Page 24 of The One Who Risked it All

“I’ll take a four-alarm fire over bedtime any day,” I joked, but there’s a part of me that wasn’t entirely sure I didn’t mean it.

CHAPTER 9

Carla

Ileaned against the porch railing, soaking in the laughter that filled the yard. My eyes were drawn to little Joey, his chubby legs pumping furiously as he pedaled his miniature bike across the driveway. His face was the picture of pure, unadulterated joy – the kind only a two-year-old could muster on a sunny afternoon, even with a stocking cap tugged over his ears to ward off the chill.

“Careful there, speed racer!” I called out, more out of habit than any real concern. After all, what could possibly go wrong on such a perfect day?

The universe, apparently eager to prove me wrong, chose that exact moment to intervene. Joey’s front wheel hit a crack in the drive, where the concrete had settled an inch or so. It was just enough to send him toppling sideways. Time seemed to slow as I watched him fall, his laughter morphing into a startled cry.

My heart leaped into my throat, and before I knew it, I was sprinting across the yard. My instincts kicked in, pushing aside the panic that threatened to overwhelm me. I dropped to my knees beside Joey, my hands hovering over him as I quickly scanned for any serious injuries.

“Hey there, buddy,” I said, keeping my voice steady despite the adrenaline coursing through me. “That was quite a tumble, huh? Can you look at me?”

Joey’s bottom lip quivered, his eyes wide with shock as he wailed, pointing to his knee. The kid could talk nonstop, but apparently words were too much work when he was crying.

I glanced down, my stomach clenching at the sight of blood through a hole in his sweatpants..A lotof blood. Just what we needed to round out this babysitting adventure – an actual injury. But even as the sarcastic thought flitted through my mind, I pushed it aside.

“It’s okay, sweetie,” I soothed, gently brushing his hair back from his forehead. “We’ll get you fixed up in no time. Can you be my brave little monkey for a minute?”

At the mention of his favorite animal, Joey’s crying lessened. His face brightened slightly. “Ooh ooh, ahh ahh!” he mimicked, hiccupping through his tears.

I couldn’t help but chuckle, marveling at how quickly children could bounce back. “That’s right, just like a brave little monkey. Now, let’s see what we can do about that knee, shall we?”

As I reached for Joey’s leg, a shadow fell over us. I looked up, my breath catching in my throat as I recognized the broad-shouldered silhouette. I braced myself for the inevitable flip-flop of my traitorous heart as Eli crouched down beside us.

I watched as Eli’s expression shifted from his usual playful smirk to a look of focused concern. His dark eyes scanned Joey’s injury with a calm I couldn’t seem to muster, and I felt an unwanted twinge of admiration. I hated how good he was at this. Why did he always have to show up at moments like this? And why, oh why, did he have to look so infuriatingly competent while doing it?

“Hey there, little man,” Eli said, his voice warm and steady. “Mind if I take a look at that knee?”

As he spoke, my mind raced with thoughts of how to handle the situation. Should I take Joey to the emergency room? Was a first-aid kit enough? And why did Eli’s presence have to complicate everything?

Joey nodded bravely, but I saw the fear still lingering in his eyes. I found myself holding my breath as Eli gently examined the wound, his touch so careful, so... capable. “It’s a deep scrape, but nothing too serious,” Eli said, glancing up at me. “We just need to clean it and bandage it up.”

“I can handle this,” I muttered, more to myself than to him. “I’ve dealt with worse scrapes before.”

Eli raised an eyebrow, that trademark cockiness starting to creep back into his expression. “I’m sure you have, Carla. But two pairs of hands are better than one, don’t you think?”

I gritted my teeth, trying not to let his words get to me. But he was right—of course, he was. I couldn’t do it alone, not with Joey sobbing like that and my own nerves about to unravel.

When I returned with the first-aid kit, I knelt beside Eli again and let myself watch him. He was so focused, so good at what he did. Irresponsible? No. Careless? My chest tightened, the memories of our past—of what he’d done to me, of how he’d hurt me—flooding back. No, that wasn’t this guy.

As Eli opened the kit and began cleaning Joey’s wound, I turned my attention to the little boy’s tear-streaked face. His bottom lip quivered, threatening a fresh bout of tears.

“Hey, Joey,” I said softly, brushing his hair back from his forehead. “Did I ever tell you about the time I fell off my bike and thought I’d turned into a superhero?”

Joey’s eyes widened, momentarily distracted from the sting of antiseptic. “Really?”

I nodded, launching into an embellished tale of my childhood mishap. As I spoke, I watched Eli out of the corner of my eye. His hands moved with practiced efficiency, cleaning the cut with gentle precision.

“...and that’s why I thought I could fly for a whole week,” I finished, earning a giggle from Joey.

Eli chimed in, his voice light. “Well, if anyone could pull off being a secret superhero, it’d be Miss Carla here.”

I cleared my throat, suddenly aware of how close Eli and I were sitting. “Good job, buddy,” I said to Joey, ruffling his hair. “You were so brave.”

Eli nodded in agreement. “Tougher than some of the guys at the fire station, that’s for sure.”

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