Page 28 of Saved By the Firefighter

“Your mother is very beautiful.”

Charlotte nods, taking the locket and gazing at the picture. “Daddy says she’s an angel now and watches over me.”

The words hit me with the force of a freight train—Jake, a widower, Charlotte motherless. No wonder he's got a fortress around his heart and Charlotte seems to have a loneliness swimming around her.

"Sweetie, I—" My throat tightens with emotions I wasn't prepared for. I swallow hard, gathering my composure. "What happened to your mommy?" I ask gently.

She hesitates, clicking the locket closed. "There was an accident. Daddy doesn't like to talk about it." She puts the locket around her neck, tucking it under her shirt.

Though there’s still so much I don’t know about Jake, part of me finally understands him. He already lost the love of his life—why would he risk that kind of pain again?

And Charlotte…this poor little girl. She must miss her mom so much. No wonder she’s been having behavioral problems and struggling with school.

Now I’m really feeling torn. I understand why Jake doesn’t want me here, but Charlotte really needs some extra attention and support right now. She’s a smart kid, so her struggles have nothing to do with her ability to complete assignments. She’s just hurting. But if I help too much, get too involved, I might only hurt her more.

And myself.

Marcus has to know about the loss of Jake’s wife…but I guess it wasn’t really his place to tell me. Still, I wish I had known all of this sooner.

Charlotte cuddles closer to me, her small hand seeking mine. I squeeze it gently, just wanting to comfort her.

"Can we read another chapter, Ms. Carter?" Charlotte asks, looking too innocent and hopeful that it makes my stomach twist with guilt.

"Of course, we can. But just one more, then we should go eat that soup your daddy made." I wrap her in an embrace. As I begin to read aloud, I can feel my heart cracking.

After a very silent dinner where the only sound was Charlotte humming to herself as she watches a video on her tablet, Jake runs off to do more chores, telling me to leave the dishes and he’ll get them later. Well, he cooked so it only feels right for me to clean up. Once everything is washed, I make sure Charlotte is entertained and happy in front of the TV, then I slip outside. Part of me just needs to check on Jake, who's probably knee-deep in another chore. Ever since I've been here, that man has found every excuse under the sun to keep busy and avoid me.

As I walk across the dirt, the sky is ablaze with purples and oranges, painting the horizon in strokes of fading light. Long shadows stretch across the yard, reaching toward the barn where I spot Jake wrestling with a stubborn gate. Horses roam freely in the pasture beyond, their silhouettes graceful against the backdrop of the fading day.

"Hey," I call out as I approach, my boots crunching on the gravel. My voice sounds too bright in the quiet expanse, and I shiver as a slight breeze hits my bare arms and legs—I’m wearing a light summer dress today.

Jake doesn’t glance up, only keeps working, trying to hammer something free from a hinge. “You’re no ninja,” he says, which surprises me.

I wasn’t expecting that bit of humor, so I smirk. “Because you know a lot of ninjas?”

“No, but I don’t need to. You got heavy footsteps. You’re loud.” He pauses his work abruptly, his Adam’s apple bouncing.

I think we’re both catching his unintentional slip, both of us thinking of the way he kept demanding I say his name last Saturday. I was more than happy to moan it loudly, over and over.

Recovering, he starts hammering the hinge harder. “Charlotte okay?”

“Yeah. She’s watching TV.” I watch him work for a moment as I chew my lip. I can’t even imagine what he’s been through—how much pain, and yet he still had to get up in the morning and put on a brave face for his daughter, then go out into the world to do his job saving people. Was there anyone here to save Jake?

I’m not trying to fill that void, I just…I guess I’m just worried about him now. He’s been through a lot, and I imagine all he’s ever done is keep it bottled up inside.

“Seems like a stubborn gate,” I comment, trying my best attempt to make friendly chit-chat.

"Always is," he grunts, finally getting the gate to budge.

“I’ve noticed you’re very handy. It’s impressive the amount of work you do around here.”

"I grew up on this ranch fixing things. The army just reinforced it—discipline, you know?"

I nod, my curiosity piqued, and I take the opening he's given me. "You grew up here? Tell me about your family? You don't talk much about them."

He hesitates, hammering on another hinge, then sighs. "Not much to tell. Parents passed away a while back, and I inherited this place. Now it’s just me and Charlotte. More if you count the workers, but they mostly do their own thing."

"Sorry to hear about your parents. I understand how hard it is to lose them."

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