Page 17 of Fire

Fat chance on that one.

Nell is my daughter. Not his. He may have donated his genes, but I’ve put in the work.

But man, those genes are strong. She looks just like him. His rich chocolate eyes. The perfect slant of his eyebrows. His cheekbones. Though she has my hair, long and blonde and constantly a mess because she has her father’s energy, too. Penelope Michaela Cole is always on the move and constantly on the verge of trouble. But she’s the sweetest, brightest, biggest-hearted kid in the world.

Just like I used to think Micah was.

I pull into Grandma’s driveway as the dark clouds loom ever closer. Between the storm, Julian, Micah rescuing me from a panic attack and then kissing me, I’m a wreck, and I can’t let Nell see that. She deserves a strong mom. A smart mom. Someone who has herself together, knows what she wants, and works to make it happen.

Plastic covers the gaping hole of her window, and that side of the ranch style house is singed and charred. While the rest of the house is habitable, Nell’s room is waiting to be gutted and rebuilt from the ground up. Insurance will cover the repairs, but it’ll take time for the paperwork to clear and then more time for the work to be done. As I kill the engine, the front door bursts open and my beautiful daughter races to the car, hair streaming as her smile stretches wide and wonderful. Her knees, elbows, and hands are covered in bandages from her fall, but they’re not slowing her down. I don’t think anything ever will. And just like that, my mood lightens, despite the roll of thunder urging me to get in the house before the storm breaks.

“Hey there, Nell Bell,” I say as she swings open my car door. “How goes my beautiful sunshine?”

“I had the best day today, Mama. We did a ‘speriment with volcanoes and Nurse Weathers is…I wanna say she’s real nice but I’m trying not to tell lies. And Giuseppe DiSanto told me I was badass because of my scrapes from falling off the monkey bars.”

I arch an eyebrow as Nell covers her mouth.

“Sorry, Mama.” She spreads her fingers to whisper, “But that’s what he said.”

Her smile is medicine and her energy is sweet and oh my goodness I would do anything for this little girl, with her soulful eyes and energy so like the person her father could have been.

“Help me carry the food in?” I ask as she dances and twirls. “I got some pudding cups this week.”

“Puddin’ cups, puddin’ cups! Who doesn’t love a puddin’ cup!” Nell gathers several bags from the back and skips toward the house where Grandma leans on the doorway, smiling brightly, welcoming us home.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Micah

Fat drops of rain splatter on the pavement as I pull to a stop in Tucker’s driveway. First one. Then four. Then all of them, all at once. I chuckle as the view in front of me disintegrates into a watery blur. Nothing like a quick jog through a downpour to wash off the remnants of weird encounters with ex-girlfriends.

Bracing myself for the deluge, I grab the bags off the passenger seat, then close the door to my truck with a thump before racing up the walk. Once on his porch, I shake rain out of my hair, slicking it off my face and swiping water from my eyes. The door swings open to reveal Analise, laughing, her brown eyes wide as she swings her long, black hair off her shoulder.

“Micah! You’re drenched!”

“I have a very important delivery that couldn’t wait.” I heft the bags. “Besides, I’m pretty water resistant.”

“If you don’t stop spoiling us like this, Tucker may never go back to work.” She moves aside, and I step into the foyer, breathing in the now familiar scent of Bibimbap, a traditional Korean dish that’s basically lunch in a bowl. I fucking love it and I swear Analise makes it just for me.

“Careful now, wife!” Tucker’s deep voice comes from the living room. “He’ll catch wind of my plan.”

He’s trying to sound light, but I’m not buying it, and neither is his wife. Tucker’s biggest fear is that he’ll never go back to work. He will. I know it. There’s a lot of healing that needs to happen, but he’s stronger than he thinks he is and I’m here to help him when things get hard.

I brush all that away, smiling at Analise. “I’d offer a hug, but I don’t think you wanna get wet.”

She pats my cheek. “You know me so well, Tower.”

The thunder of bare feet on hardwood comes roaring down the hall as Mitchell and Flora round the corner. “Unca Towa!”

“Now you two, that’s another story.” I place the bags on the floor and sweep the toddlers into my arms, rubbing my damp hair into Mitchell’s belly while he shrieks with delight.

“You wet!” Flora cries. “Do to me!”

I manhandle the twins into the living room, where Tucker is set up on the couch, his leg still in a cast propped up by pillows while he leans back, the incision in his belly still working on healing. “There goes the day,” he groans.

I lower a giggling Flora to the floor. “You know you love me.”

“Whatever you need to tell yourself to make it through. Who am I to judge, right?”

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