#104: Fallen: Fire and Redemption - Cold

***Julian Kauer***

Night had fallen, and the restaurant felt bigger than it really was.

The dim kitchen light barely illuminated the space, and the silence weighed on my shoulders like a reminder of everything I had just done.

Violet hadn’t said another word after we left the restaurant. She didn’t follow me when I locked myself in here, didn’t try to convince me again.

And that was worse than if she had yelled.

I ran a hand down my face, trying to shake off the exhaustion.

Did I do the right thing?

Turning Davenport down had seemed obvious in the moment. I didn’t trust him. I didn’t trust anyone who got too close, too fast, offering easy solutions.

But now, looking around at the broken equipment, at the growing pile of bills, I wondered if I was dragging us under because of a fear that made no sense to anyone but me.

A short, humorless laugh slipped out.

That was it, wasn’t it?

I was so used to looking over my shoulder, to expecting something bad to happen, that now that things actually had a shot at working out, I was the one sabotaging it.

I didn’t know if it was because I didn’t trust others.

Or because I didn’t trust myself.

I leaned against the cracked marble counter and closed my eyes.

The argument with Violet hit me like a punch.

The way she looked at me when I accused her of trusting too fast. Like she was seeing something in me that I didn’t want to admit.

"You never tell me anything."

Her words echoed in my head.

Because she was right.

She didn’t know what my father had done. The kind of people who stood beside him.

She didn’t know that when I was eight, one of his business partners knocked on our door, demanding a debt my father hadn’t paid.

She didn’t know that, that night, my mother made me sleep inside the closet, lying on my stomach with a pillow under my chest to muffle the sound of my breathing.

She didn’t know that while I pretended to sleep, I heard my father laughing.

That I heard the sound of glass breaking.

That I heard my mother crying.

I swallowed hard, opening my eyes again.

Violet didn’t know because I never told her.

Because telling meant giving shape to things. It meant making them real again.

And if there was one thing I had learned, it was that if you ignored memories long enough, they turned into blurs. Like an old scar you forgot existed until someone touched it.

Violet touched them all the time.

Because she didn’t understand.

And how could she?

To her, Davenport was just a businessman trying to make money. To me, he was a ghost from the past.

And the most fucked-up part?

I didn’t know if it was paranoia.

Or if my instincts were right.

I dragged a hand through my hair and glanced toward the back door.

I needed to get out of here.

...

The cold night air hit my face the second I stepped outside. The city mood it was nice.

The parking lot was empty except for the old pickup we’d bought for cheap. The streetlight flickered in the corner, and the scent of damp grass filled my lungs as I lit a cigarette.

I inhaled deeply, letting the nicotine mix with the chaos inside me.

I didn’t want to go back to the hotel.

Didn’t want to face Violet and that look in her eyes—the one that said she was waiting for me to trust her.

She didn’t understand that trust wasn’t my default setting.

My default was expecting the worst.

Because that’s what life had taught me.

I exhaled, the smoke curling in the cold air, and looked up.

The sky was clear, a scatter of stars against the dark.

Chicago never had a sky like this.

Maybe that meant something.

Maybe it didn’t.

The back door of the restaurant opened behind me, and I knew it was Violet before I even turned.

She leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, watching me.

For a moment, neither of us spoke.

Then, she sighed.

“Do you regret turning Davenport down?”

I let out a low, humorless laugh.

“Do you want me to regret it?”

“I want you to stop running from me.”

The cigarette burned slowly between my fingers.

“I’m not running.”

“Then talk to me, Julian.”

I exhaled another stream of smoke, staring at the horizon.

“You think I’m paranoid.”

She didn’t deny it right away.

Then, finally, she sighed.

“I think you carry too much alone.”

Something tightened in my chest.

She took a few steps closer until she was next to me.

“I just want to help.”

“I know.”

She was quiet for a while, then she plucked the cigarette from my mouth and took a drag.

I watched as she exhaled slowly, gazing at nothing, a small smile forming on her lips.

“Almost a tradition now, huh?”

I remembered that morning at the hotel when she did the same thing.

The corner of my mouth twitched.

“You don’t know how to smoke.”

She rolled her eyes and tossed the cigarette away, crushing it under her shoe.

“And you don’t know how to trust.”

My smile faded.

She looked at me, and the silence between us grew heavy again.

Then, she took a step back, like she was giving me space to decide.

“Good night, Julian.”

She turned and went back inside, leaving me alone.

I took one last look at the star-filled sky and let out a breath.

The weight in my chest didn’t go away.

But for the first time that night, it wasn’t unbearable.