Page 3 of The One Who Changed Everything

Evan’s sudden reappearance was a plot twist in the steady narrative I had written for myself and my daughter—a narrative where stability and safety were paramount, where the wild cards of wealthy families and old flames had no place.

CHAPTER 2

Evan

The moment my boots hit the pavement, I was zeroed in. The call came from the local library, and the monitoring system indicated the presence of smoke.

I’d only been in Minden for a few weeks as the Assistant Chief, and I was still operating as a member of the responding crew so I could learn the dynamics of the department. The combination of paid and volunteer staffing was new to me and posed an interesting challenge. Chicago was familiar, but it had become increasingly difficult to find anyone who could see beyond my last name.

Captain Parker was off duty, so I took point, quickly directing my team of two. My eyes traced the small crowd, assessing the scene. “Who’s in charge here?”

“That would be me,” a small voice said.

She stepped forward.And for the first time ever as a firefighter, I lost focus on the call I was responding to. All I could see was her. It’d been almost fifteen years. My heart thundered against my ribs, as though it was desperate to break free, and I was frozen, caught in a torrent of emotions. Longing tangled upwith confusion, a mess of threads I thought I'd tucked away. I had to be hallucinating, because there was no way this was–

“Sam?”

Her name slippedfrom my lips, and my fingers reached toward her, unbidden.

Her stepbackward was the dousing of icy sanity I needed, and somehow I managed to hear what she said about the fire. Nothing major. Everyone was out.

My mind was reeling,but she wouldn’t give me anything. Her face was frustratingly devoid of emotion, whereas I was vacillating rapidly between disbelief, joy, and anger with every beat of my traitorous heart.

"Mercer, you good?" one of the guys called out, jolting me back.

I nodded, but my gaze lingered on Sam, tracing the familiar lines of her face, the set of her shoulders. My mind hurtled back through time, racing down the years to when it was just the two of us. One blessed week together before sorrow and regret carved deep grooves into my life.

"Sam," I whispered under my breath, her name feeling both foreign and achingly familiar on my tongue.

The weight of guilt was a heavy cloak around my shoulders as I took those first tentative steps toward her. It had been years, but the past had a way of holding on, its grip steadfast. I’d never been able to shake it.

“We really appreciate the quick response from Minden’s finest. I’ll be over here with my staff waiting for the all clear.”

Just like that,she dismissed me with a few words–pleasantries she would offer any other firefighter. They cut like a scalpel. I didn’t want cold and impersonal with her. I never had.

I paused, swallowing hard. My hands, calloused from a career of wrapping hoses and climbing ladders, fumbled at my sides, useless in this personal crisis. Even my faith, which had always been my compass through the smoky uncertainties of life, felt a tad shaky right now.

“I’ll come find you.” My words sank heavy into my gut, so similar to the words I’d said to her the night of the fire. But no matter how hard I had looked since then, I’d never been able to track down Samantha Brown.

And now here she was.

Reluctantly, I turned back to my team, and we ran a cursory check of the library, using the heat sensing camera to make sure there were no surprises hiding behind the walls. It was just the microwave, like Samantha had said.

When the all clear was given, my fellow firefighters packed up the truck. My gaze lingered on Samantha, the woman who had filled my world with color and light before everything dimmed. There's so much I wanted to say, to explain, maybe even to ask for forgiveness, but those words felt like a bridge too far, one that perhaps shouldn't be crossed again.

It was probably for the best. Whatever remnants of affection she might harbor for me were better left untouched. I was not the man she deserved—never had been. My actions the night of the fire proved that.

The Mercer name might have carried weight in Chicago, but here, in this painfully honest moment, I felt the full burden of the Mercer legacy. Wealth and influence are poor substitutes for true worthiness.

And the way she’d obviously been less than thrilled to see me again was just another confirmation.

"Be happy, Samantha," I said finally, a mere exhale carried away by the breeze. And with that, I turned back to my duties, to the life I'd chosen—a life of service, a penance that never quite absolved the guilt or filled the hollow spaces where love used to live.

Later in my shift, I could still feel the ember of her presence, smoldering somewhere deep within, flickering with every beat of my heart. She was here in Minden, after all these years of looking for her. I was back at the station, navigating through the routine of cleaning equipment and checking gear, but part of me was still out there on that quiet street with her only a few feet away.

Hours passed, or maybe minutes—it was hard to tell when your mind was elsewhere—and then she was there again, materializing in the doorway of the fire station like I’d summoned her from my fantasies. She had changed. The prim librarian outfit from earlier had been replaced with jeans and dressy blouse. I couldn’t say which one drove me crazier.

Samantha stood rigid, holding a basket that seemed to weigh more than its contents would suggest. I flashed a wry smile, one I was sure appeared far more confident than I felt. “Well, what do we have here?”

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