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Side stories may reveal events, characters, or developments that appear later in the story. Viewing content this way can present information out of the intended reading order and may affect the original narrative experience.
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Part 3 Chapter 18: Theme of Love
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A Fire that Filled the Night
Lucy had barely sat down before her sister pressed a mug of tea into her hands.
“Drink,” Anna said, like that would fix everything.
Lucy took it but didn’t sip.
She’d been on her feet since morning. The house had been full all evening. People coming and going, neighbors bringing food no one touched, relatives she hadn’t seen in years offering condolences for her father.
Her mother floated between conversations, keeping a polite smile on her face. Anna stayed close to her husband while their daughter dozed in a chair.
Now the house was emptying. The quiet crept in. She hadn’t thought about where Matt was in any of it. He’d been somewhere in the background, close enough that she felt him without having to look.
The last of the guests filed out, and there he was. At the kitchen counter, sleeves pushed up, drying a plate like it was any other day.
“You don’t have to stay.”
“I know.”
He was here because he wanted to be.
Lucy had no idea how to handle that.
She was used to people who needed space spelled out. Who didn’t read between the lines. Who needed her to say exactly what she wanted before they’d offer it.
Matt was just there.
“Mom was laughing about you earlier,” Anna said.
“Why?”
“She told Mrs. Henderson she’s known Matt since we were kids. Said, and I quote, ‘Lucy used to hustle that poor boy for chess games.’”
“I did not hustle him.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Alright. Maybe a little.”
“You took a cut of my winnings,” Matt said.
“You kept winning.”
He wasn’t the same boy she used to get in trouble with. Reliable back then, but never the type to take charge. Always a little too willing to follow her lead.
Somewhere along the way, he grew into someone who just handled things.
Lucy had no idea when she started depending on him.
The exhaustion hit all at once.
She hadn’t slept in days. Her body felt heavier than it should.
“Come on,” Matt said.
“Where?”
He tilted his head toward the door. She followed him through the kitchen, down the hall, out past the porch light.
The night air was crisp. Smelled like cut grass.
She’d been keeping him at arm’s length for weeks. They were dating, but she wasn’t letting it become more than that. Wasn’t letting herself decide.
Because Matt was a firefighter. And not just any firefighter. He was rescue squad. The ones sent into the worst of it, where every call was a gamble and not everyone came home.
And today she buried her father.
Would’ve been easier to write it off as nostalgia, old history. She hadn’t planned for liking him enough to be afraid of it.
She should tell him she was fine. That she wasn’t his responsibility.
But she didn’t.
Saying it now would mean choosing distance.
Matt wasn’t the kind of person you let in halfway. He showed up and stayed, even when you didn’t ask him to. The moment she leaned on him, it wouldn’t stop there.
The more she saw it, the harder it was to ignore what that meant.
But then Matt stood beside her, arm brushing against hers, and sighed. He wasn’t waiting for her to speak, or to decide, or to do anything at all.
Like he always was.
And suddenly it didn’t feel like a choice anymore. The risk, the safety, whether she was making the right call, whether she was stepping too far or not far enough.
None of it mattered.
It was just him.
She leaned into his side, resting her forehead against his shoulder.
Matt reached for her hand, threading his fingers through hers.
And Lucy closed her eyes.
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