fireproof

She nodded at him, then, desperate to keep him actively engaged with her. The unspoken question lingering in the air, the weight of the unknown, pressed down on both of them. Gabby had not been very loose with details, but Grace had inferred enough — and knew enough — to have been able to parse what happened. Something about Sam having made that decision, however, didn’t fully sit right with her, and the more she tried not to think about it, the louder the thoughts became. He had children. A lovely wife. A happy home. He had been someone Caleb had leaned on during the worst time of his life. A trusted confidant. A source of wisdom. He had been Caleb's ally in every sense of the word, and, because of that, Grace had felt wholly indebted to him, so incredibly grateful just to have someone else, besides her and Caleb's grandparents, who saw Caleb for how hurt he was and just wanted to help him. Without Sam, his persistent goodness, she wasn't sure what Caleb would be, now.

Grace’s eyes burned, and she blinked quickly, rushing to wipe her cheeks with the back of her hand. “Sorry. I’m —“ she shook her head, clearing her throat. “We’ll be there. We’ll do what we need to do.”

That was all she could promise, realistically: that they would take care of it. Of Sam, of Gabby, of their kids. That they’d get through it, and they’d do what they could. She began thinking of things she could do, meals they could make and pack, weekend trips they could take. Grace had tried many times to tell Sam how grateful she was for him, and each occasion led to him brushing her off gently. She had long sought to repay her debt to him. The idea that this was how she could made her sick to her stomach. Grace watched Caleb’s expression, her heart in her throat. She stepped closer, letting her free hand come to rest against Caleb's cheek.

“I’m so sorry, baby. I’m so, so sorry.”

"I talked to him yesterday." Caleb stated quietly, the disbelief still laden in his tone of voice. It was then that he finally gave in to Grace's touch, reaching out to hold her back in turn. His anchor in the storm they now found themselves in. "He sounded the same. Nothing, uh..." Caleb found himself, in that moment, considering every single interaction he'd had with Sam in recent history. Every detail he'd offered, every topic of conversation. There was nothing Caleb could point to, nothing at all he could claim he'd missed.

Sam had been... Sam. Most conversations surrounded Gabby and the kids, or whatever project Caleb had been working on. Mentions of excitement over Caleb and Grace's impending nuptials, and everything in-between. Sam is who Caleb had spent his adult life with — Grace and Gabby had only gotten fractions of their time in comparison.

"Baby, I don't —" Caleb felt the lump in his throat shift, and then the sting of fresh tears. "I don't know what to do." The statement was raw, earnest, and, a blink of an eye after saying it, Caleb felt a sob heave his entire body, a wretched gasp for air following.

"Gabby called me at work," she murmured, trying to find her way around the words, trying to make them make sense. There was no right way to go about it, but if there was some method by which she could lessen the impact, she was desperate to find it. She could feel her throat thickening with emotion, and she worked to swallow, ignoring the prickling in her eyes. "It's...it's Sam. He's..." Grace's voice broke gently, and she worked to regain her composure, quickly clearing her throat. She didn't know how else to say it. She thought of Gabby's voice, of her script, vague and rehearsed. There was so much gray area in what she presented, but Grace knew enough to fill in any gaps - and she knew Caleb would, too. "He's gone, love."

Caleb's hand instinctively went to cup her elbow as her hand fell to grasp his bicep. He didn't know what to make of the words that well from her lips. Gone. They didn't make any sense to him.

No, Sam was the solid one. Sam was the one that all the guys could lean on. He was Caleb's brother, not by some random accident, but forged by the fires of warfare. In many respects, Sam knew Caleb better than anyone ever could, because they had triumphed together, suffered together.

Sam, more than anyone else, was who had guided Caleb to the resources he'd desperately needed after being discharged. It was Sam who took weekends away from his growing family to drive up from Fort Wayne, Indiana, to see Caleb. Sam who, at Caleb's request, had even come to work on the house they now stood in a handful of times since they'd purchased it.

Sam who was magnanimous, a leader, a team player. Who loved his wife and children desperately. Who Caleb had followed back into war time and time again, because he loved him. But by the look in Grace's eyes, he knew the answer to the question he dare not speak aloud.

It had been a normal day, until it wasn't any longer.

"Okay." Caleb nodded, a glazed over look in his eyes as his gaze drifted, his mind filled with a thousand different thoughts and emotions, none of them good. "What did Gabby say? When is..." He couldn't say it. Couldn't say the word funeral, or any other derivative. Could hardly find any words at all, really.

When Grace happened to catch her phone ringing during sixth period, she had assumed, not entirely foolishly, that it was her mother. She’d left her ringer on for this very reason, and often had her phone perched on a music stand or in a pocket of a sweater, ever vigilant for the call that her father was declining or something had happened So when the screen flashed with the name of a woman she hadn’t spoken to in some time, Grace almost didn’t answer, assuming it could wait. But the oddness of it all — the timing, the fact that it wasn’t just a text — piqued Grace’s interest, and she excused herself from a rather casual class by her standards to step into the hall.

The words rushed out of Gabby’s mouth with such ordinary quickness that Grace struggled to make sense of them, and she almost told her to repeat herself. Gabby’s voice was low and pained, but the refrain almost sounded rehearsed. Grace turned it over in her head.

Sam is gone, Grace. The funeral is Friday.

Sam is gone.

Sam.

Caleb’s best friend. The man he marched back into hell for.

Grace assured Gabby’s they’d make the trip and get there. She didn’t remember hanging up. She didn’t really remember the rest of the day, really— it all seemed consumed by her suffocating fear: she would have to tell Caleb. She would have to tell Caleb, and whatever happened after that would have to happen.

…

Grace was relieved not to be met with the sight of Caleb in the garage when she pulled into the driveway; this afforded her an extra moment to attempt to gain some composure. She took a few steadying breaths, feebly, uselessly, and then turned the key in the ignition.

Whatever happened after this would have to happen.

This was an inevitable and unavoidable truth, Grace knew. The worse truth for her was that she wasn’t aware how they were going to navigate it. Caleb had shouldered so much grief, whether consciously or not. He was shaped so wholly by loss, by absence, by longing and sadness. To lose the person he loved so deeply that he re-enlisted for a fourth tour and nearly lost his life to keep him safe was not something Grace knew if he could readily handle. Any one thing could be the thing. Any one sadness could be too much to handle. And Grace, selfishly, was afraid to lose him again.

She pushed open the front door, letting Peanut get her excitement out first, giving her a thorough pat down before heading toward the kitchen to deposit her bags. “Baby?” She called through the house, her voice lacking its usual excitement, instead colored by reticence. “I’m home.”

No variables, no surprises.

He had heard Grace's car in the driveway at the same moment Peanut had, letting the dog abandon him from his position on the couch, electing to finish the page he'd been on in his book before closing it and setting it aside. "In here!" Caleb replied, slowly rising from the comfort of the cushions to meet her where she stood in the kitchen.

But something was... demonstrably wrong. Her demeanor, the lack of color in her face. Surely, if something had happened with her father, she wouldn't have stopped home first to tell him. She certainly wouldn't have finished the work day. "What's wrong?" Caleb probed, unsure if he should take her up into his arms, or allow her her space.

She pulled her head back to meet Caleb’s eyes, reading his expression, trying to observe any semblance of uncertainty; she found none. He met her gaze directly, unwavering. She blinked, using his soft, steadying breath to ground herself, the feeling of his chest moving against her body settling her, anchoring her in the moment. “I love you,” she murmured, voice resolute. “I love you. And I love our life. And I need you to know that. If…if it doesn’t work out, and a baby doesn’t happen, or—or the wedding is nightmare, and my mom ruins it, or…whatever. I love you. And I’ll be happy. I’ll be happy because it’s with you.” She let her eyes linger on him, her expression somewhat grave. “Do you know that?”

"I love you too." He replied, a solemn promise. "I don't want to think about what could go wrong." Caleb replied with a soft look in his eyes, his hand slowly rubbing circles into her back. "I think we've had enough pain. I'd, uh... I'd like to think that, anyway." Caleb found no comfort in his own emotions, and rarely tried to delve below the surface. But his expressions, in this moment, felt entirely earnest, if still uncomfortable. "It should come as no surprise that I, uh, don't care much for the details of how you get down the aisle to me. So there's not a thing your mother could ruin. 'Cause my eyes will be on you." His hand abandoned her back to tuck under her chin, keeping her eyes on him as he continued to speak. "I promise, I will spend the rest of my life trying to have been worth waiting for. I promise."

They had only ever discussed children a couple of times, and, for Grace, neither conversation seemed particularly worth investing a great deal of credence. The concept always seemed so mercurial and abstract to her, and the possibility of it inched further away from her over the years as Caleb made the decision to leave for more tours. She had only ever outwardly named this longing to Caleb once, as she argued with him one night before his fourth tour. It was a selfish, desperate bid to tempt him to stay with her. He didn’t.

When he finally came back, it was after nearly losing his life, and Grace’s imperative had wholly shifted to become keeping him afloat, meeting his needs — her focus became making it through each day, not the rest of her life. And with the added responsibility of her father, children had fallen out of her consideration entirely. Some dreams, she knew, were just not meant to be, and she could busy herself enough to ignore this one, to numb the ache in her.

“That would make sense, to have the guest room down there,” she murmured, painstakingly working to keep her tone even and measured; her heart felt as though it sat at the base of her throat. She turned her face for a moment to look at the ceiling, as if she was considering their options — in truth, she was working hard to suppress the burn of her eyes, and looking at Caleb only exacerbated the sudden flood of emotions. “It would probably be good for Di, too, if she comes and stays. Although I’m not — she keeps dodging me on that.” She blinked hard a few times, forcing the few welling tears out so she could quickly catch them with her fingertip as surreptitiously as she could manage. Then she turned her head back to face Caleb’s gaze, taking a deep, steadying breath; a soft, embarrassed smile curled her lips. When she finally worked up the nerve to speak, it was in a careful whisper. “Are you sure?”

"I can't think of anything I'd like more." He promised, his hand shifting from the small of her back to caress her cheek. Caleb's thumb swiped at a wayward tear she'd missed, not drawing any more attention to it than that, as he could sense her embarrassment. He did feel a great sense of shame in having been the cause of this dream being deferred. He'd never wanted to get married while he was still serving, and, while he could argue that it had been for the best to wait, he knew that some windows were beginning to close. He could step up and seize the opportunity now, or watch as Grace pretended it didn't break her heart. And, as Caleb had discovered, it would break his heart, too. What a breakthrough in therapy that had been.

It had been Hannah's idea to meet at Public Espresso— casual, open, and neutral ground. The kind of place where conversations could be both inconsequential and significant, depending on how you let them unfold. She'd sent the text a few days ago— got Caleb's number from Grace, kept the message short, polite, and maybe a little vague. Just said she had something she wanted to run by him. Nothing urgent. Nothing heavy.

Now she sat near the back, tucked in a corner booth with a view of the door, her untouched coffee growing colder by the minute. A half-hearted attempt at people-watching filled the time, more of a distraction than anything meaningful. Every few seconds, her gaze ticked toward the entrance like clockwork.

When the door finally opened and she spotted him, her posture straightened, a quiet breath catching before she could smooth it out. It was almost certainly nerves. She hadn't seen him since that morning in her kitchen. Since coffee and quiet and the kind conversation that lingered in the background for days after. She stood halfway as he approached, offering a small smile that didn't try too hard. "Hey," she said, voice light, casual— too casual? Maybe. "Thanks for meeting me. I figured this was better than texting awkward paragraphs."

And Caleb had never been curious before.

As he made his way into the coffee shop, he didn't miss a beat between entering and his gaze finding Hannah. "Don't get up," Caleb replied to her greeting, slipping into the spot opposite her as he awkwardly settled in. A hand brushed at his stubble, avoiding her gaze for a moment before finally settling it on her, offering a half-smile. "I was already downtown, it worked out fine." He assured as he settled into his chair.

He glanced up at the coffee bar, but, after a moment's thought, knew he'd had more than enough caffeine for the day. "I don't know if I'm the right person for anything, but uh... Fire away. I would be happy to help if I can."

"Yeah, actually. I would love to see the house." Gabe took an enthusiastic step forward, "You know, I don't think I've ever toured a property you've worked on." Bright eyes settled over the home before him. Caleb had taken special consideration with each detail, he was sure. "Maybe I've never seen very much of what you've worked on, ever." Gabriel laughed, crossing the driveway following Caleb inside.

"Building out a house is crazy, man." He'd meant it heartedly- both light, and whole. "This is going to be your home. All of this, by your own hand." Gabe moved through the room, careful not to help himself beyond Caleb's gaze. He didn't want to push him too far, too fast. "I imagine Grace is ready to go now, too. Finally, eh?"

His gaze jumped across the room to Caleb- because, well, he was never really sure which jests were likely to land.

He appreciated that, at the least, Gabriel had never been pushy when it came to trying to establish a better rapport. And he didn't necessarily see his stopping by as an intrusion, just... Different. He'd never before gone out of his way to spend time with his brother, unless it was over a holiday meal. "Oh, sure. I think she'd like a house full of kids as soon as possible." Caleb half-joked, glancing around the empty space with a bit of self-appreciation. Gabe was right — this was his own handiwork. "Which is, uh... Fine by me." Caleb looked over at Gabriel, feeling the tension fade as he leaned into the interaction, as unexpected as it was. "You guys never, uh..."

Caleb caught himself, pausing and shaking his head. "Sorry, I didn't mean to, uh... Well. That's a personal thing." Clearing his throat, Caleb gestured toward the hallway, which lead towards what would likely be the living room once furniture had been moved in.

She nodded, weighing his words, enjoying the feeling of his hand on around her middle, the pressure of his lips against her skin, the way his bright eyes still shone in the dark as he pulled away. She inched closer, and, with a smile, snaked her arm under the hem of his shirt, her grin blooming into something more sinister as he huffed in displeasure at the intrusion of her freezing hand against his bare skin. Moving her hand around his back and over his shoulder blade, Grace's fingers inched toward a familar scar, and she ran her fingertips over it gently as she blinked, taking Caleb in. "And you're saying that after carrying fifteen boxes of shit up the stairs. Imagine how good you'll feel after a couple of ibuprofen and a hot shower." She flattened her palm against his shoulder blade, giving it a small rub. "I can unpack more this weekend," she insisted, emphasis on the I. "And figure out the rest of the painting. I might ask Diana for help with that, though. She's good with that stuff."

"Did you decide which room you wanted for the guest room?" He posed the question nonchalantly. "I'd assume you'd want the room next to this for, uh..." Caleb trailed off for just a moment. "Well, a nursery." Just as Grace was gauging his demeanor, he know look to her expression in the dark, wondering what she'd think of the remark, or, rather, suggestion.

She blinked, eyes lingering perhaps a second or two too long on Caleb's, and, before he could open his mouth to speak - to ask her what was the matter - she beat him to the punch. With a small smile, she gazed up at him. "How are you feeling?" Her voice was small; she was slightly embarrassed to even be asking, feeling as though it was marring this perfect thing, threatening to burst the bubble of perfect happiness she existed within when the pair of them were in bed, together. But there had been so much shifting in their lives, so many moving pieces never coming to settle; it felt irresponsible not to at least check in. The symbiosis of their relationship would not allow Grace to enjoy this without ensuring that Caleb was right there with her. "Are you okay?"

"If I had a problem you'd know about it." Caleb then promised, trying to meet her sincerity with his own. He struggled, even with Grace, to open up completely. "But I'm good. More than good. This is all, uh... exactly what I needed." He tightened his grip on her waist, pressing himself against her as he moved to press his face into her neck, taking in a deep breath. After a moment, he'd place a kiss against her artery and then withdraw, just enough that his gaze could meet hers again. "Not everything about life can be perfect. But this slice of it feels pretty damn close."

Moving was always an objectively exhausting undertaking, but, in tandem with work and her father, Grace felt tired on a molecular level. While stacks of boxes still sat in the corners of almost every room, she and Caleb had mutually decided they were done for the night, and, as the sun began to set, Grace finished loading the dishwasher from dinner, finding it all-too-easy to assimilate to a new routine and all that came with it - she tried not to place too much weight in it all, into the optimism it stoked within her, but she found that, most days, the only thing she looked forward to was coming through this doorway, knowing what waited for her on the other side.

Grace dried her hands, setting the dishwasher to run, then ambled across the house to come to plod up the stairs. "Baby?" she called, not entirely sure where he managed to putter off to, and came to the top of the stairs half-expecting to see him hanging a shelf or unpacking a box or otherwise being generally helpfull. She was delighted, then, to come to their bedroom door and find him - in complete darkness, strewn across the bed, his arm tossed over his eyes. She smirked, wordlessly crossing the space between them and coming to sit next to him, then leaning back to rest so their bodies laid parallel. "I was about to say something about you being lazy for not putting the sheets on first, and then I remembered the splinters are still fresh from you, like, building this house, so I'll hold that for another day."

"Oh, god." Caleb groaned as Grace discovered him, an eye peeking out from under his arm as he watched her lower herself beside him. "I thought this was a good hiding spot." His head tilted to the opposite direction, looking at the box labeled 'bedroom, linens' on the floor. "I built the damn bed frame, isn't that enough?" He let out a soft groan of effort as he rolled to his side to face Grace, a hand reaching over to brush the hair that had fallen over her face. "Thanks for cleaning up after dinner." Caleb murmured before pressing a kiss against her collar bone. "And, can I just say... This mattress is a hell of a lot better than yours. If I had to hazard a guess, I'd say..." Caleb thought carefully. "It's probably the same mattress you took my virginity on. It's time for that thing to get burned."

"I think I've always known I was the square peg," she admitted, letting out a small sigh. "I think I held the record for most interruptions during Sunday service as a kid. But yeah, the distance can really bring some clarity. How much was me, and how much was them, and what was in the middle." His insight to being the black sheep made Diana wonder if he was speaking from experience, as well. Perhaps they were more alike than she'd thought.

His offer to host Diana for the foreseeable future in the home that Caleb and Grace were building together was so thoughtful that it took Diana aback for a moment. She blinked, processing the offer, and then tilted her head slightly as she pondered why on earth he would extend such a kindness. His love for her sister must be so big, Diana thought, that it somehow extended consideration to her as well. "That's really kind of you," she replied, and took another sip of her drink. "I'll think about it, and let you know." Not an automatic acceptance, but not a refusal, either. She couldn't deny having the space from her parents would be beneficial, but it did seem to defeat the purpose of coming back here at all.

"Think about it, don't think about it. Split your time, whatever. The room will be there, there'll be a bed in it. You can use it or not use it. Grace already told me that I can expect to be kicked out of my own bed for uh... sleepovers, so." He was amused and endeared by Grace and Diana's relationship, though it never moved him to want to be closer to Gabriel. No, Caleb had his brothers, the ones he'd been molded into a man alongside, and that band of brothers was more than he'd ever need.

"I think it's great you're here, y'know." He offered with a glimmer of appreciation in his eyes. "Grace will probably never say how much she needed it. You're her, uh... Well. You're kind of like her baby, or whatever. I think that's how she put it. But I know she really needed you around. I can't fill that gap, y'know. I can give your dad a sponge bath, which I have, but uh... You know. You're her sister. It's different."

"I'm really glad you told me that," she said finally, her voice soft but sure. There was no pity in her tone, only a quiet understanding, a shared recognition. "Because I think people forget— how hard it is to come back. From something like that. To start over and try to make sense of things that don't translate anymore."

She hesitated, fingers curling around her coffee mug again. "That's what a lot of my clients are doing too. Trying to come back to a world that isn't really built for them anymore. And you're right— it takes a toll. Some days it's... heavy. When they fall back into old patterns, or when I can't reach them in time. But I guess that's why I stay." Her smile was faint, but present, the kind that came with knowing. "Because sometimes, they do make it. And you remember why you keep showing up."

Hannah tilted her head slightly, the corners of her mouth lifting with something gentler, something not quiet a smile but close. "I think what you do is meaningful, Caleb. You're building something from the ground up. That's not nothing. You found a way forward and that counts." Then, a slight huff of laughter left her as she shook her head. "And for the record— Gabe would hate that description," she said, amusement tugging at her expression. "But... yeah. That's kind of exactly how it feels. Like I'm walking behind him with a broom and a bucket."

She looked at him again then, her voice softening once more. "But you... you get it. Maybe more than most." A pause. "I think I needed that today."

He had lost friends along the way — not just fellow Marines in the line of duty, but, more sinisterly, from diseases of the mind, when they were far from danger, but instead at home, surrounded, in most instances, by those who cared. Still, to bridge the gap… Caleb knew all too well how slippery of a slope it was. What Hannah didn’t see, and Caleb wouldn’t betray, is how deeply he struggled, how he knew he always would. How, on lesser days, he had wondered if anything at all was remotely worthwhile. “Well,” Caleb cleared his throat, offering Hannah a reserved smile. “This wasn’t uh, how I expected the day to go, but, uh…” He trailed off, summoning the right words. If he were ever capable of them, anyway. “I’m not much of a talker. I guess I’m not very sentimental, either. So, I don’t know what to say other, than, well… It was nice to meet you, I suppose.” Because, in the ways that mattered, this was their first real introduction to one another in the decade and a half that Hannah had been in the ‘picture’, and, while Caleb didn’t bear any sense of regret in not giving her a chance sooner, he didn’t find that the time they’d spent talking had felt like any bit of an imposition.

He opened his mouth to say more, but the sound of a car horn broke his gaze from Hannah, his gaze drifting in the direction of the front door. “Well, that’s my queue.” Caleb stood slowly from chair. “Thank you, for the coffee.”

Caleb: 🙂