Page 44 of One Night Flame

His tone wasn’t harsh. Just final. Like arguing would offend him more than accepting kindness ever could.

I nodded again, but it felt mechanical. Too easy. Too neat. Like closing a book I wasn’t ready to stop reading.

Was that all this was? A kindness?

I didn’t want to ask. Didn’t want to hope. But I didn’t want to let him walk away either.

Cord had one hand on the doorknob when he paused. “You’ve got a great kid.” He said it almost offhand, but there was something deeper in it I couldn’t read.

I blinked. “Thanks.”

He glanced back at me, his gaze steady. “You’ve done a hell of a job with him.”

The words hit like a sucker punch—low, hard, and unexpected. I felt them in places I didn’t know were still raw. Because no one said that. Not like that.

Sure, people complimented Liam. Said he was sweet or smart or polite. Sometimes even offered a generic, “You’re doing great,” with that smile adults gave moms like me in passing. But this wasn’t that. This was a man who’d seen the mess. The reality. And said it anyway.

I didn’t know what to do with that.

My throat tightened, and I looked down, afraid the emotion would be too obvious on my face.

“You’re pretty great, too.”

I looked up. He stepped forward and pressed a kiss to my forehead. Just a brush of lips. Gentle. Barely there.

My breath caught. Every part of me froze for a heartbeat, panic flickering through me. Was that it? Was that a soft, sweet way to say goodbye?

But then his arms came around me. Solid. Warm. Sure. He pulled me in like it wasn’t even a question. Like I was supposed to be there. His cheek rested against the top of my head, and I sagged into him before I could think better of it. Before my braincould spin up all the reasons this wasn’t a good idea. Because, for that moment, I felt safe.

Not just held. Seen.

And I didn’t know what to do with that either.

Could he really mean this? Could someone see all of me—messy, sick, exhausted, overwhelmed—and still want more?

“I thought you were gone for good.” The words slipped out in a whisper before I could second-guess them.

Cord didn’t flinch. “I thought I might be,” he said, voice low and even. “I panicked.”

That landed like a stone in my chest. Not because I didn’t understand it—hell, I did—but because it confirmed what I’d feared. He’d seen my reality. And it had scared him off.

But then he added, softer, “But I was wrong.”

I pulled back just enough to look up at him. “Cord, this isn’t simple.”

“I know,” he said without hesitation. “There’s a kid. There’s real-life logistics. And yeah, that’s a lot even without adding in the chaos around what I do for a living.”

He ran a hand down the back of his neck, a flicker of nerves there—but not retreat. “But I’d be a damn fool to walk away just because I’m scared.”

That quiet sincerity did something to me. Broke open a little crack I’d been trying so hard to keep sealed.

He stepped back then, just a few inches. Not walking away, just giving me space. “I’m not asking for a blueprint,” he said. “Just… a chance.”

Just a chance.

It was too much. And somehow not enough. And everything I hadn’t let myself hope for.

He’d seen the mess. Not just the house—the chaos, the laundry, the toys everywhere. He’d seen me in it. Worn down.Unguarded. Barely holding it together. And he came back anyway.

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