He tapped on the steering wheel. “It was like that day sealed me into an impossible fate. To spend the rest of my life avoiding everything about fires—and to be duty-bound to join the fire service.”
“Why are you duty-bound to join?”
A little shrug. “My dad wants me to.”
“It’s your apology,” I said.
“It’s the shittiest apology ever, but it’s all I’ve got.”
I studied him a second. “You just want to bake cookies.”
“Pretty much.”
“But you can’t. Or you think you can’t.”
“I brought my dad indescribable grief.”
“Are you atoning for the fire?”
He gave the tiniest shrug. “He’s still grieving, in a way, my dad. Even now. If there’s anything I can do, I have to do it.”
“I get that,” I said, and I really did. I wasn’t sure I agreed with it, but I got it.
“I’ve never told anyone the whole story like that,” Owen said then. “I can’t tell you how strange it feels.” He let out a big breath.
“You were a kid, you know. Kids do stupid stuff all the time. It was an accident.”
“That may be true. But my uncle Ryan is still dead. My dad’s only brother. Because of me.”
I wondered if maybe he was emphasizing the wrong parts of the story. “That’s just such a burden for a kid to carry.”
“I’m not a kid anymore.”
“Foranyoneto carry.”
He nodded. “Anyway, that’s why I can’t quit the fire department. That’s why I have to win that spot—even though I know you deserve it more. If the captain gives it to me, I have to take it. This is my dad’s dream. And I have to make sure he gets it.”
“Maybe your dad’s dream is just for you to be happy.”
The rookie looked at me like I was so wrong it was almost cute. “Nope. Firefighter first, happy second.”
“You are talking to a person who has watched you turn pale, faint, or throw up on every medical call. Sometimes all three.”
He let out a long breath. “I don’t know what else to do.”
“Well, first of all, I’d find yourself a therapist.”
“Did that already,” he said, like he’d already checked it off the list. “Third grade. I didn’t speak at all for almost a year after the fire, and they made me see a grief expert twice a week.”
“Did you talk about what happened?”
“Parts of what happened.”
“The important parts?”
He shook his head.
“I think,” I said then, “you should start thinking about forgiveness.”