Things You Save in a Fire - Katherine Center Page 0,112
They seemed not just okay with it but delighted—a whole crew of firefighter yentas.
Maybe they were just glad the rookie wasn’t dead.
Or maybe I’d misjudged them, too, in my way.
We really do see what we expect to see.
The rookie tugged me a little closer. “Come here.”
The room quieted as I stepped closer.
“I’ve got something for you,” the rookie said. Then he reached toward the tray where his breakfast still sat and he picked up a little silver ring.
Made of tinfoil.
I stared at it.
“I made it from the applesauce top,” he said, meeting my eyes. “It might be a little sticky.”
I held very still. “What’s this for?”
He held it up. “I promised myself that if I lived, the very first thing I’d do was ask you to marry me.”
“Guess he likes you back, Hanwell,” someone shouted.
“Will you marry me?” the rookie asked, holding up the tinfoil ring, his gaze pinned on mine.
I nodded before I could find the words. “I will.”
And then he was tugging me closer, and then sliding that homemade ring on my finger, and then he kissed my hand in a way that inspired the captain to start hustling everybody out of the room.
“All right, all right,” the captain said. “Let’s give these two kids a moment of privacy.” The rubberneckers weren’t easy to herd. “You!” The captain pointed at the closest guy to the door. “Let’s move!” Then, to another guy, “You! Out! Let’s go!”
Once the crowd cleared out, the captain put his arms around the final two stragglers, Big Robby and Colleen. “Let’s give Loverboy a minute and take you two for some coffee.”
The door closed behind them, and we were alone.
The rookie tugged at me to sit beside him. “Get down here.”
I let his bedrail down and sat. “They wouldn’t let me in to see you,” I said. “But I snuck in anyway.”
“I thought I dreamed that,” he said.
“No. It was real.”
I didn’t even realize my face was covered in tears until the rookie reached up to brush them off.
“I’m so glad you’re okay,” I said, and my voice was so shaky, the words trembled, too.
“Thank you for not letting me die,” Owen said.
“Thank you for not dying.”
“Thank you for agreeing to marry me.”
“Thank you for asking.”
“If I could lean forward and kiss you some more right now, I would.”
I smiled. “I’d kiss you back.”
He nodded. “But I can’t. You know—because of the ribs.”
“I get it,” I said.
“So if you want to get kissed,” he went on, eyeing me, “you have to do all the work yourself.”
I leaned in. “I don’t want to hurt you,” I said.
“But you do want to kiss me.”
“I really, truly do.”
“Be careful, then,” he said.
So I kissed him. Carefully. Supporting my weight on one arm, and resting the palm of my other hand against the contour of his unshaven neck. I could feel his pulse, simple and steady, and I let myself feel so grateful—so unabashedly grateful—that it was there.
When I pulled back to take in the sight of him, he said, “Don’t stop.”
“The captain says I have to go easy on you.”
“Don’t go easy on me.”
“I should probably let you rest.”
“Don’t let me rest.”
“I should probably go.”
“Definitely don’t go,” he said.
He looked tired, as if even just a little bit of flirting and kissing was enough to knock him out. But I didn’t want to go. Instead, I shifted to lie beside him in that skinny little bed, slow and careful not to hurt him anywhere, nestled between him and the railing.
When I finally got settled, my head against his shoulder, as if it were the most natural possible next step in the conversation, Owen said, “We should do it today.”
I lifted up my elbow. “Do what?”
He smiled and met my eyes. “Get married.”
“Here? In the hospital?”
“I’m sure they’ve got a chaplain or something.”
“No,” I said.
He met my eyes. “No, you won’t marry me?”
“No, I won’t marry you today. In a hospital.”
“Why not?”
“Because it’s too many good things at once. I want to keep something to look forward to.”
He smiled, lay back against the pillow, and closed his eyes. I laid my head beside him. I thought he was almost asleep when he said, “Trust me. You have so much to look forward to.”
“I agree,” I said.
But anything could happen. I knew that, too.
I knew too much about life to pretend that it wasn’t half tragedy. We lose the people we love. We disappoint each other. We misunderstand. We get lost and lonely and angry.