Page 14 of The One Who Changed Everything

"Hey, you’re coming for the barbecue at the station, right?" Nathan's voice cut through the fog of my thoughts.

"Uh, yeah," I managed to say, the word feeling like ash on my tongue. "Wouldn't miss it."

I scrubbed a hand over my face, the sweat mixing with the dust of the parade route on my skin. The laughter and chatter of my fellow firefighters filled the air as we walked toward the fire station for the barbecue. I should have been in the moment, celebrating the holiday with my crew, but my mind refused to let go of the tangle of possibilities that wrapped around my thoughts like thorny vines.

"Everything alright?" asked Eli, his brow creasing with concern. He was a jokester, but in the short time I had been in Minden, it seemed to me that Eli was the most perceptive firefighter in the station. He could always tell when something was off.

"Fine," I said, my voice steady despite the storm raging inside me. "Just tired. You know how it is."

But it wasn't fatigue that gnawed at me—it was the haunting suspicion that the girl with Samantha’s eyes might be...could shereally be mine? I pushed the thought down, trying to cage it like some wild animal that threatened to burst free at any moment.

The familiar smell of smoldering coals from the barbecue filled my nostrils as we arrived at the station, doing little to ease the tightness in my chest. I grabbed a plate, piling it high with food I didn’t have an appetite for, while plastering on a smile that felt more like a grimace.

"Hey, Mercer, you're looking a bit pale, man," Eli joked, elbowing me gently. "You'd think you just ran into a burning building instead of walking a parade route."

"Guess I'm just not as young as I used to be," I quipped back, deflecting with humor—a skill honed through years of navigating both emotional and physical infernos.

As the sun blazed higher, the conversation turned to families and kids, a topic that would normally entertain me, despite the lack of children in my family. But not today. Today, each word about parenting was a stinging reminder of my own potential link to a child I knew nothing about.

I had to talk to her. I deserved to know the truth.

But what if the truth was that Samantha had hidden a daughter from me for over a decade? The thought made me nauseous, the burger turning to ash in my mouth.

"Mercer, you in for horseshoes?" someone called out, pulling me from my reverie.

"Count me in," I replied, setting my barely touched plate aside. I couldn’t solve this tonight.

"You sure you know how to play?" Jake smirked. "Or do they just toss gold-plated horseshoes at country clubs in Chicago?"

"Yeah," Kyle added. "Pretty sure the only thing Mercer ever tossed growing up was caviar onto a cracker."

I snorted. "You guys are hilarious. Really. That’s just ridiculous. Obviously, we had a guy to toss the caviar for us."

A round of groans and exaggerated eye rolls followed. I was well-practiced in deflecting jokes about my privileged upbringing. It was a hundred times worse in Chicago where I’d worked before. I could handle Minden’s friendly ribbing.

"Figures," Kyle said. "Bet he had a personal horseshoe coach, too."

"Of course," I deadpanned. “Come on now. You tell yourself whatever it takes to stomach the devastating loss you’re about to experience.” With that parting shot, I let the horseshoe fly.

With a satisfying clank, it hit the post. For the next several hours, I lost myself in the camaraderie of my new station.

But if Samantha had been hiding Sophia from me? I made a silent vow to seek out the truth, no matter how much it burned.

CHAPTER 7

Samantha

Ibolted from the parade like a startled deer, my heart thundering against my ribs so fiercely I could almost hear it over the marching band. The festive music in the distance faded as my thoughts raced. Had Evan seen the way Sophia's eyes mirrored his own? That impish tilt of her smile that was all him?

I couldn’t believe she had walked up right then. Not that I could be upset with her about it. No, the blame rested squarely on my own shoulders. Well, and Evan’s distractingly broad ones.

I had to keep it together. I dodged between families with cotton candy and little kids waving flags. My blouse and skinny jeans suddenly felt too tight, constricting like my carefully compartmentalized life was about to–if Evan made the connection.

Maybe he was stupid.

A girl could dream.

Reaching the solace of a quieter street, off the parade route, I slowed my frenzied pace, gulping down the humid summer air. I glanced back, half-expecting to see Evan's tall figure striding after me, but thankfully, there was no sign of him.

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