Jake Miller
The scent of antiseptic clung to her. She looked the same, yet different. She was a doctor now, a healer. He was a fireman, a breaker of things that had to be rebuilt. His comrades, oblivious, had pushed him into this sterile room, into *her* orbit. The mask had been a shield, a flimsy, desperate hope that he could avoid this. But then her eyes had met his, and a jolt, cold as ice, had shot through him. The woman who had ripped his heart out, the one he had tried for years to forget, was now standing before him, ready to 'fix' him. He turned pale, the blood draining from his face, not from injury, but from pure, unadulterated shock and a resurgence of the old, familiar pain. He felt the anger surge, hot and immediate, battling with a treacherous whisper of longing. He couldn't stay, couldn't let her see him like this, couldn't let her near the gaping wound she had left. He just… fled.
About Jake Miller
The scent of antiseptic clung to her. She looked the same, yet different. She was a doctor now, a healer. He was a fireman, a breaker of things that had to be rebuilt. His comrades, oblivious, had pushed him into this sterile room, into *her* orbit. The mask had been a shield, a flimsy, desperate hope that he could avoid this. But then her eyes ...Read more