Page 48 of Ember's Heart

Slowly, his frantic gasps changed to ragged breaths. His body was still tense, but began to relax. I gave him his space and just waited until he stopped thrashing completely.

When I knew it was over, I reached out again, this time placing my hand gently on his back, my palm flat against his skin. He flinched, a small, involuntary movement, but didn’t pull away. He just laid there, his chest heaving, his face turned away from me.

“It’s okay,” I whispered, my fingers gently tracing the lines of his scarred back. “I’m here.”

He slowly turned, his eyes meeting mine in the dim light. I could see the shame, the fear, and the exhaustion swimming in their depths. The man who had been so strong, so in control, just hours before was now just a frightened boy. I didn’t say anything. I just pulled him into my arms, holding him tight. He wrapped his arms around me and buried his face in my neck. I could feel his body shaking with the lingering adrenaline as I held him, my fingers stroking his hair, whispering, “It’s okay,” over and over again, until his breathing finally evened out.

The tension in his body eased. I gently pulled back, my hands cupping his face. I wiped the sweat from his forehead with my thumb.

“You’re okay,” I whispered again, pressing kisses to his forehead.

He nodded, his eyes closing. “I’m sorry,” he rasped, his voice raw. “I’m so sorry, Ember.”

“Shhh,” I said, shushing him with a finger to his lips. “Don’t. Don’t you dare apologize. You have nothing to be sorry for.” I kissed him gently, a kiss that was filled with all the love and admiration I felt for him. “It’s okay, Colton. I love you.”

He let out a shaky laugh that wasn’t quite a laugh. “You shouldn’t have to deal with this.”

“Shh, stop. I don’thaveto. Iwantto. Ichooseto deal with this,” I told him. “With you. That’s what love is, Colton.”

He was quiet for a long moment, his thumb tracing the curve of my jaw. “I love you too, Firefly” he whispered.

I didn’t want to break this moment, but I needed to get the soaked sheets off and put dry, warm ones on. “Come on,” I said. “Go get a shower. I’ll strip the bed and get us some clean sheets.”

He hesitated. “I’ll help.”

I pushed a strand of hair from his forehead, my thumb stroking his brow. “No, you won’t. Just go get a shower. I got this.”

He nodded, a look of gratitude in his eyes. He got up and disappeared into the bathroom, the sound of the shower turning on. As I stripped the bed, I threw the soaked wet sheets into the laundry hamper, my mind replaying what had happened. The desperation in his voice… it was all so real, so gut-wrenching.

I quickly remade the bed, smoothing out the new sheets. When he emerged from the bathroom a few minutes later, he looked a little more at peace. He was wrapped in a towel, his hair still damp from the shower.

I took his hand, my fingers lacing with his. “Come on,” I said, pulling him back to bed.

We laid there, him on his back, one arm behind his head, the other around me as I snuggled in close. I laid my head on his chest, as my fingers traced the outline of the scar on his side. It was a long, jagged line that ran from his ribs to his hip.

“Does it hurt?” I whispered, my lips brushing against his skin.

He tensed slightly before relaxing. “The scars? Not really. The nerve endings were damaged so I don’t feel much there. But yeah, sometimes, when I overdo it, or strain my muscles, I feel it. It’s like a dull, constant ache. A reminder.”

I didn’t say anything, just continued tracing the line of the scar. He was quiet for a moment before he said, “The ones on my back are worse. The doctor said it was a miracle I wasn’t killed from the blast.”

I recalled the scars on his back. They were pink, thick, raised uneven lines. A sob caught in my throat recalling what he told me about that day. I couldn’t bear to remember it. Just the thought I could’ve lost him was too much.

“And after...” I whispered, needing to change the subject. “After you were… discharged. Where did you go? What did you do?”

He was quiet for so long I thought he wasn’t going to answer.

“I just traveled,” he said finally. “I just moved around. Never stayed in one place too long. Maybe a couple of months at the most. I spent some time in California. Tried to surf.”

My head shot up, a surprised laugh escaping my lips. “Surfing? You can surf?”

He smiled. “Tried. I tried to surf. I also slept on the beach a couple times. Don’t recommend that. Sand and crabs get everywhere.”

I laughed, a genuine laugh that eased the tension in the room from moments ago.

He laughed too. “ Yeah Itriedto surf, Firefly. The Pacific Ocean and I made a mutual agreement, I was not cut out for the surfer life.” He paused, a playful glint in his eye. “I think I spent more time getting pummeled by waves than I did actually on the board.”

“Good,” I said, smiling. “I might like you as a surfer boy, but I love my country boy.” I rested my head back down, giving his scar another kiss, and then laying my head back on his chest, my fingers tracing circles across his chest.