The panic in his eyes was my undoing. I held on tightly to his hand when he tried to pull away. I would not let him go. I was never going to let him go. “And yet I did not burn.” Flame held his breath, lines of confusion around his eyes expressing to me his disbelief. Pressing my hand over his heart, I asserted, “You rescued me, Flame.” I smiled a small smile, pressing my hand to my stomach. “You saved us both.”
Flame’s eyes widened. “Next time…” He shook his head. “You might burn. I don’t want the flames to get you. I don’t want to be in the fire anymore. I don’t want to be in the fire.”
“Flame,” I placed my hand on the side of his cheek. “If you are in the fire, then I shall be in the fire beside you. I am holding your hand. I am sharing the flames that live in your blood, sharing your burden. And if you burn, we shall burn together.”
“I… I don’t wanna burn anymore.”
“Then we shall survive,” I added. “No, we will thrive.”
“I can feel them now,” he uttered, panic setting on his beautiful features. His muscles began to twitch. I knew he would next reach for his knife. His eyes glistened with fear. “I feel them, Maddie. I can feel them.”
Keeping my heartache hidden, I moved from the bed, my bare feet landing on the cold floor. “Come with me,” I said and steered Flame away from the bed. He was weak when he stood up. I knew he was exhausted, all fight drained from his limbs. But he followed me slowly, and without question. He followed me to the bathroom where I kept hold of his hand. I turned on the bath’s faucet and pressed in the plug. Water began to fill the tub. Flame’s feet began to move, his legs urging him to pace. The fingers on his free hand twitched. I knew he wanted to scratch his skin.
Turning to face him, I placed my hand on his cheek. “Do you trust me?” Flame nodded without delay. I smiled when I heard his quick inhale of breath. He squeezed me tighter. Flame was frightened and bruised and so out of his depth. The water was lukewarm, thankfully the room was warmed by the fire in the adjoining room.
Releasing Flame’s hand, my knees almost buckled when he tried to hold on. I stayed close, leaning in to kiss above his heart once again. Flame’s fingers threaded through my hair. And I would never forget how he looked at me—like I was his everything, his why. I began to untie the drawstring of his pants. Flame hissed as I gently pulled them down his waist. The pants fell to the floor. Flame’s dark stare was fixed on mine. I witnessed the fear he held inside, the belief that he would hurt me. With his hand still softly placed in my long black hair, I edged up my nightdress inch by inch until I moved his hand briefly to pull the garment over my head.
“Maddie,” Flame rasped when the nightdress fell to the floor. I stood naked before him. Flame’s eyes inspected me, but my heart broke a little when he averted his gaze from my baby bump. I understood everything in life was overwhelming him right now. I had to heal him first, then bring him back from his desolation. I would fight for Flame as a father, to show him he was capable of love and that he could embrace our baby. I turned off the water and linked my fingers through Flame’s. I climbed into the large tub and Flame followed. I guided him to sit down. He did so without question. Flame’s eyes were wide as he watched me intently. Taking a washcloth, I dipped it into the water and brought it to his chest.
“Maddie,” Flame warned as I wiped it down his chest, the lukewarm water trickling down his wounds. Flame’s eyes closed, obviously feeling the water soothe his skin. He had told me the pain of his flames began in his heart. Rider had sought out a friend, someone who worked with people like Flame. Rider told me that Flame cut his arms to draw the pain from somewhere else…
His heart.
My husband’s heart was broken. His father shattered it years ago and now I knew it had not fully healed. According to Rider, it may never fully heal. There was always the danger that Flame might break again. I knew that to be true. Flame had broken when Isaiah died. He had broken when he had seen a child almost killed… and this recent decent began when I told him I was pregnant.
I closed my eyes, realization sweeping through me like a torrent. Isaiah… it was all related to Isaiah. Every breakdown, every fear he had emanated from his baby brother, who had died so tragically in his arms. Flame’s cruel poppa blamed the flames and the evilness as the cause. Such sadness washed over me I knew I would not be able to hold back the sadness. In the forest, he had called Asher, ‘Isaiah’. Believed Isaiah had come back to him. For what reason, I did not know.
“Maddie?” Flame’s hoarse and panicked voice cut into my reverie. I opened my eyes. My vision was blurred by falling tears. Flame spotted them too. His hands had been on my waist. He pulled them back as though they were the reason for my pain.
Leaning forward, I pressed my forehead against his. It was unfair that a man as pure as Flame was so tortured. It was unfair that he had to wake each morning, believing those he loved would be hurt by his hand. And it was unfair that his baby brother had died in his arms, with Flame crying out in vain for help. Flame had watched his brother’s breathing change until it expired on the eleventh exhale. And he sat with Isaiah. Flame had been left in the cellar as his baby brother slowly turned cold, then to be ripped from his arms and discarded like garbage, no grave or marker, no opportunity for Flame to say his goodbyes.
“I love you,” I whispered through my tightening throat. I cupped both of Flame’s cheeks. “You are a good man, baby. You are my universe. You are my light and my reason for living. Do you understand this, Flame?” I met Flame’s eyes. His gaze lowered, taking my hopeful heart with it.
“I’m evil. The flames…” he trailed off.
“What if the flames are not evil, but brilliant bursts of light? Light that brings good to those you love?” Flame’s eyes focused on the bath water. What if your poppa and the church were both wrong? What if the flames were not devil-cursed, but instead were beacons of good awarded to you by God? Reassurance that you are not damned, but instead blessed. Blessed, because you have endured too much. Blessed and deserving of a happy life after the evil thrust upon you as an innocent child, corrupted by men.”
I gripped Flame’s cheeks harder, needing, begging him to understand. His eyes still did not meet mine. My heart raced in fear of my words not having any effect. “Baby…” I whispered, looking at the wounds and many scars on his skin. “What if the flames are keeping back the darkness? What if they are not meant to be extinguished, but fueled?” I was exhausted. But I had to fight… I had to fight to save the man I adored.
Flame lifted his head. His cheeks were red, his eyes swollen and bloodshot from all the tears shed. “I was told I was evil,” was all he said. But in his tone, I caught a glimmer of hope. Hope that maybe I was right. That maybe he believed he might not damned after all.
“Evil is the absence of goodness. Flame, love of my life. You are filled with goodness. You shine so brightly with goodness.”
Flame’s gaze shifted. He blinked, his tears falling away. There was no expression on his face. But I knew my husband. I knew by the reflection in his eyes that something I said had gotten through. Flame was fixated with flames, with the fire he believed would never leave his blood.