Page 123 of Rescuing Ember

“I want to.” The words surprise me with their truth. “I want you to know… To understand…”

“I already do.” His fingers find mine, intertwining. “But show me anyway.”

Each item tells a story. The photo—my mother’s last gift before disappearing into a haze of drugs and broken promises. The report cards—proof that once, I had potential. The match—my first taste of power, of control.

“You were a good student.” He studies a faded A+ in math, his thumb tracing the red ink.

A bitter laugh escapes. “For all the good it did me.”

“It kept you sharp.” His voice drops lower. “Kept you thinking, even when the world tried to break you.”

The last item emerges—a small, tarnished key—my first apartment key, earned through blood, sweat, and countless candles sold on street corners.

“I can’t wait to see where you take your candles. I know it’s going to be great.” Blaze takes the key gently, setting it aside.

His smile reaches his eyes, crinkling the corners. The bruises on his face are starting to fade, purple deepening to yellow at the edges.

“Speaking of building…” He reaches into his pocket, withdrawing something that catches the light. Another key. Newer. Shinier. “My place in California. If you want it.”

The world stops. Restarts. My heart pounds against broken ribs.

“That’s… That’s a big step.” The air feels suddenly thin.

“Doesn’t have to be.” His fingers trace patterns on my palm. “Could just be practical. A place to store your supplies while you set up the business.”

But we both know it’s more than that.

So much more.

“I wake up screaming sometimes and can’t sleep without a candle burning. And?—”

His lips find mine, gentle but insistent. The kiss tastes like possibilities.

“I have nightmares too.” His forehead rests against mine. “I hog the blankets and drink milk straight from the carton.”

A laugh bubbles up, half sob. “That’s disgusting.”

“So, what do you say? Wanna shack up with me?”

The key sits between us, warm from his pocket. My fingers hover over it, trembling.

“We’ll take it day by day and step by step.” His breath fans across my lips.

My fingers close around the key. “Day by day.”

His smile could light up the darkest night. “That’s my girl.”

Before long, we’re done. Two boxes line the wall; my life condensed into cardboard and tape.

“You’re bleeding again.” My fingers brush Blaze’s shoulder, where crimson seeps through white gauze. Hours of packing have taken their toll.

His jaw tightens. “So are you.”

A glance down confirms it—dark patches staining my shirt where stitches have pulled. The adrenaline fades, leaving bone-deep exhaustion in its wake.

“Shower?” The word comes out rougher than intended. “I mean—you should clean up. The bandages…”

Heat crawls up my neck as his eyes darken. Understanding passes between us, electric and raw.

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