Page 2 of Nanny for the Firefighters

Fear flickers in his eyes, and for a moment, he seems like he might buckle. "I'll… I'll fix it. I swear."

I nod, backing away slowly. "Remember, honesty. Or I spill everything."

He nods, rushing back inside, and I turn, my job here done but with no illusions that it'll be that easy. People like him, they never learn until the lesson is seared into their lives.

Shaking off the tension, I decide a late-night bite is in order. The fog leads me down to a little bistro by the waterfront, a place glowing with warmth and the promise of strong coffee. The bell above the door tinkles as I step inside, the smell of fresh pastries and brewed coffee enveloping me.

The place is nearly empty, just a couple of night owls like me hunched over their laptops or lost in the pages of dog-eared books. I slide into a booth by the window, my back to the wall, always facing the door, and take off the oversized goggles. Old habits.

"Rough night?" The waitress, a middle-aged woman with kind eyes and a quick smile, sets a menu in front of me.

"You could say that," I reply, smiling back.

She chuckles, pointing at the menu. "The blueberry pancakes are good for the soul. And our coffee's strong enough to kick start a dead battery."

"Coffee, then, and those pancakes sound like a winner."

As she bustles off, I let myself relax into the vinyl seat, staring out at the foggy night. Harborview, with its quaint charm and seascaped backdrop, feels like two worlds merged into one—the picturesque surface and the shadowy depths where secrets dwell.

My coffee arrives, steaming and as strong as promised. I wrap my hands around the cup, the heat seeping into my chilled fingers bringing a sense of calm. The pancakes follow, fluffy and topped with a generous helping of blueberries. For a moment, I allow myself the simple pleasure of the meal, the sweet and tart flavors mingling on my tongue, the caffeine slowly sharpening my tired mind.

It's then I notice him—the man from earlier. He's headed toward his old home, back to his daytime wife. I grimace and focus on my coffee once more. I'll have to keep my eyes peeled on this one. Once the meal is done, I head to the bistro's washroom and clean up, removing the excessive make up from my face. Under the soft yellow lighting, I look tired, almost gaunt. No point fretting about it. ..

Stepping outside, I leave enough cash on the table to cover the bill and a generous tip. As I step out into the cool night air, I pull my coat tighter around me.

The encounter with the duplicitous father weighs heavily on my mind. My footsteps echo softly on the cobblestone as I head toward the oceanfront, where the sound of the waves can soothe my restless spirit. The fog swirls around me like a cold, damp cloak.

I find myself at the pier, the wooden boards creaking under my boots, the salty spray of the ocean filling the air. The rhythmic crashing of the waves against the shore tries to offer solace, but tonight, my thoughts are too tumultuous. Leaning against the railing, I stare out at the dark, heaving waters, allowing myself a rare moment of vulnerability. How many more nights like this? How many more souls in turmoil before I find a different path?

The self-pity spirals, sucking me into a vortex of doubt and weariness. I've always believed in my mission, but the solitude of this double life is a heavy burden. The secrecy, the lies—it's isolating. And for what? A momentary victory in a sea of endless battles?

Lost in my thoughts, I barely notice the approach of someone until he's almost beside me. The sound of heavy boots on the wooden planks snaps me out of my reverie, and I instinctively straighten up, alert.

"Sorry, didn't mean to startle you," a deep, friendly voice breaks through the fog. I turn to find a man standing next to me, his firefighter's jacket unzipped, revealing a T-shirt that hugs his muscular frame. He's tall and broad-shouldered with a kind, rugged face that's hard to ignore.

"It's okay. I was just…" I trail off, not really sure how to explain.

"Taking in the night?" he offers with a gentle smile, leaning on the railing beside me.

"Something like that," I admit, returning the smile. His presence is strangely comforting, a beacon in the fog.

"I'm Ethan." He extends his hand, and I shake it, feeling the calluses on his palms, the grip firm and warm.

"Ella," I reply. There's an ease about him, a sincerity that invites trust, even from someone as guarded as me.

"Ella. What are you, Ella?"

Well, that's an odd question. I quirk a brow at him. "A nanny," I quip. It's not really my job right now, but it's what I'm best at. That's all the questions I can tolerate right now, so I turn my focus to the ocean in the distance.

Ethan nods in the direction of my gaze. "Beautiful, isn't it? But it can be pretty intense, especially on nights like this."

"Yeah, it matches my mood perfectly," I say, half-joking.

He chuckles, the sound rich and warm. "Want to talk about it? I hear I'm a good listener."

I hesitate, the offer tempting. It's been so long since I've had a real conversation that wasn't about my missions or someone else's crisis. "Just life, you know? Wondering whether I'm really making a difference or just putting a Band-Aid on a gaping wound."

Ethan nods thoughtfully. "I get that. In my line of work, it sometimes feels like we're just waiting for the next fire, literal or metaphorical. But you know, even a Band-Aid helps. It's protection, it's care… it matters."

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