Page 63 of Embers in Our Souls
But a part of me realizes my happiness may have walked out the door days ago when Tyler and I parted ways. I’m still so angry, but now that days have passed, a part of my heart isaching in other ways as well. I’m not heartless. I’m hurting for him. No matter what, he’s still someone I care deeply for.
We shared many years together, even if we weren’t physically together. They were emotional years where we told our stories and life moments to one another through each letter. I feel like that part is so deep and sacred. Not only that, he’s a part of me, and now I’ve said goodbye to him.
Although I told him it’s over, it’s not so cut and dry. I have yet to call my divorce attorney to serve him with papers. I’m dragging my feet yet again. Why do we torture ourselves like this?
It doesn’t matter how much coffee I ingest, it’s futile. The day is dragging.
I slam the stack of papers and spin in my chair. The Boston skyline stares back at me, something I usually love to admire. I let my head fall back, taking in a breath, hoping it calms my nerves.
When will the world feel less heavy? When will life start to feel like it falls into place? I feel like since that night at the Hoover Dam, I’ve been chasing that solace and I haven’t found it yet. Every corner has felt like another hill to climb, yet I haven’t found any comfort.
There’s a knock on my office door, jolting me from my thoughts.
“Ms. Ranton, you have a visitor,” Angela interrupts me.
“I have no meetings right now,” I tell her.
“I’m aware, but he’s quite insistent.” Angela’s hesitation is grating on my nerves. The lack of sleep is really starting to seep into my ability to do my job.
Fucking Tyler. I knew he’d come back and a part of my heart feels a tug knowing he’s fighting for us, yet annoyance creeps in at the same time.
“What does he want?” I can’t help the irritation in my tone.
“Um, he says you’ll want to hear from him,” she says.
“Oh yeah? And why is that?” I push up from my chair, my words clipped. Angela has nothing to do with my soon-to-be-ex-husband’s lies, but I can’t help her being caught in the crossfires right now.
“Well, he said he has something for you that you might want to see,” she says, cowering and now I just feel bad at my poor behavior. She’s keeping herself slightly hidden behind the door, as if it will shield her from any verbal assault I’ll give her.
I need to rein it in because Angela is too kind to deserve my poor attitude.
“Sorry, Angela, you can let him in.” I wave at her.
She whispers something to the person at my door and soon, a large figure makes his way through. I’m rearranging the papers on my desk, busying myself, trying to show indifference, although my heart is going to leap out of my throat.
When I look up, I’m shocked to see someone that’s nothing like Tyler walking over to greet me. We’ve met a few times now, but I can’t remember his name. Last I saw him, it was at the hospital.
He’s got to be over six-foot five, a looming presence. Red hair and matching beard complete the look; making him look more like a lumberjack than firefighter. Shit, his shoulders rival those of a linebacker, and if he had an ax, I’d picture him in the middle of the woods.
“Hi!” I can’t hide my surprise.
A smile spreads across his burly face. “I assume from the look on your face, you expected someone else?” Reaching over, he extends his hand. “Malloy—I work with Hunter.”
Shaking his hand, I answer, “I remember. You called me when Tyler got hurt.”
“That’s right,” he continues, smiling. “I hope you don’t mind me stopping by. I know you’re probably really busy.”
He looks around my office, taking in my open space. His eyes land on my bookshelf and his eyes goes wide.
“Holy shit, is that Ana Clevesky? We just read her book last month in book club,” he walks over, enamored by my collection. “I devoured the entire series in three days.” He bends down and surveys the rest of my books.
Is this guy for real? This lumberjack reads romance? He’s kidding, right?
I can’t help the snort that escapes.
He looks over. “You think I’m kidding?” He motions. “May I sit down?”
I nod and he takes a seat on the other side of the desk. “I’m not judging your taste in books. It’s just uncommon to find a man reading romance. It’s—refreshing. That’s all.”
