Page 42 of One Night Flame

And something about that sight did something to my chest.

I wasn’t used to this. Not the noise, not the mess—but especially not the calm that came after. I’d grown up thinking stillness was dangerous. That quiet meant someone was about to explode or leave, or worse. But this wasn’t that. This wasn’t tense silence—it was peace. The kind you earned by being present. The kind you only got when you were part of something, not just passing through it.

I sat there, slowly eating the soup I’d made with the leftovers of my own nervous energy, and stared at the woman and her kid curled up like they belonged to the same heartbeat.

And for the first time in a long damn time, I didn’t feel like I was on the outside of something good.

I didn’t feel like I’d break it just by getting too close.

I didn’t know what this was. Didn’t know what it could be. But I knew how I felt, watching them breathe.

Steady. Anchored.

Like maybe this wasn’t the storm.

Maybe it was the harbor.

SIXTEEN

LUCY

I woke up without the urge to immediately die, which felt like a victory. The stomach bug had finally loosened its grip sometime overnight. My limbs still felt like overcooked spaghetti, but there was no more nausea. No cold sweats. Just… exhaustion in their place.

I sat on the edge of the bed, blinking at the early morning light filtering through the curtains. My hair was probably a bird’s nest. I hadn’t changed clothes since yesterday. But I didn’t feel like I was going to puke if I stood up too fast, so I counted that as progress.

I padded into the bathroom to wash my face and brush my teeth. My hair did, in fact, look as if something was living in it, so I mustered the energy to comb out the worst of the snarls and pull it back into a ponytail. When that didn’t wipe me out, I dug clean yoga pants out of the drawer and pulled on a fresh sweatshirt. Ready for a board meeting? No. Ready to face the aftermath of the Sullivan House of Sick? Ish?

The house was quiet.

Not suspiciously quiet—Liam quiet. Which was almost weirder. I braced myself for the chaos I’d probably have to cleanup now that I was semi-conscious again. I didn’t think I’d have it in me to battle the whole of it, so I started a mental triage list as I padded down the hall in sock feet.

What I found stopped me cold.

The living room looked… clean. Like, actually clean. The blanket fort was gone, the trail of toys had been corralled into baskets, and the dishes that had been multiplying on the coffee table like gremlins were nowhere in sight.

Liam was on the floor, mid-battle with a stuffed dinosaur and a set of building blocks. And across from him—sprawled out on his side, bracing a coffee mug with one hand while gamely holding a triceratops with the other—was Cord.

He looked like he belonged there.

Neither of them had noticed me yet. Liam was giving a detailed explanation of a dinosaur war strategy involving lava, and Cord was nodding like this was totally normal information.

And maybe it was. In some parallel universe, where men like him stuck around and played make-believe on living room rugs.

I swallowed, throat thick with something I couldn’t quite name.

Cord glanced up then, catching me in the doorway. That lazy smile curved his mouth—warm, knowing, like we were in on a secret together.

My stomach flipped.

He’d seen me at my worst.Actually,at my worst. Sweaty, gross, feverish. Not even wearing a bra.

And he’d stayed.

My heart gave a little lurch. Because no one stayed. Not like that. Not for me.

So what the hell was this?

Liam spotted me first. “Mommy!” He sprang up from the floor and raced over to wrap his arms aroundmy legs.

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