Page 24 of Saved By the Firefighter

He laughs. "That kiss I saw between you two didn't look casual."

I grunt, noncommittal, staring at the ground. It's safer than meeting his eyes.

He pats my shoulder. "Hey, it's okay. I'm not here to make you feel defensive. I just want to know more about her because I'm happy for you. When did this start?"

I cross my arms because he is making me feel defensive. "Nothing has started. Like I said, it's casual. She was having trouble with her apartment and...anyway, I don't need to explain anything."

"It's okay," he repeats.

But I only shake my head because his words are a lie. "It's not. I'm not...I'm not ready to move on from Sarah. Neither is Charlotte."

"I get it, but I think Sarah would want—"

I step away from him, done with this conversation. "Thanks for taking care of Charlotte. I owe you. See you at work."

Elijah nods, knowing me well enough to drop the subject. He waves and then climbs into his truck without another word. He drives away, so I walk into the house, my boots heavy on the floorboards. Elijah's truck is long gone, but my mind is still spinning from our conversation. From the questions I couldn't answer. The truths I couldn't face.

Either way, I'm damn lucky he and Marcus don't know each other. The last thing I need is for Marcus to get wind of what's been going on between Ellie and me.

Rounding the corner into the living room, my breath catches.

There's Charlotte, curled up against Ellie on the couch, a mug of tea cradled in her small hands. Ellie's got one arm wrapped around Charlotte, the other holding a remote. They're both fixated on some cartoon. Charlotte is still pale but she looks better. Happier.

I linger in the shadows, just observing as Charlotte's eyes get heavy. Her grip on the mug starts to weaken, so Ellie carefully takes it, setting it on the coffee table before smoothing Charlotte's hair back from her face.

The simple tenderness of the gesture squeezes my chest. I remember Sarah doing the same thing, a lifetime ago, and have to look away. I don't like this uncomfortable feeling. Why does it feel like I'm trying to replace Sarah? Replace Charlotte's mother?

I linger just beyond the warm circle they've created, an outsider in my own home. The urge to join them tugs at me, but so does the need to keep my distance—to maintain the boundaries I've set.

I leave them be so Charlotte can rest, retreating into other parts of the house to tidy up any more reminders of my time with Ellie this weekend. I need to make sure the traces of her don’t linger.

Chapter 11

Ellie

Monday morning, I’m in Jake’s guest room stuffing my last pair of jeans into my luggage. An ache in my chest is already setting in at the thought of leaving Jake’s ranch.

As I zip up everything, the memories of Saturday cascade through me like a warm rush—Jake's touch igniting every inch of my skin, his breath hot against my neck. We spent the whole day tangled in sheets, lost in the kind of mind-numbing intimacy that leaves you boneless and satisfied. But it wasn’t just the sex—though God knows, that was spectacular—I find myself smiling at the laughter in between the passion and the moments we took a breather to just talk about random, light-hearted things. I don’t think I’ve ever heard him talk so much at once, but it was nice. It made me feel like we were more than just friends with benefits. Which, I know is a bad thing to be feeling.

Of course, Sunday was completely different after Charlotte got back. Jake retreated behind those thick walls of his, almost as if our day of smiles and softness hadn't happened. It's disconcerting. One minute he's relaxed and open, the next he's a storm cloud. I think this arrangement was a terrible idea, mostly for me. Why did Jake’s sinful body have to be so damn tempting?

My eyes flutter closed. I can still feel his bare, hot skin against mine, his mouth between my legs, his firm hardness…

"Ms. Carter?"

I startle and turn around to find Charlotte standing in the open doorway. I fight to regain my composure. “Hi, sweetie. What’s up?”

She lowers her gaze. Her dark eyes are glassy, her face pinched in discomfort. “I threw up again,” she says in a small voice.

I rush over, squatting in front of her. “Oh no. Your tummy still hurting?” I check her forehead as she nods. She feels warm but not as warm as yesterday. "Sweetie, you need to be in bed."

"I know. Um, can you stay with me on the couch?"

I brush hair from her forehead. “Oh, I would love to, but I have to get back. You know Ms. Wallace, my teaching assistant?”

Charlotte nods.

“Well, she’s subbing for me today but my students all say she talks too much. I really should try to get back for the afternoon before they all go crazy. Your Daddy is here to sit with you and help you feel better.”

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