“I can’t do this, Ryder.” The words come out in a rush. “I spent days thinking you were dead. Checking the news constantly. Seeing reports about injured firefighters and not knowing if one of them was you. When you finally called, I could barely breathe I was so relieved, and then you hung up, and I spent the next days terrified all over again.”
Stepping closer, I soften my voice. “I know. I’m sorry—”
“Don’t apologize for saving lives.” She’s crying now. “Don’t apologize for being who you are. But I can’t—I can’t live like this. Every shift wondering if you’re coming home. Every news report sending me into a panic. I’m not strong enough.”
“You’re the strongest person I know.” Another step closer. “You survived everything life threw at you. You can survive this too.”
“But I don’t want to just survive!” The words burst out of her, raw and honest. “I don’t want to spend our whole relationship terrified. That’s not love, that’s torture.”
I reach the bottom of the porch steps, looking up at her. “So what are you saying?”
She’s shaking, tears streaming down her face. “I’m saying I love you. God, I love you so much it’s killing me. But I can’t do this. I can’t be the girlfriend who waits and worries and checks obituaries.”
The pain in my chest is physical. “So this is it? You’re ending this?”
“I don’t know!” She sinks down onto the porch step, burying her face in her hands. “I don’t know what to do. I love you, but I’m terrified, and I don’t see a solution that doesn’t destroy one of us.”
Sinking onto the step beside her, I sit close but not touching. “Laney, I need to tell you something. Since you’re contemplating a big decision, you need all the facts. It’s about the promotion Brokka offered me.”
She looks up, wiping her eyes. “The lieutenant position?”
“Yeah. I’ve been wrestling with whether to take it. More money, more responsibility, and a better career path. But it also means more time in the Zone, more on-call hours, and…” I force myself to be honest, “the travel permit situation gets harder, not easier. Even with lieutenant pay and status, I’d be looking at maybe two days off per month to leave the Zone. Maybe.”
“So the promotion makes it harder for us?” Her voice is small.
“In some ways, yes. In others…” I reach for her hand. “It means a better apartment. More financial stability. The ability to actually build a life instead of just surviving paycheck to paycheck. If you—” I squeeze her hand, “—if you were willing to move to the Zone, the promotion would mean I could actually support us both while you finish school.”
Understanding dawns in her eyes. “You’ve been thinking about this.”
“Since the moment I fell in love with you. I just didn’t want to presume. Didn’t want to ask you to give up your life here.”
She’s quiet for a long time, staring at our joined hands. I follow her gaze and decide her tan skin against my green skin is the most perfect color combination in the universe.
Silence stretches between us, heavy but not empty. She’s still staring at our hands, thumb brushing the back of mine like she’s testing the texture of a thought. Each second that passes feels as though a rope is cinching tighter, pressing the air from my lungs.
She hasn’t pulled away, but she hasn’t spoken either—and I can almost see the gears turning behind her eyes.
Don’t say it’s over. Don’t say goodbye.
When she finally exhales, it’s shaky, like the breath carries a decision. “Maybe you’re right,” she murmurs, more to herself than to me. “If I’m brave enough to try it…”
Her gaze lifts to mine and I hold still, afraid that if I move, the fragile moment will shatter. She keeps thinking out loud, words forming between us like cautious steps across a river.
“I’m doing distance learning, anyway. Most of my coursework is online. And for vet school, I’ll need hands-on clinical hours—which I can get at vet offices near the Zone.”
“Laney—”
“I’ll keep the cabin,” she continues, the words coming faster now. “For weekends when you have time off, for… maybe a sanctuary in the future, when restrictions loosen. But my primary residence could be in the Zone. With you. Building a life together instead of trying to maintain one across hours of mountain roads.”
I’m shaking my head before she’s even finished. “I can’t ask you to give up the cabin. It’s your safe place. Your grandmother’s land—”
“I’m not giving it up.” She squeezes my hand. “I’m choosing to use it differently. As a weekend retreat for us. A place for the animal sanctuary when the time is right. But Ryder, I spent six days alone in this cabin, terrified, and I realized something.”
“What?”
“This place was supposed to make me feel safe. Keep me from being abandoned again. But all it did was isolate me.” Her eyes are bright with unshed tears. “And when I thought I’d lost you, being alone here was the worst thing in the world. I don’t want to hide anymore. I don’t want to use this cabin as a bunker to keep me separated from life.”
“But the Zone—”
