Chapter 15 #2
Garrett appeared at odd hours, silent and steady, fixing things around the apartment that didn't need fixing. Rodriguez stopped by with Maria, who filled my freezer with enough food to last a month and hugged me carefully, mindful of the bruises.
"You're family," she said. "Both of you. She'll come back."
I wanted to believe her.
I hadn't stopped trying to reach Ava. Calls went to voicemail. Texts went unanswered. I'd even tried calling her father's firm.
“Rothwell & Associates,” the receptionist had answered. “How may I direct your call?”
"I'm trying to reach Ava Rothwell."
A pause. The sound of typing.
"I'm sorry, sir. Ms. Rothwell has asked that we not put through calls from this number."
The words landed like a blow.
"Can you just tell her—tell her Brian called. Tell her I'm not giving up."
"I'll pass along the message, sir."
She wouldn't. I knew she wouldn't. But I'd said it anyway, because saying it was the only thing I could do.
The following week, when I was well enough to move without flinching, I went to the hospital.
I knew she was supposed to be on shift—I still had access to her calendar, the one she'd shared with me months ago, so we could coordinate our schedules. She should have been there.
Shane tried to talk me out of it. "You're supposed to be resting. The bruising—"
"I don't care about the bruising."
He drove me anyway. Didn't argue, didn't push. Just helped me out of the car and walked beside me through the ambulance bay doors, ready to catch me if I stumbled.
The ER looked the same as always. The same fluorescent lights, the same controlled chaos, the same nurses moving between patients with practiced efficiency. I scanned the trauma bays, the hallways, and the break room door.
No Ava.
"Mr. Torres."
I turned. Dr. Park was standing behind me, his expression unreadable.
"Dr. Park. I'm looking for Ava."
Something flickered across his face. Sympathy, maybe. Or pity.
"Let's talk in my office."
I followed him down the hallway, Shane a silent presence at my back. Park's office was small, cluttered with paperwork and medical journals. He closed the door behind us and gestured to the chairs across from his desk.
I didn't sit.
"Where is she?"
He took a breath. "Dr. Rothwell submitted her notice three days ago," Park said. "She's taken a leave of absence, effective immediately."
The words didn't make sense. Ava loved this job. She'd built her entire life around it—the long hours, the impossible cases, the chance to save people when no one else could.
"She said she needs to step away," Park continued. "Until the Lang situation is resolved." He paused. "She didn't tell you."
It wasn't a question.
"No." My voice came out rough. "She didn't."
Park was quiet for a moment. "I've known Ava since her residency. She's one of the best doctors I've ever worked with—and one of the most stubborn." He met my eyes. "She thinks she's protecting people by doing this. Removing herself from the equation."
"She's wrong."
"I know." Park leaned back in his chair. "But she's not going to believe that until the threat is gone. Until it's safe for her to come back."
Ava had quit her job. The job she'd spent fourteen years building, the career she'd sacrificed everything for. She'd walked away from all of it—from the ER, from her patients, from me.
Because she thought it was the only way to keep everyone safe.
"Thank you, Dr. Park."
Park nodded.
I walked out of his office, Shane beside me.
That night, I lay in bed alone, staring at the ceiling.
The sheets still smelled like her. Faintly, fading a little more each day. Soon they wouldn't smell like anything at all, and that thought was somehow worse than the bruised ribs, worse than the marks that were slowly fading from purple to yellow.
I thought about Carmen.
I thought about the way she'd left—half the furniture gone, her face already closed off, the ring in my sock drawer that I'd never get to give her.
I want someone who's going somewhere.
She'd left because I wasn't enough. Because being a firefighter wasn't enough. Because loving her with everything I had wasn't enough to make her stay.
And now Ava.
Except—
Except Ava hadn't left because I wasn't enough. She'd left because she thought she was too much. Too dangerous. Too much of a target. She'd left because she loved me, and she thought loving me meant destroying me.
It was different. I knew it was different.
But lying here in the dark, reaching for someone who wasn't there, my hand landed on cold sheets. Same ending. Different reason.
Please don't look for me.
She'd asked me not to find her. Asked me to let her go.
I couldn't do that. Letting her go wasn't an option.
But I was starting to realize that finding her might not be enough. She'd run because she was scared—scared of the Langs, scared of what they might do, scared of being the reason someone else got hurt.
I couldn't fix that with words. Couldn't fix it by showing up and demanding she come home.
The only way to fix it was to end the threat. Take down the Langs. Make it safe for her to come back.
She'd come back.
She had to come back.
I closed my eyes and tried to sleep.
I dreamed of the fire escape. The night she'd told me about her father, her voice barely above a whisper while the city hummed below us. The way she'd looked at me after. Like I was someone worth trusting.
I woke up reaching for someone who wasn't there.