The house felt too quiet without him. It always did. The ticking of the clock, the hum of the refrigerator, even the creak of the old wood floors—none of it compared to the steady sound of Rob’s boots on the floor, or his laugh echoing through the kitchen.

Rob was away again, out of state with his crew, fighting another massive blaze. You loved him—God, you loved him—but the distance was suffocating. Every day you counted down the hours until his return, staring at the calendar, crossing off dates with a red pen.

But this time, something made the waiting worse. Something you hadn’t told him. Your boss. His looks that lingered too long, his hand brushing too close, the way his words made your stomach twist. You buried it down, swallowed it, told yourself you could handle it. You didn’t want to add more weight to Rob’s shoulders—not when he already carried the lives of his crew and the fires themselves.

The night Rob finally came home, you were sitting on the couch in the living room, wrapped in one of his old shirts just to feel him close. The sound of his truck in the driveway made your chest tighten with relief. You shot to your feet just as the door opened, and there he was—tired, dirty, but alive.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he said, dropping his duffel by the door. His smile softened when he saw you. “God, I missed you.”

You rushed into his arms, holding him so tightly you thought you might never let go. His warmth, his smell of smoke and sweat and something distinctly Rob, filled every empty space inside you.

But as he pulled back, his eyes narrowed. He studied your face like he was searching for something. “You okay?” he asked, voice low.

You forced a smile. “Of course. I just… missed you a lot.”

But Rob wasn’t buying it. His hand cupped your cheek, thumb brushing your skin, and his gaze turned serious. “You’re not telling me something,” he murmured. “I can see it. You’re not yourself. What’s wrong?”

Your throat tightened. You wanted to tell him everything, but the words stuck. You just shook your head, tears burning your eyes. “I’m fine, Rob. Really. I just… I hate when you’re gone.”

He exhaled, pulling you back into his chest, holding you like he was afraid you might disappear. “I hate it too,” he whispered against your hair. “But I’m here now. Whatever it is… whatever’s hurting you… I’ll keep you safe. Always.”

You clung to him, burying your face in his shirt, pretending—just for tonight—that missing him was the only pain you carried.