Page 207 of From Rivals to I Do

I stumble forward, collapsing onto my knees, the weight of the harrowing ordeal crashing down on me. Jackson kneels beside me, his hand resting gently on my back. I'm shaking with relief and gratitude. I turn to him, wanting to say thank you, but the words stick in my throat.

Instead, I just look at him, really look at him, for the first time. His face is smeared with soot, but his eyes are bright and alive, and I can see a hint of a smile on his lips.

It's at that moment that I realize there's more to Jackson than I thought. He's not just a gruff firefighter; he's also a hero. And as I look at him, I realize that I want to get to know him better.

"Are you all, right?" he asks, his voice laced with genuine concern.

I glance up at him, my vision blurred by tears and gratitude. In that moment, everything changes. As the fire blazes behind us, consuming everything in its path, a change takes hold within me. I realize that my previous judgments about Jackson were hasty and misguided. There's more to him than meets the eye, a depth of character that I failed to see before. It astounds me that I have never seen Jackson in this light, in all those years. I can’t glance at him without a sensation of butterflies flowing through my body. When I look at him, I see a tall, handsome, firefighter and his presence demands my attention.

The animosity and preconceived notions I held against him dissolve, replaced by a newfound understanding. He risked his own safety to save me, a person he claimed to despise.

"I... I'm okay," I manage to say, my voice trembling. "Thank you, Jackson. You saved my life."

A flicker of a smile tugs at the corner of his lips, a rare glimpse of vulnerability. "Anyone would have done the same," he mumbles, his eyes darting away.

But I know it's more than that. In the midst of the chaos and danger, I saw a different side of Jackson—a side that was caring and compassionate. I can't deny the connection that has been forged between us, the invisible thread that pulls us together despite our differences.

"Thank you," I say again, my voice barely above a whisper.

He looks at me, his expression softening. "No problem," he says, his voice gentle. "Just glad you're safe."

We stand there for a moment, just looking at each other, until we're interrupted by the sound of a horn. It's the fire truck, finally arriving on the scene.

As the blaring sirens and flashing lights surround us, Jackson extends his hand to help me up. I accept it, allowing his strength to steady me. There is a shift in our relationship, a flicker of possibility. There's a newfound understanding between us, a connection forged in the midst of chaos and danger. In his eyes, I see a reflection of my own vulnerability and the genuine concern he has for my well-being. The fiery rescue has ignited something within us, a curiosity to explore the depths of our newfound connection.

Together, we step away from the blazing inferno, leaving behind the chaos and destruction. The night sky stretches above us, speckled with stars, a reminder that even in the darkest moments, there is beauty to be found. Jackson and I may have started on opposite sides of a divide, but now, in the aftermath of the fire, we stand side by side, united by a shared experience that has forever altered the course of our lives.

Chapter three

Chapter Three

When I return to my building two weeks later, I can barely recognize it. I've been staying over at Maria's place since the day of the fire. There is rubble and

debris everywhere. Some of my neighbors are hunched over, crying over the damage done to their possessions, while others are making their way through

the rubble to salvage what they can and clear away the debris.

I walk upstairs to my apartment and find that part of my home studio lies in ruins, reduced to a shell of its former creative vibrancy. As I sift through the debris, salvaging what little remains of my artwork, I'm surprised to see Jackson Reed making his way toward me amidst the remnants of charred canvases and broken sculptures.

"Maya," he calls out, his voice carrying a touch of concern. "Are you all, right? Did you go to the hospital?"

"I... I didn't," I admit, feeling a pang of uncertainty. "I guess I was just caught up in everything."

Jackson's gaze intensifies, a mixture of worry and urgency. "You need to get checked out, Maya. Inhaling that much smoke can have serious consequences."

"All right," I reply, my voice laced with a mix of gratitude and surrender. "I'll go to the hospital. Thank you for looking out for me."

Jackson's eyes soften, a hint of a smile playing at the corners of his lips. "Just doing my job," he says, his voice gentle yet sincere.

I see Jackson more often after the fire accident. He checks in on me, making sure I'm okay and asking if I need anything. It's almost as if he's taken on a protective role, and I'm not sure how to feel about it. Part of me appreciates the concern, but the other part resents him for being so overbearing.

I find myself drawn to Jackson, curious about the man behind the firefighter's uniform and the stern façade. Our encounter during the fire incident has sparked a change within me, a newfound appreciation for his strength and dedication. I want to understand him, to peel back the layers and discover the person hidden beneath.

One evening, as we sit at a small café near the fire station, sipping our steaming cups of coffee, I gather the courage to broach the subject that has been weighing on my mind.

"Jackson," I begin tentatively, searching his eyes for any sign of resistance or discomfort, "I've been thinking... I want to know more about you, about your life as a single dad."

He looks surprised at first, but then he starts to open up to me. His expression softens, a flicker of vulnerability crossing his features before he takes a sip of his coffee. "It's not an easy life," he admits, his voice tinged with a mix of weariness and pride. "Raising a kid on your own is tough. There are so many things to think about, so many decisions to make. And there's always this guilt that you're not doing enough."

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