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After redressing his wounds, Blaze settles into my only chair. The wooden legs scrape across worn floorboards as he pullsit closer to my workbench. His presence behind me radiates warmth, a shield against memories of darker times.
“First rule of candle making—patience.” My fingers drift over jars of essential oils, each a different possibility. “Rush it, and the whole thing falls apart.”
The clatter of metal against metal fills the small space as I arrange my supplies: double boiler, thermometer, and the tools of my trade laid out with practiced precision.
“Like tactical planning.” His breath tickles my neck as he leans forward. “Every step matters.”
Soy wax pellets cascade into the metal pitcher, the sound like gentle rain. “Exactly. Temperature control is crucial. Too hot, the scent burns off. Too cool, it won’t bind properly.”
His hand settles on my hip as I work, thumb tracing idle patterns. The touch grounds me and keeps the tremors at bay as memories of the past few days threaten to surface.
“This is lavender.” I uncap a small bottle, holding it over my shoulder. “My best seller when I could sell them.”
A sharp inhale, then his voice drops lower. “Smells like you.”
Heat crawls up my neck. The wax begins to melt, transforming from solid to liquid. Like me, it’s becoming something new under his touch.
“The trick is adding the fragrance at just the right moment.” Water bubbles gently beneath the double boiler. “Too soon or too late…”
“And it all falls apart.” His lips brush my shoulder. “You’ve got good instincts.”
“Survival instincts, maybe.”
“Hey.” His fingers catch my chin, turning my face toward him. Pain flashes across his features at the movement, but his eyes stay locked on mine. “You’re more than a survivor.”
The wax reaches temperature—perfect timing to avoid the building emotion in my chest. I measure the oil with shaking hands, watching it swirl into molten wax.
“Watch.” My voice steadies as I pour the mixture into a waiting mold. “This is the part that requires faith. Believing it’ll become something beautiful, even when you can’t see it yet.”
“Like us?” His arms wrap around my waist, careful of both our injuries.
“Maybe.” The word catches in my throat. “If you think we could be beautiful.”
“We already are.” His chin rests on my shoulder as we watch the wax begin to cool. “Everything else is just—setting.”
The candle takes shape slowly, transforming from liquid to solid. Each minute that passes brings it closer to its final form. Like us, it’s changing into something new.
Something stronger.
His phone buzzes, and Aria Holbrock’s name lights up the screen. Past and future collide in a single moment.
“Hello?” he answers, head tilting as he listens. “She is…” He holds his phone out to me. “Aria wants to talk to you.”
“Me?” I back away, holding my hands up. “What would she want with me?”
Blaze chuckles and hands me the phone. “You should ask her.”
The phone feels heavy in my hand. “What do I say?”
“How about ‘hello’ for starters?” His laugh turns into a grunt of pain. “Small steps, remember?”
Small steps.
Like making candles.
Healing.
Learning to trust in a future I never thought I’d have.