Chapter 25
HARLAN - DIFFERENT KINDS OF FIRE
The clinic smelled like cheap coffee and lavender disinfectant.
A strange combination, but not unpleasant.
Comforting, in a way I hadn’t expected. Summer’s cling had finally started to loosen.
The air outside carried the faintest hint of coolness at night, and the pecan trees along Main Street had begun to give up the first copper-tipped leaves.
Remi was already at the front desk when I walked in, leaning over a printout, reading glasses sliding down her nose like she’d forgotten she needed them.
She wore a gray sweater that swallowed her shoulders and leggings that had clearly survived more than a few twelve-hour shifts.
Hair piled high, tendrils loose from humidity.
And still, she looked steady. Composed. Like a force of nature disguised as a woman who colour-coded her binders and refused to say no to anyone who asked for help.
She glanced up. “Let me guess. You’re here to check up on me?”
“No,” I said, then paused. “Yes. And also, the fundraiser follow-up.”
Remi pointed toward the whiteboard behind her, covered in chaotic scrawl.
“I already started a list.”
I squinted. “That’s a list?”
“It’s a system.”
“It looks like a murder wall.”
She grinned. “You love it.”
I walked around the counter, leaning against the edge, arms crossed. “You know you didn’t have to organize a second fundraiser before the first one’s even tallied.”
“I didn’t have to, and it's been months...” she murmured. “But momentum matters. You want to repair a broken relationship with the public? You can’t just show up once in a cowboy hat and think you’ve solved civic mistrust.”
“I wore a tie, too.”
“You wore it under the cowboy hat, Chief. That’s not as impressive as you think it is.”
I chuckled despite myself. “You’re ruthless.”
“I’m efficient.”
“You’re both.”
“Besides,” she added, tapping the board, “this one will be for the clinic. We can show a united front.”
Her voice softened, almost against her will. It was a glimpse of the weight she carried, the way she always turned pain into motion.
I watched her for a beat. “You ever take a break?”
She didn’t answer right away. Just kept typing, fingers fast, jaw set.
“I’m serious,” I pressed.
Remi sighed and pushed her glasses to her head. “I’ll rest when things stop falling apart.”
“That’s never going to happen.”
“Exactly.”
There it was again. That gravity she carried, like the ground could open under her feet, and she’d still plant herself like a tree, telling everyone else to climb up and hang on.
“Remi,” I said, softer this time. “You know you’re allowed to breathe, right? To let someone else carry it for a while. To live a life for you.”
Her jaw twitched. “You sound like Jack.”
I tilted my head. “Is that a bad thing?”
“No,” she said quickly. Then, quieter: “But it’s complicated.”
“How so?”
She closed her laptop with a quiet click, finally lifting her gaze to me.
“You ever try to do the right thing for someone you care about, no matter what it costs you?”
I swallowed. “Yes.”
Remi nodded, like that made her feel less alone. Then, quietly, “I told him to take the job in the city.”
“I know,” I said.
She blinked. “Ava?”
“Jack.”
Remi exhaled, leaning back in her chair. “Of course.”
“You know he’d stay if you asked him.”
“That’s exactly why I won’t.”
I let the silence hang. Outside, the wind picked up, scattering the first fallen leaves against the clinic window.
“Why push him away if you don’t want him to go?” I asked finally.
She didn’t answer at first. Just stared at the wall, like behind the paint was some version of herself she hadn’t spoken to in years.
“Because I’ve seen what happens when you ask someone to stay and they do it out of obligation,” she said. “It poisons everything.”
“Sounds like you’re protecting him.”
“And maybe a little of me, too.”
I studied her, then nodded. “You don’t have to explain it to me, Kiddo. But you should know… Jack’s not walking away because he wants to. He’s walking because he doesn’t know if he still matters to you.”
That landed. I saw it, the flicker, the recoil.
Her voice sharpened. “You want to ask me something, ask.”
I didn’t flinch. “Are you still in love with him?”
Silence stretched. Then, finally: “He’s probably the best thing that’s ever happened to me. But I don’t know if that’s enough. What if my bar is so low that someone saying they’ll stay is the best I’ve ever had?”
I didn’t push. Didn’t have to. She kept going, softer now, like she couldn’t stop herself.
“Some days I think I should hold on to him with everything I’ve got because he’s a good man.
And then other days…” She swallowed. “Other days, a part of me still wonders about happily ever after.
About a love that doesn't leave you feeling like this. About a man who can see me at my absolute worst and still look at me like I am the only one for him.”
We let it sit. The clock ticked on the wall. Somewhere down the hall, a printer hummed and clicked.
Then she pivoted, fast as she always did when the air got too heavy. “How are you and Ava?”
I blinked at the sudden shift. “We are... good.” I smiled, unsure of why she was asking me and not Ava.
“She let you in?”
“A little bit day by day,” I answered honestly.
“She’s not built for halfway, Chief. If you’re going to hurt her...”
“I’m not,” I said quickly.
“Good,” she replied. Her eyes glinted. “Because if you do, you won’t have to deal with her rage first. You’ll have to deal with mine.”
I chuckled. “You threatening me, Carter?”
She smiled sweetly. “I’m promising you.”
I nodded once. “Fair enough.”
She stood, gathering her things into a leather satchel that looked like it had already lived three lives. At the doorway, she paused, turning back to me.
“You’re not as old-school as you pretend to be,” she said.
“Is that a compliment?”
She shrugged. “Not sure yet. But you’re growing on me.”
And then she was gone, leaving me in the soft hum of the clinic. The smell of lavender disinfectant and bitter coffee lingered.
Two girls from the same storm, I thought. One building walls, one burning bridges. Both made of fire.
And me, standing amongst them, hoping like hell I wouldn’t be the one to burn.