Page 8 of Nanny for the Firefighter

It didn’t help that Jai had made me block Mason as well. Something he could check to see if I ever undid it.

I still haven’t.

It’s been three years since I left Jai, and I still have Mason blocked on socials because I’m too much of a damn chicken to see what his pictures might be like.

And too afraid to answer his questions.

Because the truth is Mason was right. I made the wrong choice back then, and I’ve regretted it every day since.

The one that got away. Such a stupid fucking thing to say, but nothing has ever been so accurate.

Hell, I haven’t even asked Hudson about him—Mason’s best friend—because he would have blabbed about it to the guy.

Oh, and there’s that little part about Hudson not knowing how we felt about each other back then. He’d have his own questions.

And I don’t do questions. Not anymore. Not after Jai.

“So,” Mason says, startling me out of my thoughts, “what are you doing back in town, Bridget? It’s been a while.”

I glance over, going with the truth, at least part of it. “Mom is sick. Hudson needs help paying for her medication and a surplus of bills. Plus, someone needs to help physically with Mom, and he’s got a family to look after.”

It’s a shit situation, but Mason seems more concerned than I’d expect. His brows pinch together, and I frown back at him.

“What?”

“Your brother didn’t say anything. I’m just surprised that…he didn’t talk to me about it.”

My heart pinches, and I curl into myself, having stuck my foot firmly in my mouth. Mason clearly notices because he laughs lightly through his nose.

“Don’t worry about it, Bridget. I’m not upset. Hudson and I don’t get to talk and hang out as much as we’d like. We’re both busy. Has she been sick for long?”

I shake my head. “No, actually. It was pretty sudden, and yeah. Hudson and I have been talking about it over the phone forjust a few days. I decided to drive home just two days ago. So it’s been moving pretty fast.”

Mason hums a sound of understanding.

“Well, there we go. I’m sure Hudson just hasn’t had the time to talk to me about it. It’s been a minute since we’ve seen each other.”

“Completely.”

But after that, silence crawls back into the cab again, and it’s not any less awkward.

We reach the firehouse in the next few minutes, and Mason has me wait out front while he pulls the truck around to the back and parks it.

After a moment Mason shows me to his truck. Pulling myself up and in—cursing my short legs—I take my spot in the passenger seat and buckle up.

Mason comes around the other side of the vehicle, and then we’re off to my mother’s house. Explaining all this is going to suck.

It’s not a long drive. Nothing in Red Lodge really is, and as we pass down the main thoroughfare, I lose myself to the familiar sights.

The main street is still lined with two-story brick buildings on either side, the warm red color glowing in the afternoon light.

They’re such old, quaint buildings, and I could probably map out the entire street even after five years.

The mountains create a gorgeous looming background to the streets, and the spotty clouds dot the sky with puffs of white.

Red catches my eye, and I turn to see the Red Lodge Café sign, still the shiny color decorated with neon accents. My stomach rolls like the hills around us as my heart pinches.

I left all this behind for the glitz and glamor of LA, and pretty much everything about that experience was a total failure.

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