Chapter 25 – Michael
Chapter Twenty-Five
MICHAEL
C hecking my phone for probably the hundredth time this morning, I frown. Still no text from Hannah.
Is she not feeling well? Or just busy at the shop?
Hoping it’s the latter, I slide the phone into my pocket and leave the firehouse. The walk to Knit Happens is lined with scarecrows, inflatable ghosts, and pumpkins—a reminder that Halloween is on its way.
A smile pulls at my lips. Usually, I leave the dressing up to Katie, but I’d be down with a costume this year. Especially if Hannah would like to do some sort of cheesy couples costumes, where we match or play off each other.
I used to shake my head at that kind of thing, but now I look forward to it. More so after yesterday.
When I blacked out in the high school, I thought it was all over. That I’d never see my daughter or Hannah again. And there’s nothing that makes you get your priorities straight like staring death in the face.
I don’t want to waste any more time. I’ve told Hannah I love her, but that’s not enough. I’m tired of trying to make our crazy schedules sync so we can slip in an hour or two together, tired of coming home and not seeing her face.
It’s time to ask her to move in with me.
The thought fills my chest with butterflies, and I pick up the pace, crossing the street and opening the door to Knit Happens.
It’s not Hannah at the counter, though. It’s Flick.
I stop just inside the entrance, the door falling closed behind me. “Good morning. Is Hannah here?”
“Um.” Flick looks up from the yarn catalogue she’s flipping through. “She’s at home. Having a flare.”
I blink. She is? Why didn’t she tell me?
Maybe this is a really bad one. She did respond to my text yesterday telling her I was fine after the fire, but after I followed up by saying I needed to see her, she went dark. Has she been curled up in bed this whole time, too in pain to even pick up her phone?
“Shit.” I rub my jaw. “Okay. I’ll go see her. Do you know if she needs anything brought over?”
“Uh…Michael?” She reaches out a hand. Stops. Purses her lips and looks away.
“What?” I cock my head. There’s something she isn’t telling me. “What is it?”
Her throat rolls with a swallow. “It’s more than just the flare,” she whispers. “Yesterday was really hard on Hannah. Seeing you in danger, not knowing if you’d be all right… It took a toll on her.”
I feel my eyebrows rise. “It wasn’t exactly a walk in the park for me either.”
And not just because my team and I were in danger. Being in that fire brought up so much about my dad—regrets that I didn’t know I still had.
He was right about Katie, as much as I haven’t wanted to admit it. Hell, he was right about the firehouse kitchen too. I’ve been stumped when it comes to the renovations, but his plans show that he knew exactly what to do.
Most of all, he was right when it comes to family and community. Right about how important it is to keep our bonds strong, to spend every day we have with the people we love, because we never know which breath will be our last.
Flick sighs. “I know, and I’m not trying to diminish your experience. I’m sorry about that.”
I push my fingers through my hair, frustrated. “I’m sorry too. I didn’t mean to snap. Her flare… What caused it?”
She smiles, but it’s a sad one. “Emotional stress is a big trigger.”
My mouth goes dry. Got it. Emotional stress, like the kind you experience when someone you love is in danger.
Is it my fault Hannah flared?
That’s a hard pill to swallow, but I already know I’m being too hard on myself, and it’s no one’s fault. It’s not her fault that she has fibromyalgia, and it’s not my fault some wannabe pyro lit that Bunsen burner. This is just life. We’re dealt certain cards, and we play them to the best of our ability.
The only thing I know for sure is that, no matter what cards we hold, I want to be seated next to her at the table. Always.
“I need to see her.” Before Flick can answer, I’m out the door and jogging for where my truck is parked at the firehouse.
Ten minutes later, I knock on Hannah’s door, palms sweaty and heart racing. I need her in my arms so bad that I have the shakes. I need to kiss her, tell her I love her, that she means the world to me. If I can do that, everything will melt away.
The stress from the fire. The fear that I put her through. It’ll all be gone.
The door opens, and she stands there, dressed in an oversized sweater and leggings, bags under her eyes.
“Hey,” I breathe.
“Hi.”
Gently, in case she’s in pain, I pull her into my arms. When she wraps her arms around me, I tighten the hold.
“I love you,” I breathe into her hair, tears pricking my eyes. “God, Hannah, I’m so happy to see you. Last night, all I could think about was you. How are you feeling? Flick said you’re having a flare.”
Drawing back, I study her face, heavy with fatigue. “I can stay here with you unless I get a call to go in. Have you eaten today?”
Her eyebrows knit together. “You have a bruise.” She touches the welt on my temple.
I shrug. “It’s no big deal. I’ve had worse.”
She drops her hand and backs away like she’s been shocked.
“What’s wrong?” I suddenly feel cold all over.
“Thank you for coming to check on me.” She wraps her arms around herself. “The best thing you can do, though, is give me space.”
I can’t help it. I laugh. “Space? Why?”
She licks her lips, avoiding my eyes. “I need time to think. What happened yesterday…it made me realize that maybe we’re going too fast. You know, jumping into a relationship before either one of us is ready.”
“I’m ready.” My chest swells, full of desire and frustration that need to be released. “Hannah, I want to be with you. Every day. Always. I know last night was scary. That was your first time seeing me on a call like that, and it makes sense that you were spooked. What we need right now, though, is more time together. To work through our feelings around last night and talk about next steps. Hannah, I…I want you to move in with us.”
Her gaze flicks to mine, and I see something bright there—excitement?—before the wall comes back up. “I need time to think, Michael. A…few days.”
It’s like I’ve swallowed a whole pile of rocks, and they line my stomach and throat. “Is this about your flare? Are you worried that I’ll trigger more of them?”
She sighs. “That’s not the issue. Of course I hate having flares, but they don’t shorten my life or anything. It’s about…” Her voice cracks. “Losing you. If you died in one of these fires, it would break my heart, and it— I can’t take any more heartbreak. I don’t think I can go through losing someone I love again.” She presses her sweater sleeve to her wet eyes. “So, I need some time to decide whether I can…cope with that risk.”
Her gaze holds mine for a moment before breaking away. I reach for her, but she steps back, and all the hope and excitement I built up for us crumbles to the ground. I’m a husk of the man I was driving over here, no more than one of the scarecrows set out for Halloween.
“Hannah,” I rasp, but what can I say to that? She has the right to make her own choices, just like everyone else. “Okay,” I finish, lamely, stupidly, disappointed in myself for not correcting this course we were on before it was too late.
“See you later,” she whispers.
She shuts the door, and I stand on her porch like the sorry son of a bitch I am. A reject. Someone who has tried his hardest but still isn’t good enough. I could put out every fire on the East Coast, dazzle and astonish Hannah in every way, give her anything and everything a man could ever provide a woman—a beautiful home, children, affection—but I can’t take away the uncertainty that comes with life.
And so I trudge back to my truck without a clue where to go from here.