Page 42 of The One Who Risked it All

Dad grunted. “Hope you’re not coddling him. A fireman needs to be tough.”

I bit back a sigh. Even my job wasn’t safe territory anymore. “We’ll whip him into shape, don’t worry.”

An awkward silence fell, broken only by Joey asking for more rolls. I caught Carla’s eye across the table, and something in her expression made my heart skip a beat. She took a deep breath, and I knew what was coming.

“Mr. Wells,” Carla said, her voice steady despite the slight tremor in her hands, “I wanted to thank you for having me over. It means a lot, considering... well, everything.”

I held my breath, silently cheering her on. That’s my girl, I thought, before catching myself. She wasn’t mine, not really. But I couldn’t say I didn’t admire her courage.

Dad’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Well,” he said gruffly, “it wasn’t like I was given a choice. And I suppose the boys do seem rather attached to you.” He wasn’t wrong. The boys had all circled around Carla since we arrived, asking her for help with their puzzles, buttering their roll, or simply pulling her through the house to show off their favorite parts about Mimi and Papa’s.

I winced internally. It wasn’t exactly a warm welcome, but it was something. I watched Carla’s face, seeing the mix of disappointment and determination there.

“I was hoping,” she pressed on, “that maybe we could talk about—“

“More turkey, anyone?” Dad interrupted, his tone brooking no argument.

I felt a surge of frustration. “Dad,” I started, but he silenced me with a look.

The tension at the table ratcheted up another notch. I wanted to say something, anything, to ease it. But what could I say that wouldn’t make things worse? I was a firefighter, for crying out loud. I was supposed to be good at handling hot situations. But this? This felt like trying to put out a wildfire with a squirt gun.

As Dad busied himself with the turkey, pointedly ignoring Carla’s attempt at conversation, I caught her eye again. I tried to convey my admiration and support in that glance, hoping she could see how proud I was of her for trying. She gave me a small, sad smile in return, and I felt my heart twist.

I could love this woman, I realized with a jolt. The thought hit me like a bucket of ice water. And I was letting her slip away because I was too scared to stand up to my own father.

This feud had gone on long enough. It was time to put out this fire, once and for all. I just hoped I was up to the task.

I wanted nothing more than to reach out, to cover her hand with mine and offer some comfort. But I could feel my father’seyes on me, watchful and disapproving. The weight of his expectations pressed down on me like a physical thing.

Oh, forget it, I thought. I was a firefighter. I ran into burning buildings for a living. Surely,I could handle holding a girl’s hand at dinner.

But as I shifted, ready to make my move, my elbow knocked into my water glass. It tipped, sending a small flood across the tablecloth.

“For Pete’s sake, Elijah,” my father grumbled as I scrambled for napkins.

And just like that, the moment was gone.

As I dabbed at the spreading water stain, a commotion erupted at the other end of the table. The kids were squabbling over the last dinner roll, their voices rising in pitch and volume.

“I saw it first!” Alex insisted, clutching the breadbasket protectively.

“Nu-uh!” Linc shot back, making a grab for it. “I called dibs!”

Joey, not to be outdone, piped up, “But I’m the littlest! I should get it!”

I couldn’t help but chuckle, grateful for the distraction. “Alright, munchkins,” I said, adopting my best authoritative voice. “How about we split it three ways? Fair’s fair.”

The kids considered this for a moment, then nodded in agreement. As I divvied up the bread, I caught Carla’s eye. She was smiling, a real smile that reached her eyes and had my heart racing.

“Nice save,” she said, her voice warm with amusement.

I grinned back, feeling some of the tension in my shoulders ease.

For a second, it was like we were the only two people in the room. The laughter of the kids faded into the background, and I was struck by how right it felt to have Carla here, in myfamily’s home. Despite the awkwardness, despite my father’s disapproval, despite everything... she fit.

“What?” Carla asked, her eyebrows quirking up in that way they did when she was curious.

I realized I’d been staring. “Nothing,” I said quickly, then added, “Just thinking about how good you are with the kids.”

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