My Maddie (Hades Hangmen #8) - Tillie Cole Page 0,80
Because I am his and he is mine, I thought. Our love transcended ailments and pre-existing conditions. When Rider concluded his explanation, I was confident he was correct in his assessment.
With Flame’s history of abuse, things were of course more complicated. But to me, this was Flame—the veritable love of my life. I did not want him to change. I adored him just the way he was… with one exception—I wanted him to break free from the shackles he was bound by. By the flames, snakes, the myriad horrors of his past, his poppa and his mama. This current episode I knew mainly stemmed from the memory of Isaiah.
I also knew that if Flame did not forgive himself for his baby brother’s death, he would keep falling. He would keep breaking… and he would never be free. It was time he breathed easier. It was time he liberated himself from the prison in which he was incarcerated.
I stared at the shadows from the fire as they danced on our bedroom walls. I imagined how a free Flame would behave. I thought of our child, laughing and running through the woods. And I saw Flame, also playing, running after them, his arms free from fresh scars, as he scooped her or him into his embrace and held our child to his chest. I saw our child smiling up at their papa, pure love in their eyes.
My breathing hitched as I imagined Flame kissing our child on the forehead as he spoke of his undying love. That she or he was the light of his life. I felt a tear run down my cheek. I quickly wiped away the tear and it broke my dream. But I would not forget. I would not let the hope for that life, for that Flame, to be erased from my mind. I knew, together, we could help him, we just needed to find our way. The path to that goal was blurred, overgrown with weeds and spiked branches. But we would walk forward, clearing each obstruction, piece by piece, until we could scramble through.
It was worth it.
It was necessary.
Suddenly, Flame’s hand twitched. I glanced down. His finger moved again. I quickly removed my hand from his, as a soft groan slipped from his mouth. My heart seemed to stop beating as his eyes began to flutter open. He no longer had the IV. I knew Flame would fall into a mad panic if he woke a needle in him. He would visualize himself thrust into the past when he had been admitted into hospital and tied to the bed. I wanted him to be calm and free from any unnecessary triggers when he finally opened his eyes.
Flame took a deep breath, his shoulders in sync with his inhale. I felt my hands trembling, but I did not move my head from the pillow. I stayed exactly where I was. Even if he did not know me, I knew he would not hurt me. Not Flame. Not me, his Maddie. Even lost in the tornado that was his mind, I knew he would detect the light I brought, and bring me no harm.
Flame exhaled softly, and then slowly opened his eyes. I stilled, waiting for the fog to clear in his mind and for him to see me. His black gaze roved around the room, adjusting to the dim light… then they fixed on me. I felt as though my heart stilled in anticipation. Flame’s gaze bore into mine. I did not know what it meant. I did not know if it was in relief or panic about who was before him.
I studied him so closely that, unexpectedly, I saw tears begin to build in his eyes. Heavy teardrops filled his beautifully dark eyes, then spilled over and tracked down his cheeks. Flame did not move. His face did not so much as twitch. His head did not rise from the pillow. Flame stayed exactly as he had been in sleep, except for the torrent of tears now racing down his pale face. Then—
“Maddie…” His deep voice was raw. It rasped as he whispered my name, as if I was the answer to his prayers.
“Flame,” I whispered back, my eyes blurring with hot tears of relief.
Flame knew me. He knew my name. My husband, the reason that I breathed, knew me. Within the fog and the darkness that had dragged him down… he recognized me. Flame had found me.