“It’s not that?—”
“Babe, we know your heart is broken, but I say this with love. You can’t stop living, okay? Beating yourself up and pushing every single person who loves you away won’t bring him back.”
I can’t look at Kel.
I know he’s right.
But I got scared, and I did exactly that. Being apart from Miles has been hard. Going to work has been hard. I never realized how much Davey and Miles made my shifts bearable. Sandy and Owens are great, and the new transfer we got to replace Miles. But it’s not the same. The way we work together is kind of awkward. We’re not a family anymore.
Heidi would hate it if she knew I felt that way.
She’s been trying so hard to make things more palatable. Watching Sandy watch her try so hard and get nowhere with me makes my heart ache for them both. And Miles.
I know it was only the beginning for us, but we had that kind of... love?
I shake my head like I can toss the thoughts from my mind.
“Your big man came to the shelter last week,” Kel starts.
“What? Is Petal okay?” I flick my gaze to him and scan his face.
“She’s fine. It was you he was worried about. He thought maybe you’d been spending your downtime with us, since he hadn’t heard from you.”
“Oh.”
My chest is too tight.
Sadness closes its iron grip around my heart.
“London, let the man back in already. You say you’re getting on with it and want to move forward. If you ask me, that’s how you do it.”
“I’m not sure . . .”
“Well, darling, I am.”
He pats my legs and stands. “I’ll see you here next week, same time. And I expect a progress report on that man of yours.”
“Kel,” I warn.
He holds a hand up like it’s a stick up. “Or just all the juicy deets.”
I sigh, leaning forward to say goodbye to the pup. She licks my hand and wags her tail like she has not a care in the world.
Oh, to be a doggo. Wouldn’t that make life far more simple.
Chapter 30
MILES
Ladder 43 is comparably quiet on the callout front to 53, and I find myself doing more routine maintenance than ever before. Luckily for me, busy hands mean a calm mind. Well, calmer, I guess.
London walks past the garage door, heading for the common room, and I return my gaze to the polish rag in my hand until my reflection is staring back at me.
Every part of me misses her.
Every inch of my heart aches without her.
But Cap is right, we need to put space between us for the remainder of her probationary year. I won’t be responsible for anything else bad happening to her. Hell will freeze over before that happens.
