Page 17 of Her Older Fireman

Epilogue

Maddie

(Six months later)

My therapist tells me that sometimes, people will inadvertently do minor things that send my emotions spiraling out of control. Triggers, she says. When Gabe put his house up for sale without telling me, it stirred up all of my fears about being unworthy of love. The things I felt so often when I lived with my mom. It triggered my anxiety. My shame.

I moved in with Gabe just about immediately after the fire. Into his old house, and then I went with him a few weeks later when he closed on his new one. It was a great fresh start, but we both knew that a new house and a new relationship wouldn’t fix the pain that I had carried inside for so long. I started seeing a therapist not long after that. It’s slow going, but I’m not quite so flooded by the negative stuff anymore.

Gabe loves that I’m taking care of myself, and insists on helping however he can. Sometimes it’s handing me a box of tissues while I sit on the couch and cry. He reminds me that my emotions aren’t bad—they just are. Other times, he clears out for a little while when I need some alone time.

“This is what you do for someone you love,” he always says.

Things aren’t perfect—no relationship is. But Gabe is honest, respectful, and kind. And when he asked me to marry him, I said yes with my whole heart.

I glance down at my engagement ring as it sparkles in the weak winter sunlight that streams in through the window. He should be home from a shift any minute now, I think. As if on cue, I hear the kitchen door open and Bruce’s nails clicking against the tile as he bounds through the house to say hello.

“Baby?” I hear Gabe say from the kitchen. “Letter for you.”

When I walk into the kitchen, he’s holding a fat envelope. I get closer and see the logo from my top choice law school printed in the corner. It’s a great school, and local—I can live here and commute.

“Oh, shit,” I say weakly.

“Well?” he demands with a smile. “Open it.”

With shaking hands, I carefully tear the envelope open and slide the contents out onto the counter. There’s a letter on top.

Pleased to offer you a place…

...superior LSAT scores…

...you have been selected for a Pearce Foundation scholarship…

...your full tuition, plus a living stipend…

“Gabe,” I say, looking up into his eyes as I swipe away a few tears. “I did it.”

“I knew that you could,” he says, his voice choked with emotion. “You can do anything.”

And right there, holding the letter that lays my future out in front of me, while the man I love looks at me like he’s never been prouder, my nagging doubts about myself fall silent. Maybe I could have gotten here on my own. But the road is smoother with him to lend me his strength when I feel like I don’t have any of my own.

“It’s more than that,” I say. “We can do anything.”

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