Page 78 of Torched Promises


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I swallowed hard, my throat sticking like the words were lodged there. Again, I thought about stepping away. But the longer I stared at her, the more I knew I couldn’t avoid this anymore. She deserved to know, in a way. If she were going to be so close to me, so close to Hailey, she should know what had happened.

The facade I worked so hard to maintain splintered at the edges as the devastation flooded to the surface. I rolled my eyes up toward the ceiling, needing something else to focus on as I told this story.

“Jessica, my wife, died the day that Hailey was born.”

Her fingers twitched, but she did not speak.

Burning tears welled, but I composed myself enough to continue.

“Hailey’s birth went about as smooth as could be expected for a first-time mom. I was a fucking wreck, but Jess was so strong. She didn’t even take the meds. She did it all on her own. She hadn’t wanted to miss out on any aspect of the birth experience. She was a damn warrior through it all.”

My lip quivered, and I cleared my throat. The memory of her, of Jess, was always so vivid when I allowed myself to think of her. Her father had been a volunteer firefighter when my dad was chief, and we had been aware of each other for most of our lives.

I’d started my career right out of high school. I lived and breathed and bled for the fire station. For the brotherhood. For this town.

My mind had never been focused on relationships. At least, not until the day Jess came up to me and asked me out. There wasn’t an ounce of hesitation in her; she knew what she wanted and I liked that about her. I never had to guess at what she was thinking or feeling.

“It was hours after Hails was born that the call came in…” I squeezed my eyes shut, the shame and guilt too much to bear. “It was big. I wasn’t on duty, but they were calling for all hands on deck. There was a massive fire in one of the old dorm buildings on the college campus and they needed everyone who could help.”

Palmer’s entire body tensed. I forced my eyes to open, to face her as I confessed my deepest regret.

She was silently crying, her mouth open in shock. She had gone so pale her freckles stood out in stark contrast.

“Part of me didn’t want to go. My wife had just given birth, for God’s sake. But…Jess knew. It was in the middle of the night, but she was awake, feeding Hailey, and she told me to go. She told me to be safe and come back to them as quickly as I could.”

My voice broke, but my heart broke more. I hated myself for what I’d done. I had left her at such a delicate time when she’d needed me most.

Jess and I had a hard time conceiving Hailey. It had almost torn Jess apart. I’d watched as month after month of negative tests made the spark in her eye dim. The disappointment was always crushing. Devastating. And I was helpless to do anything about it. I couldn’t fix it and make it better. I could only hold her until next month. The next test.

As the months turned into years, we had considered adoption. We had filled out paperwork and got the process started when we found out about Hailey.

“I promised her,” I rasped, fighting a sob. “I promised I’d see her soon, but when I returned to her after the fire was undercontrol and everyone had been accounted for, she—she was gone. I’d lost her.”

Palmer blinked those wide eyes, a question rising in them. My fingers tightened around her wrist, clinging to her.

“She had a rare postpartum complication that I hadn’t even known about. The amniotic fluid can sometimes enter the bloodstream of the mother, and it causes a catastrophic allergic reaction…they tried to save her, but they couldn’t.”

I gritted my teeth, fighting the memory of walking back into that hospital room and the sight of her lifeless body. It was a nightmare I would never wake from.

“She died alone in the hospital, with our baby right next to her, because I’dlefther.”

The grief crested over me in a wave so strong my knees almost buckled. Palmer wrapped an arm around my waist and pulled herself against me as I struggled to stay standing. My knees trembled.

“Roman,” she said softly, “it’s not your fault.”

I shook my head, one tear escaping from my lashes and dropping into her hair. “But it feels like my fault.”

Palmer tightened her hold around my waist, and I thought she might’ve been shaking, too. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

My nostrils flared. That wasn’t true. I had done something wrong. “I left her alone, Palmer.”

Her chest hitched with a sob. “I’m so sorry.”

I cup my free hand to the back of her head, holding her against me. “This is why I need you to go,” I said with conviction. “I can’t—the thought of something happening to you crushes me, Palmer.”

She buried her face into my chest. My shirt grew damp from her tears. We stayed like that awhile, until her gasping sobs started to slow.

“Why are you crying?” I asked in a whisper. I didn’t want her to cry for me.