Page 41 of Blazing Hearts

Kara’s eyes searched Mallory’s face, the exhaustion and vulnerability in her own gaze matching what she saw in Mallory’s. She saw the small tremble in Mallory’s lips, the subtle way her shoulders sagged with the weight of what had happened. Mallory had been so worried—Kara could see it now, in the way her eyes were red-rimmed and the way she held herself so still, like she was waiting for Kara to break.

Kara didn’t know what to say. Words felt so inadequate in this moment, when all she wanted to do was reassure Mallory, to tell her that everything would be okay. But she couldn’t speak with certainty, not when her own body felt so fragile, so broken.

But there was one thing she could do. One thing that felt right.

With what little strength she had left, Kara squeezed Mallory’s hand and gave her a small, shaky smile. “I’m… I’m glad you’re here.”

Mallory’s face softened, and her breath caught slightly, as if the simple words meant more than they could ever convey. She didn’t say anything at first, just continued to hold Kara’s hand, her thumb tracing gentle patterns on the back of her hand.

And in that moment, despite the confusion and the pain, Kara felt something inside her ease—a weight lifting from her chest. There was so much more left unsaid between them, but right now, this quiet moment, the two of them together in the stillness of the hospital room, was enough.

17

MALLORY

The quiet hum of the hospital room filled the space between them as Mallory remained seated by Kara’s side, her hand still holding Kara’s gently but firmly. Despite the sterile white walls, the beeping of machines, and the sterile scent of antiseptic that seemed to permeate the air, the world outside this room felt distant and irrelevant to Mallory. The only thing that mattered was the woman lying in the bed before her—Kara, bruised, battered, but alive.

Kara’s eyes were still heavy with the remnants of sleep, her body exhausted from the trauma, but she was awake, and that was enough for Mallory, enough to chase away the panic that had clawed at her heart just hours before. She had feared the worst, had feared walking into this room and finding that Kara’s fight hadn’t been enough to keep her here, that the fire had taken her. But she hadn’t. Kara had fought through it. And now, sitting here, Mallory could finally exhale.

But there was a weight still pressing against her chest, a heaviness she couldn’t shake. Mallory had been able to keep her emotions buried during the long hours while Kara had been in surgery, but she hadn’t been able to ignore the fear that had gripped her from the moment she heard Kara’s name on the emergency call, the fear that she would lose her before she could tell her what had been growing in her heart for months.

Mallory shifted slightly in her seat, the movement catching Kara’s attention. She tried to speak, but her throat felt dry, constricted as though the words had gotten caught somewhere inside her.

“I—” Mallory swallowed hard, her voice strained. “I don’t know what I would’ve done if I’d lost you.”

Kara’s gaze softened, her tired eyes lifting to meet Mallory’s with a mixture of warmth and understanding. She wanted to speak, but the effort was too much right now. Instead, she gave Mallory’s hand a gentle squeeze, her silent reassurance more powerful than words ever could be.

“I’ve been so afraid, Kara,” Mallory continued, her voice barely a whisper, laced with vulnerability. “Afraid of everything… of being too late, of being the one who’s not strong enough, of losing you before I could even tell you—before I could even admit to myself—what I feel for you.”

She blinked, her emotions raw, her heart laid bare in a way she’d never allowed herself before. The confession hung between them, heavy and palpable. She didn’t dare look away, didn’t dare break the moment. If she did, she might lose her courage.

“I’ve spent so much time keeping people at a distance,” Mallory continued, her voice faltering. “I’ve been afraid to let anyone in, afraid of what it means to care for someone. But then I… I let myself care for you. And I was scared of that. Scared of what it could cost me. And when I saw you… when I saw you lying there, when I thought I might lose you… I realized how much I couldn’t live without you.”

Kara’s breath caught, and despite the exhaustion in her voice, she managed to speak, her words coming out a bit hoarse. “Mallory…”

The sound of her name on Kara’s lips was enough to pull Mallory from the tight grip of her fear. She looked down at their hands, both clasped together, and she felt a slight shift inside her, a release of the tension she hadn’t realized had been there.

“You know,” Kara continued, her voice low, raspy, but filled with affection, “I’ve been afraid too. But not of what you think.” She paused, her lips twitching slightly with the effort of speaking, the pain in her leg distracting. “I’ve been afraid of losing us—of losing what we have before we even really got the chance to explore it.”

Mallory’s throat tightened, but the knot in her chest seemed to loosen just a little at Kara’s words. She could hear the sincerity in Kara’s voice, could see the truth of it in the way Kara was looking at her—vulnerable, just as Mallory had been.

Kara’s hand tightened around hers again, her fingers cool but strong. “But we’ll face it together,” Kara said softly. “Whatever comes, we’ll face it together. We can do this. You don’t have to be afraid.”

A flood of relief washed over Mallory, and she closed her eyes for a moment, letting the rush of emotion wash over her. When she opened them again, she found Kara watching her, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at the corner of her lips.

“Love’s not something to fear,” Kara said quietly, her voice thick with emotion. “Even when the future’s uncertain. Especially then. Because we’ve got each other. And that’s enough for me.”

Mallory’s chest tightened again, but it wasn’t from fear this time. It was from something else, something warmer, something that made her feel both grounded and free all at once. She gave Kara’s hand a gentle squeeze, her own smile tugging at the corners of her lips despite the exhaustion that still weighed heavily on both of them.

“Yeah,” Mallory whispered, her voice thick with emotion. “Me too.”

The words didn’t feel like enough, but they were all she had. And in that moment, they were everything.

Kara’s eyes softened, and she shifted in her bed slightly, her body still too weak to do much more. But Mallory could see it in her—see the strength that still lived in her, even after everything. And she knew, without a doubt, that they could face whatever came next. Together.

Mallory sat beside Kara’s bed, her fingers interlaced with Kara’s, the quiet beeping of monitors the only sound filling the stillness. The past few days had been a whirlwind of emotions, of fear and relief, of moments that had left Mallory questioning everything about what she wanted from life. But now, as she looked at Kara—injured but still here, still with her—the questions seemed irrelevant. All she could think about was the truth that had been buried deep inside her for so long.

She had been so afraid to admit what she felt, afraid of the vulnerability it would bring, of how it might change everything between them. But now, in this quiet, intimate moment, as she stared at Kara’s face—bruised but beautiful, eyes still heavy with exhaustion—she realized that the fear she’d been carrying wasn’t stronger than the need to finally say what had been building inside her for far too long.

---