse, and I start walking the other way, hands in my pockets, the cool fall air clearing my head. Leaves crunch under my boots with every step.
Tonight I get to see Charlie.
Not as the broken, desperate version of me who showed up drunk at his door. Not as the guy who pinned him down and triggered him.
Just… me. The version that’s been showing up to therapy, to meetings, to life.
I’m nervous as hell.
I pull out my phone and check the time. Still hours until seven.
I smile to myself and keep walking. Nothing can bring me down today.