Page 8 of The Flames Between Us

"We miss you out there," he says simply. "Team's not the same without you in the thick of it."

After he's gone, I stay outside a while longer, processing. The night sounds—crickets and the wind in the trees—fill the space where my thoughts tangle. I close my eyes, trying Everly's exercise again.

This time, I push past the initial reaction—the tightness, the cold, the shortness of breath—and try to follow it deeper. Where is this coming from? What am I really feeling beneath the physical symptoms?

The answer bubbles up unexpectedly: shame. Not just guilt over Henderson, but shame at being seen as weak. At letting down my team. At not living up to the identity I've built over fifteen years.

My eyes snap open. Is that what Everly meant by awareness? This uncomfortable recognition of emotions I've been burying beneath anger and avoidance?

I rejoin the poker game with a clearer head, lasting another hour before calling it a night. Lewis walks me to my truck, lingering as I unlock the door.

"It's good to see you out," he says. "Was starting to think you'd become a hermit."

"Just needed time," I reply, though we both know it's been more than that.

"You going back? To Dr. Morgan?"

I pause, hand on the door handle. "Yeah. In two days."

Lewis nods, satisfied. "Good. She must be something special to get you to willingly see a therapist."

"She's doing her job," I say, more defensively than intended.

My brother raises his hands in mock surrender, a knowing smile playing on his lips. "Whatever you say. Just glad it's working."

I drive home with the windows down, letting the cold air clear my head. Lewis's insinuation nags at me—the idea that my willingness to return has anything to do with Everly herself rather than my determination to get back to full duty.

Sure, she wasn't what I expected. She doesn't fit the mental image I had of a stern, clinical psychologist with clipboard and condescending tone. Instead, she's warm and direct, with curves that her professional attire doesn't quite conceal and eyes that see more than I'm comfortable revealing.

But that's not why I'm going back. I'm going back because I need my job back. My life back. The person I was before Henderson.

Two Days Later

I find myself back in front of the brick building that houses Dr. Morgan's practice. I'm ten minutes early this time—no circling the block, no sitting in the truck debating whether to go in. Progress, I suppose.

The same receptionist greets me with a smile of recognition. "Dr. Morgan will be ready for you shortly. Would you like water or tea today?"

"Water's fine," I answer, surprising both of us with the acceptance.

I take the same chair as last time, sipping from the paper cup and watching the clock tick toward our appointment time. The waiting room is empty except for me. I wonder vaguely about Everly's other patients—do they all come carrying the weight of people they couldn't save, or do some have more ordinary problems?

At precisely 2:00, her door opens.

"Ollis," she says, my name sounding softer in her voice than I'm used to hearing it. "Come in."

She's wearing a deep blue wrap dress today, her dark hair loose around her shoulders instead of pulled back like last time. The glasses are the same, as is the attentive expression behind them. I follow her into the office, taking my seat from before.

"How have you been since our last session?" she asks, settling across from me.

"Fine," I reply right away, then catch myself. "Actually, that's not entirely true. I've been...noticing things. Like you suggested."

Something that might be approval flickers in her eyes. "Tell me about that."

I shift in my seat, uncomfortable with how eager I suddenly am to share these observations with her. "It's the physical reactions, like you said. Chest gets tight. Breathing changes. Cold feeling in my gut."

She nods encouragingly. "And when do these sensations occur?"

"When I think about the fires. When someone mentions Henderson. When we get too close to talking about why I can't go back in." I pause, then add, "And when I feel like I'm letting the team down."

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