Page 53 of Hearts & Embers

Jasper

The decision to spend time apart from Aurora was difficult to agree to but proved to be considerably harder to live with.

For several days I attempted convincing myself that space would help. The logic seemed reasonable enough when Aurora and I had discussed it in her apartment. We both needed time to think. An opportunity to examine fears, expectations, and everything that had brought us to this point. Unfortunately, logic became considerably less convincing once I returned to an apartment that suddenly felt far too quiet.

Work didn't help.

Being back on full operational duties should have occupied more of my attention than it did. Firehouse 99 continued operating with its usual efficiency, calls continued arriving, and the responsibilities of the job remained exactly as demanding as they had always been. The problem was that every quiet moment seemed determined to remind me of Aurora. A coffee shop prompted memories of our first real conversation. A bookstore display triggered thoughts of the afternoon we spent discussing authors instead of shopping. Even driving through the city occasionally reminded me of places we'd visited together.

By Thursday morning, Cody had stopped pretending not to notice.

He dropped into the chair opposite and I glanced up from my coffee.

"You've been miserable all week."

"That's an exaggeration."

"No, it isn't."

He shook his head in disagreement.

"You haven't stopped thinking about Aurora since you left her apartment days ago."

There wasn't much point denying it so nodded.

Cody studied me for a moment and I asked, "What exactly am I supposed to do?"

"Talk to her. As opposed to spending another week convincing yourself that suffering in silence is a personality trait."

I ignored the comment. Unfortunately, Cody continued.

"You love her."

I looked away briefly before admitting, "That's not the problem."

His expression softened slightly.

"You know she loves you too."

I thought about Aurora constantly. The week away from her had done nothing except confirm how important she’d become. Every argument I'd made in favour of giving her space still sounded reasonable, yet none of them made being apart feel any easier.

"Maybe."

Cody sighed.

"You're exhausting. Talk to her."

The remainder of the shift offered no improvement. Every attempt to focus eventually failed because my thoughts kept returning to the same place. Aurora's concerns weren't unreasonable. Firefighting involved risk. I'd known that from the beginning. The difference was that now somebody I loved was struggling with that reality, and I had no idea how to help her through it without asking her to ignore concerns I understood completely.

Our conversation about the dangers of my profession continued occupying my thoughts throughout the afternoon. By the time we returned to the station after a routine call, it had reached the point where even Cole noticed.

"Office," he growled.

I glanced toward him.

"That sounds ominous."

His lack of response provided absolutely no reassurance.