Page 33 of Blazing Hearts

Kara took in the space, her eyes scanning over the bookshelves crammed with medical texts and novels, the neatly folded blanket draped over the arm of the couch, and the small collection of houseplants thriving near the window. It was such a stark contrast to Mallory’s usual polished demeanor—it felt more personal, more real.

When Mallory returned with two glasses of wine, Kara was seated on the couch, her elbows resting on her knees as she examined a framed photo of what looked like a younger Mallory with an older couple—her parents, maybe.

“Here,” Mallory said, handing Kara one of the glasses. She sat down beside her, keeping a few inches of space between them. Kara noticed how Mallory’s hand trembled slightly as she took a sip of her wine.

“Thanks,” Kara said, taking a sip of her own. The wine was rich and smooth, its warmth spreading through her chest. She set the glass down on the coffee table and leaned back, letting herself sink into the plush cushions.

“You’ve done a good job with this place,” Kara said after a moment, her voice light and casual. “Very… you.”

Mallory raised an eyebrow, the corner of her mouth quirking up into a faint smile. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Kara shrugged, feigning innocence. “It’s just… neat. Organized. Very professional, but with a cozy twist. Like you.”

Mallory rolled her eyes, but the faint smile lingered. “I think that’s the most backhanded compliment I’ve ever received.”

Kara chuckled, the sound breaking some of the tension in the room. “It’s a compliment, I swear. I mean, look at these plants. They’re thriving. You’ve got to have some kind of magic touch.”

“Or I just water them regularly,” Mallory said dryly, though her expression softened.

Kara reached over, her fingers brushing against the glossy leaves of a nearby monstera. “Still impressive. I can barely keep a cactus alive.”

Mallory laughed, a genuine, melodic sound that made Kara’s chest feel lighter. “Maybe I’ll give you some pointers,” she said, her voice warmer now.

As the conversation drifted to lighter topics—books, hobbies, and the quirks of life in Phoenix Ridge—Kara couldn’t help but notice the subtle shifts in Mallory’s demeanor. She was more relaxed now, her shoulders no longer as tense, her smile coming more easily. But there was still a shadow of something beneath the surface, a weight Kara couldn’t ignore.

“You okay?” Kara asked gently, her tone softening.

Mallory hesitated, her gaze dropping to her glass of wine. She turned it slowly in her hands, the liquid swirling like her thoughts.

“I’m fine,” she said after a moment, though the words felt hollow.

Kara didn’t press her, but she didn’t look away, either. She simply waited, giving Mallory the space to speak if she wanted to.

Finally, Mallory sighed and set her glass down beside Kara’s. “It’s just been a long day,” she admitted. “Seeing all of that—people trapped, injured… It’s hard not to think about how fragile everything is.”

Kara nodded, her expression understanding. “Yeah. It hits you sometimes, doesn’t it? How quickly things can change.”

Mallory looked at her, her eyes searching Kara’s face as if looking for something she wasn’t sure how to name. “How do you do it?” she asked quietly. “Face that every day and still… keep going?”

Kara leaned forward, resting her forearms on her knees as she considered the question. “You find a reason,” she said simply. “Something that keeps you grounded. For me, it’s my team. My family. And, sometimes, it’s just knowing that even if I can’t save everyone, I can still make a difference for someone.”

Mallory’s gaze softened, and for a moment, the room seemed to shrink around them, the air charged with something unspoken. Kara wanted to reach out, to close the gap between them, but she held back, sensing that Mallory needed to set the pace.

“Thanks,” Mallory said after a beat, her voice quieter now. “For coming in. For… being here.”

Kara smiled, her heart swelling with the knowledge that Mallory wanted her company. “Anytime,” she said, and she meant it.

Mallory sat cross-legged on the couch, her wine glass cradled in her hands as she stared into the deep red liquid. The light from the small lamp on the side table bathed the room in a warm, golden glow, the kind of light that made everything feel softer, more forgiving.

Kara was beside her, one arm draped over the back of the couch, her body angled toward Mallory as if instinctively trying to shield her from the weight of the world. She hadn’t said much since Mallory started talking, but that was part of Kara’s magic—knowing when to speak and when to simply be there.

Mallory’s voice was quiet when she finally broke the silence. “It’s not something I talk about often. Or… ever, really.” Her fingers tightened around the glass as if it were the only thing anchoring her.

“You don’t have to,” Kara said softly, her voice a steady counterpoint to the uncertainty in Mallory’s. “But I’m here if you want to.”

Mallory let out a shaky breath, her shoulders rising and falling with the effort. “I think… I think today just cracked something open in me. Seeing those people trapped, wondering if they were going to make it… It was like this ugly reminder of how little control we really have.” She paused, her lips pressing into a thin line. “And I hate that. I hate feeling helpless.”

Kara nodded, her expression calm but attentive. “It’s a hard thing to face. But it’s also human.”

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