Page 21 of The One Who Risked it All

I ruffled his hair, my heart swelling. “We’ll see, buddy. One day at a time, okay?”

Eli caught my eye over the kids’ heads, raising an eyebrow. “I like the sound of that… Sometimes, it’s easier not to think about tomorrow. Or get hung up on the past.”

I nodded, unable to formulate a response. As I helped buckle the boys into their seats, I took a deep breath.One day at a time,I repeated to myself. That’s all I could handle right now. Whatever this thing with Eli was becoming, whatever this week might bring, I’d face it one day at a time.

CHAPTER 8

Elijah

Istepped out of Nathan and Rebecca’s house, the crisp evening air nipping at my cheeks. It had been a relatively warm November, but it was still fall in Indiana. Ahead of me, my nephews zoomed down the sidewalk on their scooters, their laughter echoing through the quiet neighborhood. I couldn’t help but grin, even as a twinge of anxiety hit my gut. Keeping up with those three was like trying to wrangle caffeinated squirrels. Carla and I had quickly discovered that exhausting them was the most reliable method of ensuring they didn’t completely destroy the house–or each other.

“They’re going to sleep well tonight,” Carla commented beside me, a hint of amusement in her voice.

“If they don’t, at least we will,” I quipped, stealing a glance at her. The fading sunlight caught in her dark hair.

“You’re good with them.” Her casual words had my steps faltering.

“Careful, Putters. That sounded suspiciously like a compliment.” Equally suspicious was the way my chest swelled with something like pride at her words.

I was rewarded with a shy smile, her face turning away from mine and back toward the boys, racing ahead of us.

“I should probably be honored, right? You’re the expert, being a teacher and all that. I don’t remember that being your plan… back then.” What an eloquent way to reference our disastrous past. “What made you decide to pursue teaching?”

Her eyes light up, and I’m struck by how beautiful she looks when she’s passionate about something. “Well, once I realized that being a professional cheerleader wasn’t likely to work out…” She flashed a crooked smile, rolling her eyes as though laughing at her former self. Then, her voice warmed with enthusiasm. “I’ve always loved working with kids, and there’s something magical about seeing that moment when a concept finally clicks for a student. When I was a senior, I job shadowed Mrs. Lowell for a day. I thought I knew what a teacher did, but I only knew part of the story.”

Mrs. Lowell had already been ancient when we were in elementary school. “Didn’t she retire when we were in school?”

Carla nodded. “The summer after we graduated. But she still cared just as much as she always had that semester I shadowed her. It was pretty inspiring.”

I was hanging on her every word. This was a far cry from the Carla I remembered from high school – still fiery and determined, but with a newfound depth that was even more captivating.

“Plus,” she added with a mischievous grin, “I get to be the cool adult who knows all the latest TikTok dances.”

I laughed, picturing Carla busting moves in front of a classroom of wide-eyed kids. “Now that I’d pay to see. Maybe professional cheerleader isn’t too big of a stretch.”

She rolled her eyes, but I caught the hint of a smile.

How different things might have been if my dad hadn’t freaked out all those years ago. Would Carla and I be walking our own kids to the park instead of my brother’s?

I pushed the thought away. No use dwelling on what-ifs, especially with the family feud still simmering beneath the surface. Instead, I focused on keeping an eye on the boys ahead, their scooters weaving dangerously close to each other.

“So,” I said, desperate to keep the conversation going, “got any embarrassing student stories to share? I promise I won’t tell a soul.”

Carla arched an eyebrow. “Nice try, but teacher-student confidentiality is sacred. Unlike certain firefighters I know who love to brag about their heroic rescues.”

“Hey, saving cats from trees is serious business,” I protested, clutching my chest in mock offense. “I can’t help it if Mrs. Solomon wants to tell the story to everyone in town.”

She laughed, the sound warming me more than any fire ever could. And just like that, I was reminded of why keeping my distance from Carla Putnam had always been so difficult.

The crisp autumn air nipped at my cheeks as we strolled down the leaf-strewn sidewalk. With each step, leaves crunched beneath our feet, releasing that distinct earthy scent, triggering memories of bonfires and high school football games.

I was transported back to our high school days, sneaking glances at Carla across the classroom while pretending to pay attention to calculus.

“You really love it, don’t you?” I asked, genuinely curious. “Teaching, I mean.”

Carla sighed wistfully. “It’s... amazing, Eli. Watching a kid finally grasp a concept they’ve been struggling with, seeing their confidence grow day by day. It’s like... like being part of something bigger than yourself, you know?”

I nodded, understanding all too well. It sounded like the same pride I got after a call, knowing I made a difference. But there was something different about the way Carla described it, a warmth and passion that was uniquely her.

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