From the Embers

by Aly Martinez

Having company in hell didn’t change the fact that you were still actually in hell.

That man—always a hugger. He rocked us from side to side, more like he was trying to calm a crying baby than slow dance. “We got this, Bree. Me and you. We got this.” And for the first time since our world had exploded, I felt like maybe he was right.

But carved into my soul for all my days to come was the life-altering moment when a naked photo of my wife appeared on the screen.

“You’re all I have left, Bree. And dammit, you were his too.” As he straightened, I fisted a hand in the front of his shirt. “No, I wasn’t. You know it as well as I do. I was a fucking puppet in his show, and I’m done wearing the strings.”

There were so many nights when everything hurt and I wasn’t sure I’d ever be able to breathe again. But there you were. With me every step of the way.” I tapped the screen again when it started to dim. “This picture, Bree. It’s not what we have to lose. It’s what I’ve already gained.”

But in those seconds, with our entire world sleeping on the couch, it felt like maybe there had been a purpose to the hell we’d had to endure to find each other.

Being in love with Eason Maxwell was the easiest thing I’d ever done. I’d spent so many years trying to build the perfect life with the perfect husband, the perfect kids, and the perfect company. But mastering the perception of perfect isn’t the same as finding genuine happiness.

Our bond might have been forged through tragedy, but our love flourished through patience, genuine respect, and understanding.