Page 30 of Saved By the Firefighter

Jake pulls away abruptly, putting space between us as if the closeness burns him. "Yeah, go ahead," he answers, his voice steady but his eyes betraying a flicker of something like panic.

The awkwardness descends like a fog, and I scramble for something—anything—to lighten the mood. "Well, looks like that nighttime horseback ride will have to be a raincheck, huh?" I say, trying to ignore the way my voice wobbles.

Jake doesn't smile, just gives a curt nod and walks away, leaving me standing alone amid the sweet scent of hay and the musty smell of horses. I turn back to Bella and her foal, their peacefulness a stark contrast to the turmoil now churning inside me. I watch them and wonder how something so simple can feel so painfully out of reach.

Chapter 13

Jake

The aroma of bacon and fresh coffee fills the breakfast nook. Charlotte chatters away at the table, which is scattered with a few books and crayons, while I sip my coffee and nod along, glancing up now and then to watch Ellie cooking breakfast across the kitchen. She smiles as she opens the waffle maker, carefully using a fork to move a waffle onto a plate. I know I need to stop glancing at her, but the woman is gorgeous with that messy morning hair of hers wrapped in a bun, the morning sun filtering through the window to create a halo around her. Her glasses keep slipping down her cute nose, and she crinkles it every time.

It's only been a few days, but Ellie moves around my kitchen as if she's always belonged here. The thought leaves an ache in my chest—the familiar warmth of longing and the cold stab of guilt. No woman has been in my kitchen since Sarah. The thought comes abruptly, as those thoughts often do when I look at Ellie for too long.

Charlotte nudges my arm. "Daddy," Charlotte's voice pulls me back, and I shift my gaze to those deep brown eyes so much like her mother's.

"Sorry, sweetheart." I clear my throat. "What were you saying about the book?" I try to focus on Charlotte again. She's telling me about the story Ellie read to her last night, her eyes bright with excitement. I can't remember the last time she seemed so happy and carefree.

She starts going on about knights and castles, so I nod. But my damn mind slips to Ellie again. I glance over. It's Thursday, and Ellie has been here less than a week, filling our home with more laughter than it’s used to now. It feels natural, like she’s always been a part of this—part of us. But it’s messing with my head, stirring up feelings I’m not sure what to do with. I've had a little crush on Ellie ever since she moved next door at the duplex, but this is different. It's like we're playing house, and every second of it chips away at the wall I built around my heart after Sarah died.

I pull my gaze away, staring into my dark coffee. How can I let myself feel this way when Sarah's memory is still a living thing in this house? It's like I'm betraying her with every sideways glance at Ellie, every shared smile. And God help me, I don’t know why I kissed Ellie a few days ago in the stables. We haven't even talked about it. Which I’m okay with. It’s better left buried and I need to make sure it doesn’t happen again.

Charlotte interrupts my spiraling thoughts again, holding up one of her books to show me a page. "Can you read this sentence? What is this?" She points at a word.

"Perseverance," I say, leaning over to read the line she's pointing at. “It means to keep going. Not give up.”

Her eyes get wide and she nods. Then her little eyes glance at me and she forces a cough. “Okay. I’m per…per-ser-vance with being sick.”

I chuckle. “Something like that.” I sip my coffee, smirking behind my mug. I know what she's doing. She’s not sick anymore—I think she was mostly better on Monday. But I don’t have the heart to call her out on it because I think she’s clinging to the comfort of having Ellie around. I think I am too, but we both need to stop.

Maybe if Ellie wasn’t my best friend’s baby sister, things would be different. Maybe not. I just don’t think I’m ready for any of this—risking the pain of future loss. The duplex repairs are far from done, but come Monday, Ellie leaves. Because if I fall for Ellie and something happens...if she gets hurt and I can't save her...No, I can't go through that again. Not after Sarah.

I wouldn’t survive that.

I need to get my mind off this, so I pull a joke from my reserves. “What did the horse say after it tripped?” I ask Charlotte.

She slaps her book closed and gives me an unamused look. “What?”

“I’ve fallen and I can’t giddyup.”

She groans and rolls her eyes, but she’s smiling. I hear a snort from the kitchen and Ellie is looking at me, smiling too. I don’t like to acknowledge what that smile does to my heart.

Ellie brings over a platter of food, setting it down in the middle of the small table. She’s wearing a snug flannel shirt and PJ pants, but they do nothing to hide her figure. I scold myself for checking her out. Ellie settles into the seat beside me, her knee brushing against mine. I fight the urge to pull away, hyper aware of her closeness. Of the lingering scent of her shampoo. Of how much I want this. Want her.

“Thank you,” Charlotte beams, grabbing a handful of bacon and dropping it on her plate.

I raise an eyebrow, playing along with the charade we both know she's keeping up. "You don't think bacon will upset your stomach?" I ask.

Charlotte hesitates, a guilty spark flickering in her eyes. She returns some of the bacon to the platter. "Maybe just one piece.”

Ellie and I exchange a knowing glance. Then Ellie perks up as she butters herself a waffle. “What do elves learn in school?”

Charlotte grins. “What?”

“The elf-abet.”

Charlotte cracks up like it’s the funniest joke she’s ever heard.

“You laugh at hers but not mine?” I say, looking at my daughter like I don’t know who she is.

---