Page 34 of One Night Flame

Cord made his way over just as the kids broke for water and the other teachers got busy doling out snacks and redirecting mini chaos. My heart tripped over itself. I hadn’t expected him to come to me—not like this. Not with everything unspoken still hanging between us.

“Hey.” He stopped just close enough that the air between us felt charged again. His voice was soft. Gentle. “Didn’t think I’d see you here.”

I gave him a rueful smile, nerves tangling under my skin. “Field trip surprise. I forgot this was even scheduled.” Because in all the lead up to our date, I hadn’t once thought about what was happening after, once I got back to my normal world.

He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Guess that makes two of us.”

A beat passed—too full of everything we weren’t saying.

“I’m sorry,” I blurted before I could stop myself. “For not texting back. The last couple days just…” I shook my head. “Got away from me.”

His expression didn’t shift. If anything, it softened. “I figured.” His eyes held mine, steady and unreadable. “I was gonna wait a few more days before sending a really awkward follow-up text.”

I laughed, a small, nervous sound. “You’d have earned it.”

The moment stretched—warm and uncertain. And something in it tilted.

Because he looked at me the way he had that night in the doorway. Like he was remembering the feel of my mouth under his. Like maybe he wanted to do it again.

I wanted to do it again. Even swayed toward him a couple ofinches, pulled into his orbit. But there were kids. Parents. Teachers. A whole town’s worth of eyes.

His voice dropped slightly. “I was thinking maybe we could?—”

“Mommy?”

I froze.

Cord’s words died on his lips as we both turned.

Liam. Pale. Sweaty. His small hand curled into a fist against his belly. And that scared, watery look in his eyes—God, it gutted me.

I dropped to one knee instantly. “Hey, baby. What’s wrong?”

“My tummy hurts,” he whimpered.

I pressed my palm to his forehead. Hot. Too hot.

Behind me, I heard Cord’s breath hitch. Heard him repeat the word. “Mommy?”

Not a question, not really. More like… realization.

I didn’t turn around. Couldn’t. Because I didn’t need to see his face to know that this—this—was the moment everything changed.

I scooped Liam into my arms, his hot little face pressed against my collarbone. He whimpered something about his stomach, and I kissed his temple. “We’ve got to get you home, sweet boy.”

I turned, and there was Cord. Still standing there. His mouth opened slightly, like he was going to say something. But nothing came out.

The other teachers had started calling names, corralling kids toward the bus like a slow-moving parade of chaos. It was time to go. It was past time.

I shifted Liam’s weight and met Cord’s eyes. “I’m sorry,” I said, and I meant it in more ways than one.

Sorry for not texting.

Sorry for letting this happen when I should’ve known better.

Sorry that this moment—this messy, too-real moment—was the one that told the truth.

He nodded. Just once. His face unreadable. He didn’t move.

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