Page 44 of Breaking Through

"Stop fidgeting." Holden's voice was soft but steady beside me. "You're going to wear a hole in that collar."

His fingers brushed mine as he straightened my tie. The simple touch anchored me, even as my heart hammered against my ribs. Two years of saying no to this ceremony, and now here I stood, about to face everyone I'd left behind.

Through a gap in the curtain, I caught glimpses of the crowd gathering in the Chicago Fire Department's main hall. Dress uniforms created a sea of dark blue, broken by the civilian clothes of family members. Jenkins' oldest would be fifteen now. According to the department newsletter I pretended not to read, Martinez's widow had remarried last year.

Holden sensed my tension. "They're just people who knew you before and want to see who you've become."

"That's what worries me."

He squeezed my hand, ignoring how my palm was slick with sweat. "Good thing you've got emotional support pretzels in your pocket then."

A laugh caught in my throat, surprising us both. Trust Holden to smuggle snacks into a memorial service.

Chief Matthews appeared, his dress uniform impeccable. He glanced at our joined hands, but his expression remained neutral. "Five minutes, Wade. You ready?"

No. I wasn't ready. I'd never be ready. Holden rubbed my wrist with his thumb, and somehow, my voice came out steady. "Yes, sir."

As the Chief disappeared, Holden reached up and held my face in his hands. "Hey. Remember what Dr. Fieldstone said yesterday?"

I did. The impromptu session with my old department therapist had lasted two hours in her office overlooking Lake Michigan. She'd taken one look at me and cleared her afternoon schedule.

I quoted her. "You can't change the past, but you can choose how to carry it forward."

"She's right." Holden straightened my name badge one last time. "And you're not carrying it alone anymore."

The words were devastating in their simple truth. Here was this kid—no, this man—who'd somehow slipped past all my defenses with his camera and sunny attitude, standing beside me in the middle of my worst nightmare, and it was right. He belonged at my side.

On the other side of the curtain, Chief Matthews began the ceremony. I listened to familiar words as he spoke: duty, sacrifice, brotherhood. Once, they'd been my entire world. Now,they sounded like whispers from a previous life, one where I hadn't learned that sometimes the bravest thing you can do is let someone else help you survive.

Holden's hand found mine again as the Chief began introducing speakers. My pulse still raced, but I no longer worried that I'd shatter into a million pieces. The scars under my uniform ached like battle wounds, not marks of failure.

"Your hands are steady." Holden clicked his heels and smiled at me.

They were. For the first time in three years, my hands were completely steady, maybe because they had something better to hold onto than guilt.

"Wade Forrester." Chief Matthews called my name.

Holden squeezed my fingers once more before letting go. "I'll be right here."

I stepped past the curtain onto the stage with harsh lights shining on my face. The glare was powerful enough to hide the hundreds of pairs of eyes from my gaze. As I walked to the podium, I thought about Blue Harbor's pine-scented mornings and how Holden's camera always seemed to find beauty in broken things.

A hush fell over the crowd. They waited to hear what three years of silence had taught me. The papers in my pocket outlined a proper speech about courage and moving forward, but at the moment, I knew they weren't the words I needed to say.

"Jenkins had three kids," I began, my voice rough but clear. "The morning of the warehouse fire, he showed me pictures from their school play..."

My story tumbled out, carrying all the guilt and fear I'd held so close to my chest. To my surprise, I also added truths from other stories about healing and finding new ways to serve.

In the third row, Holden sat, with his eyes glistening with unshed tears and a proud smile on his face. He believed in me even more than I believed in myself.

***

After the speeches, the reception hall buzzed with controlled chaos. Clusters of dress uniforms mixed with civilian clothes, while servers navigated the crowd efficiently. I stood in a corner, trying to understand how I'd changed so much in the past few months. The last time I'd been in the room was my discharge ceremony, when even breathing hurt.

Now, so many things had shifted. Guilt no longer strangled me.

Holden materialized at my elbow with a glass of water. "Your hands are still steady."

"Shouldn't you be charming the rest of the department?" I nodded toward where he'd spent the last twenty minutes talking with my old crew. They'd practically adopted him, especially after he'd pulled out his phone to show them pictures of the infamous Blue Harbor squirrel gang.

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