Page 88 of Hunter

He nods, pleased. “That’s progress. Real progress. How many meetings this week?”

“Four. I’m not just going through the motions anymore. I’m actually listening.”

“Good.” He leans forward slightly. “Let’s talk about the night Robby died. You’ve been circling it for weeks. Today I want to go in.”

My stomach tightens. I’ve been avoiding this. But I nod anyway.

Dr. Middleton waits. He’s good at waiting.

I take a slow breath and start talking.

“We were fighting before the call came in. Robby had been cheating again. I found messages on his phone that morning. When I confronted him about it, he said he was done. That he was moving out when we got home. He had the whole thing planned, even told our landlord.” I pause, the memory coming back the clearest it’s been since that night. “He told me that I was the problem in our relationship. That my drinking drove him to cheat. I told him he was full of shit because the drinking started after he started cheating. We were both pissed. When the alarm came for the warehouse fire, we were still yelling at each other in the truck on the way there.”

My voice cracks, and I swallow hard.

“We were the first truck to arrive. The protocol of our firehouse said we shouldn’t have even gone to the call while we were fighting. It also said we should have waited for backup.”

“So, what happened next?”

I can see it clearly now, and I have been lying to myself for months. Robby always was a cocky bastard. “The building was unstable. But Robby… always had something to prove. He went in first. Told me to cover him. I should’ve called it off and stopped him. But I was so fucking angry, and if he wanted to get himself killed, I decided I would let him.”

Tears gather in my eyes, and I blink them away. This is the part I haven’t looked at since that night.

“When the other trucks arrived and started dumping water on the fire, Robby was already inside trying to be some sort of hero. An old lady had been outside the building rambling about a family member being inside. But it wasn’t a residential. And all reports said the warehouse was empty. If there was anyone inside, they were squatters. Not that their lives matter less, it’s just not a confirmed person,” I explain, looking up at him.

He nods, so I continue, “When the captain got there, I went in to get Robby. We—we fought… a five-alarm fire was raging around us, and he tried to punch me before he tackled me to the ground. I scrambled to my feet, ready to drag him out of there when the beam fell. It hit him in the head and me across my shoulder and back. I don’t remember anything after that.”

The room is quiet except for the ticking clock on the wall.

He lets the silence sit for a moment before speaking.

“So Robby announced he was leaving you, you were in the middle of a fight, and he made the reckless decision to enter an unstable building against protocol. You waited to follow him in until your Captain gave the go ahead, you two fought inside, and the beam fell during that fight. Is that accurate?”

I nod, throat tight.

My nightmares over the year since he’s been gone have told me different stories of that night. Each one paints me as the reason Robby is dead. But the actual memory of that night is a little more muddied.

“You’ve been carrying the belief that you let him die. That you could have stopped him. But from what you just described, Robby was already making dangerous choices before you even entered the building. His decision to go in first, while emotionally compromised and against protocol, was the primary factor.”

I stare at my hands. “I still should’ve stopped him.”

And that’s the whole issue. I’m not sure he would have listened, but I should have done something.

“You were in an abusive, volatile relationship, Hunter. You were most likely exhausted, angry, and hurt. Expecting perfect judgment in that state isn’t fair to yourself. You didn’t cause the roof to collapse. You also didn’t force him inside. You tried to get him out.”

The words land differently this time. They feel like something close to the truth. And something eases inside my chest.

Dr. Middleton’s voice stays steady. “We’ll keep on working on this. But from where I’m sitting, Robby dying is on him. And I think you can release that guilt now. You have nothing to blame yourself for.”

I nod again, eyes stinging. For the first time since that night, it doesn’t feel like it was entirely my fault. It still hurts. But it feels like something I’m healing from. Like maybe it is no longer an open wound.

He lets the silence sit for a moment, then shifts forward in his chair.

“Let’s talk about Charlie.”

I tense immediately. I haven’t said much about him in these sessions—just the broad strokes of what happened that night. But Dr. Middleton has a way of circling back to the things I try to avoid.

“You have avoided talking about him for a few sessions,” he says. “You’ve said you’re in love with him.”