Page 55 of The One Who Changed Everything

But as I sat there, the warmth of his presence anchoring me, another thought whispered through the fear.

What if it didn’t fall apart?

Leaning back in the chair, I let my gaze wander over Evan's features—those strong lines gentled by sleep or pain, I couldn't tell. And as I watched him there, vulnerable yet so incredibly resilient, something within me shifted. It was as if the walls I'd meticulously built around my heart, brick by emotional brick, began to crumble.

I may have buried it under years of anger, resentment, and pain, convincing myself that it was easier to hate him than to admit how much I had missed him. But love had never really left. It had just been waiting—for me to stop running, for me to stop hiding behind my fears and finally face what my heart already knew.

I swallowed hard, my fingers tightening around the edge of his blanket. I needed to tell him.

It wasn’t his heroics. And it definitely wasn’t his last name. It was the gentleness in his touch, the patience in his voice when he worked with Sophia, even after the longest shifts. The way he stepped up when I needed a hand. It was the way he made me smile and the way he made Sophia stand taller. It was him.

I was poised on the edge of my seat, nerves humming like power lines in a storm. The words had formed a procession in my mind, ready to march out into the open. I glanced at Evan, his chest rising and falling with the steady rhythm that the machines around him dictated. My fingers twitched, yearning to intertwine with his, as I leaned forward.

"Evan," I began, my voice barely above a whisper. The air felt thick, heavy with unspoken confessions. "I need to tell you—"

The door burst open, and a boisterous group of firefighters poured into the small hospital room, their presence immediately filling the space with laughter and an unmistakable sense of brotherhood. They were a colorful blur of blue uniforms and bright smiles.

"Hey, look who's finally taking a break from saving kittens from trees!" Eli Woods joked, clapping the now alert Evan gently on the shoulder.

"More like getting beauty sleep, if you ask me," Matteo said in his Spanish accent, and the room erupted in chuckles, even from Evan, whose eyes sparkled with amusement.

"Guys, keep it down, will ya?" Evan's voice was warm, tinged with gratitude, as he greeted each one with a nod or a weak wave. "I'm trying to recover here.”

“Come on, it’s not like a roof fell on you or anything,” Jake said. The room groaned at his bad joke.

I watched them banter back and forth, sharing stories that only they could fully appreciate. They spoke of close calls, of times when they'd relied on each other implicitly, when trust wasn't just necessary—it was life-saving.

"I should let you all catch up," I said, standing up and smoothing out my skirt, feeling oddly like an intruder on this sacred reunion of sorts.

"Sam." Evan's voice halted me, and I turned to find his gaze soft but locked onto mine. "Thanks for coming."

"Of course," I replied, my heart skipping a beat at the intimacy of his thanks. "I'll bring Sophia by later, okay? She's been asking about her dad."

"Looking forward to it," he said, a genuine smile touching his lips. I loved the way he loved our girl.

"Take care, Evan," I whispered, smiling at the men who continued their vigil around him. With a final glance at the man who had quietly stolen my heart, I slipped out of the room and into the quiet corridor, leaving behind the warmth of friendship for the cool solitude of my own company.

Two days later, I balanced the pan of homemade lasagna in one arm as I turned the handle and pushed open the door to Evan's apartment. In my other hand, I clutched a bag holding a fresh loaf of garlic bread, still warm from the oven.

"Hey, it’s me. I hope you're hungry," I called out, stepping into the familiar space that was beginning to feel like an extension of my own world.

From his spot on the couch, Evan looked up, his eyes lighting up with something that might have been relief or maybe just plain hunger. "You’re a sight for sore eyes.” His expression flashed with amusement. “And I’m not just talking to the food.”

I chuckled, setting the food down on the kitchen counter. "I brought lasagna," I replied, though my stomach fluttered nervously at the thought of what I really came to deliver.

He watched as I moved around his kitchen with ease, putting everything into the fridge.

"Here, let me help," Evan said, starting to rise, but I waved him off.

"Stay put, you're supposed to be resting," I insisted.

He settled back, a small smile playing at the corner of his mouth, which did all sorts of things to my insides. It wasn’t quite dinnertime, but I grabbed a cookie from the container I’dbrought and wrapped it in a paper towel before delivering it to him on the couch.

“M&M,” I said, handing it to him.

“Maybe I need to get trapped in a burning building more often,” he said, taking it from my hand.

“Don’t you dare, mister.”

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