Page 38 of The One Who Risked it All

I bit back a groan. How could I make him understand? The world wasn’t as black and white as he saw it. But as I looked at him, I realized something. Behind the anger in his eyes, there was hurt. Deep, decades-old hurt.

And suddenly, I was very, very tired of this never-ending conflict.

His eyes were pressed shut, his breathing evening out. As much as I wanted to fight it out and to defend Carla’s presence in my life, now wasn’t the time.

Movement by the door caught my eye. There stood Alex, his young face a mask of confusion and worry. His earlier excitement had vanished, replaced by something that made my heart ache – a look of understanding far beyond his years.

I swallowed hard, trying to push down the lump in my throat. “Hey, buddy,” I said, forcing a smile that felt brittle on my face. “Everything’s okay. Papa and I are just having a grown-up talk.”

Alex’s eyes darted between Dad and me, his brow furrowed. “Are you fighting because of Carla?” he asked softly. “I like her. She makes you smile, Uncle Eli.”

I felt a rush of affection for my nephew, mixed with a deep sadness. This feud was affecting more than just the adults, and seeing it reflected in Alex’s concerned face made that crystal clear.

“It’s complicated, Alex,” I said, shooting a pointed look at my dad. “But sometimes grown-ups disagree about things. It doesn’t mean we don’t love each other.”

Harold cleared his throat, his anger seemingly deflated by Alex’s presence. “That’s right, son,” he said gruffly. “Now, why don’t you go find your brothers? I’m sure they’re up to no good without you keeping an eye on them.”

As Alex reluctantly left the kitchen, I turned back to my father, feeling drained but determined. “We’re not done talking about this,” I said quietly. “But maybe we both need some time to cool off. We’ll get out of your hair and let you settle back in. I’m glad you’re home.”

My mother bustled in the door, a concerned look on her face. “Harold? Why on earth are you in here? Come on, let’s get you to your recliner.”

My dad gave me one last look, then nodded stiffly and shuffled out of the kitchen, leaving me alone with my thoughts. I leaned against the counter, my body suddenly feeling like it weighed a thousand pounds.

“Well, that went about as well as a dumpster fire,” I muttered to myself, running a hand through my hair. The adrenaline from the argument was fading, leaving me feeling hollow and exhausted.

I glanced around the kitchen, my eyes landing on the colorful cards the boys had made. They were scattered across the floor, casualties of our heated exchange. As I bent to pick them up, my fingers trembling slightly, I couldn’t help but think about the irony. Here I was, a firefighter who could face down raging infernos without flinching, but a confrontation with my own father left me feeling like I was falling apart at the seams.

I stood there, surrounded by the remnants of innocence and love, feeling more lost than ever.

My mind raced with conflicting thoughts. On one hand, I wanted nothing more than to make my father proud, to finally be the son he always wanted. But on the other... there was Carla. Sweet, funny, beautiful Carla, who made my heart race in a way no one else ever had.

I sighed heavily, placing the cards on the counter. “What am I supposed to do now?” I asked the empty kitchen, not expecting an answer.

CHAPTER 15

Carla

Ifroze outside the kitchen, my hand hovering over the bathroom doorknob as Eli’s words drifted through the doorway behind me.

“...just here to help out, Dad. Don’t read too much into it.”

My stomach clenched. Just last night, he’d gazed into my eyes and whispered how he’d never stopped caring about me. Now he was dismissing our connection like it was nothing more than yesterday’s coffee grounds.

I should’ve known better. The charming firefighter routine, those soulful looks—it was all part of Eli Wells’ playbook. And here I was, falling for it hook, line, and sinker. Again.

Swallowing the lump in my throat, I plastered on a smile and strode into the living room where Nathan’s boys were sprawled on the floor, surrounded by a sea of Legos.

“Alright, munchkins,” I announced, clapping my hands. “It’s time for us to get going.”

Predictably, a chorus of groans erupted.

“But, Miss Carla,” Linc whined, brandishing a half-built spaceship, “we’re not finished!”

“Yeah,” piped up Joey, his chubby cheeks flushed with indignation, “we gotta save the galaxy!”

I couldn’t help but chuckle. “The galaxy will still need saving at home. Come on, space cadets. Get your stuff together so your grandpa can rest.”

As I herded the boys toward the door, a whirlwind of limbs and giggles, I caught sight of Eli emerging from the kitchen. Our eyes met for a brief moment, and I quickly looked away, focusing on Joey’s wildly swinging LEGO creation.

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