10. Blaze
BLAZE
Inever stopped.
The words echoed through me like a detonation.
Sixteen years.
Sixteen years of anger.
Of grief.
Of trying to bury her.
Of convincing myself she chose another life.
Gone.
Not gone.
Worse.
Because now I knew the truth.
She had still loved me, too.
The pain of it nearly split me open where I sat.
Felicity now stood near the window crying silently, one hand covering her mouth like she was trying to hold herself together by force.
And suddenly all I could think was:
She cried over me too.
Jesus Christ.
I pushed a hand through my hair roughly and stood before I even realized I’d moved.
Felicity looked up immediately.
Tears shining in those eyes I’d spent half my damn life trying to forget.
“Hersh…”
Her voice cracked softly on my name.
That was it.
That was the thing that finally broke whatever restraint I had left.
I crossed the room.
Fast.
Not angry.
Never angry at her.
Just needing closer.
Needing real.
Felicity’s breath caught the second I stopped in front of her.
For one second, neither of us moved.
The storm pounded outside the windows now.
Thunder.
Rain.
Wind.
But inside this room?
Only her.
Only us.
“You waited?” I asked quietly.
The question sounded wrecked even to my own ears.
Felicity nodded once.
A tear slipped down her cheek.
“I checked the mailbox every day,” she whispered. “For months.”
God.
Pain punched straight through my chest.
Because I could see it.
Young Felicity.
Hopeful.
Waiting for me.
While I sat thousands of miles away writing letters she never received.
“I thought you forgot me,” she admitted shakily. “Then eventually I thought maybe you found somebody else.”
“No.”
The word came out instantly.
Certain.
Rough.
Absolute.
“There was never anybody else.”
Her face crumpled.
Actually crumpled.
Like hearing that hurt her almost as badly as hearing about the letters hurt me.
“Oh God…”
I reached for her before I could stop myself.
This time she didn’t pull away.
Not even a little.
My hands settled carefully against her arms.
Warm.
Real.
Finally.
The second I touched her, Felicity broke.
Not loudly.
Not dramatically.
Worse.
A shattered breath left her, and suddenly she was crying against my chest like she’d been holding it in for sixteen years.
And that?
That damn near destroyed me.
“Hey,” I whispered immediately, pulling her closer. “Hey, Flick…”
She clutched the front of my shirt with shaking hands.
“I’m sorry,” she cried softly. “I’m so sorry…”
“No.”
I held her tighter automatically.
“You don’t apologize for this.”
“But you thought?—”
“I know what I thought.” My throat burned hard. “None of this was your fault.”
Her shoulders shook harder beneath my hands.
My Lord.
How many times had she cried alone like this?
How many nights had she carried all this pain by herself?
Anger slid hot and vicious through me then.
Not at her.
At her father.
At lost years.
At every damn thing that stole this from us.
Felicity buried her face harder against my chest like she was trying to hide inside me.
And God help me…
I let her.
One hand slid into her hair automatically, holding her carefully while the storm raged outside.
“It hurt so bad,” she whispered brokenly.
Those words nearly brought me to my knees.
Because same.
Same.
I closed my eyes briefly and rested my forehead against the top of her head.
“I know.”
And I did.
Every unanswered letter.
Every birthday.
Every deployment.
Every lonely night wondering if she’d ever loved me at all.
All of it crashed into me standing there holding her.
Felicity finally pulled back just enough to look up at me.
Her cheeks were wet.
Eyes red.
Beautiful enough to ruin me all over again.
“I read every letter,” she whispered.
My chest tightened painfully.
“All of them?”
She nodded.
“More than once. I thought about trying to find you. But then I convinced myself that you had a life without me for sixteen years, and didn’t need me showing up.”
Jesus Christ.
I looked away briefly because emotion hit too hard all at once.
She read them.
Maybe not when I wrote them.
But eventually she knew.
Eventually she knew I loved her.
And somehow that mattered more than it should have.
A sad laugh escaped her suddenly through tears. “You wrote terrible poetry.”
I stared at her.
Then barked out an actual laugh for the first time all night.
Short.
Disbelieving.
Real.
Felicity laughed too, wiping at her face.
“You rhymed forever with together.”
“In my defense, I was twenty.”
“You were emotionally dramatic.”
“I was in love with you.”
The words slipped out naturally.
Too naturally.
Silence filled the room instantly afterward.
Heavy.
Breathing.
Dangerous.
Felicity went still in my arms.
And the terrifying part?
I realized it was still true.
Even now.
Even after everything.
Especially after everything.
Her eyes searched mine slowly.
Like she saw it too.
Thunder cracked outside hard enough to shake the windows.
Neither of us moved.
Then quietly…
almost fearfully…
Felicity whispered:
“Hersh… what do we do now?”