Page 23 of Saved By the Firefighter

I dart into the living room. Clothes—Ellie's and mine—are strewn haphazardly on the floor and couch. I snatch them up, tossing them quickly in the laundry room. Anything to hide the evidence of what's been happening here all weekend, anything to keep Charlotte's innocent eyes from asking questions I'm not ready to answer.

I rake a hand over my face, trying to rub away the guilt. Charlotte doesn't need another woman in her life, not yet. She's still got that hole in her heart shaped like her mother, and no one—especially not Ellie—is about to fill it.

I reach the front door and open it in time to see Elijah climbing out of his truck. His movements are slow, measured, and he's not looking up at the house. That's not a good sign. Usually, he’d be waving, wearing a grin that says he's got a fresh story to tell. But today, nothing.

"Damn it," I curse again, running a hand through my hair before stepping onto the porch. If Charlotte's hurt, if something happened...

The thought makes my stomach twist into knots, and I almost trip over my own feet in my rush. All the while, I'm cursing myself for letting this happen—for getting caught up in a weekend of skin on skin and forgetting that I'm a father first, a man with responsibilities.

The fault is mine. I let my guard down, let someone in, and now I might have to pay the price.

Charlotte climbs out of the truck, her little face pale, and I'm at her side in an instant. "Sweetheart, what's wrong?" My voice might be rough around the edges, but it softens to velvet when I talk to my daughter.

"I don't feel good, Daddy," she whimpers, and I touch her forehead—it's hot. "Sorry, Daddy. I threw up."

"Don't apologize for that, sweetheart. It's okay."

"I've been trying to get hold of you all morning," Elijah says. "I wanted to make sure you were home before bringing her back. But I figured I'd chance it. She started feeling sick around midnight."

Guilt and anger war in my chest, anger at myself for being so stupid. I haven't been checking my phone, so it must've died. I let myself get too distracted. What the hell is wrong with me? I pull Charlotte closer, pressing a kiss to her hair. "I'm sorry," I tell her.

She only shrugs. "I got to stay with Mia longer, so it's okay. I want to go back soon."

"Let's get you better first."

She perks up a little, looking past my shoulder. "Ms. Carter?"

I turn to see Ellie stepping off the porch, hastily dressed. Elijah's eyebrows shoot so far up, I'm surprised they stay on his head. I give him a look, silently telling him not to ask. His eyebrows only raise further.

"Why is she here?" Charlotte asks, her voice weak but curious.

"There...was an accident at our other home."

"Accident?"

"We can talk about it later. Let's get you inside so you can rest."

I stand as Ellie approaches and Elijah steps forward to introduce himself. "I'm—"

"He's just leaving," I cut in.

He whispers to Ellie, "I'm Elijah and he's a grump."

Ellie smiles and shakes his hand, offering her name. Then she steps closer to Charlotte. She squats down to Charlotte's level, eye to eye with my little girl. "Tell me what's wrong."

Charlotte clutches her stomach, her face pale as milk. "Tummy hurts...I threw up," she mumbles.

Ellie sticks out her bottom lip, adjusting her glasses. "Oh, that's awful. But I know what helps with that. Come on." Standing, she offers her hand, which Charlotte happily takes.

I step forward, every instinct screaming to be the one who comforts Charlotte, but Elijah's hand on my shoulder holds me back. I turn to him, muscles tense, ready for whatever he's about to fling at me.

After the front door closes behind Ellie and Charlotte, he says, "Jake, brother, what's going on here?" Elijah's gaze is searching, his expression a mix of concern and curiosity that I'm not in the mood to satisfy.

"Ellie...It's just..." I trail off. How do I even begin? The weight of his stare pins me to the spot.

"Let me guess. You're going to say it's complicated?"

I drop my gaze. "No, I was going to say it’s casual."

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