Page 18 of Falling for the Single Dad Firefighter

The directness of her words catches me off guard. I've spent so long being careful, measuring my actions against what's best for Mia, that I've forgotten how to simply want something for myself.

"I do," I admit, reaching out to take her hand. "I want to figure it out too."

Her smile is like sunrise breaking over the horizon—gradual, then all at once brilliant. She twines her fingers with mine, the simple connection grounding me in the moment.

"So what does that look like?" she asks, her practical teacher's mind already seeking structure. "I mean, logistically speaking."

I guide her to the small kitchen table, pulling out a chair for her before taking my own. "Honestly? I'm not sure. I haven't done this in... a while."

"Me neither," she admits. "And never with someone who has a child."

The mention of Mia brings the complexity of our situation into sharper focus. "She comes first," I say simply. "Whatever we do, however we handle this, Mia's well-being has to be the priority."

Rebecca nods without hesitation. "Of course. She's a wonderful little girl, and I would never want to do anything that might hurt her."

"She likes you already," I tell her, remembering how Mia talks about Ms. Brown at dinner, recounting the day's activities with animated gestures. "The blue star is practically a family member now."

Rebecca laughs softly. "That's good to hear. But liking me as her teacher and accepting me as..." She pauses, seemingly unsure how to define her potential role.

"As someone important to her dad," I supply. "That's different, I know."

"We'd need to be careful," Rebecca says. "Take it slow, especially around her."

"Agreed." I take a sip of my coffee, considering our options. "Maybe we start with some time together when she's not around. Get to know each other better before introducing any changes to her routine."

"I'd like that," Rebecca says. She hesitates, then adds, "I have this little cabin booked for the weekend after next. Up by the lake. Nothing fancy, just a place to decompress after the first month of school." Her cheeks color slightly. "You could join me, if you wanted. If you could arrange someone to watch Mia."

The invitation sends a rush of warmth through me. "Mom would be happy to take her for a weekend. She's always asking for more grandma time."

"So that's a yes?" Rebecca's eyes hold a hopeful gleam.

"That's a definite yes," I reply, giving her hand a gentle squeeze.

We sit in comfortable silence for a moment, drinking our coffee and sharing occasional glances that carry echoes of last night's intimacy. It strikes me how easily she fits into my kitchen, into my morning routine, as if she belongs here.

"Tell me something," I say suddenly. "Something you want. For the future, I mean."

She tilts her head, considering the question with the same thoughtfulness she seems to apply to everything. "I want roots," she says finally. "Somewhere to belong, to build a life that matters. I've moved around so much for my career—always chasing the next opportunity, the next challenge. But now..."

"Now?" I prompt when she trails off.

"Now I want to stay put. Build connections that last. Maybe even have a family someday." Her eyes meet mine briefly before dropping to her coffee mug. "What about you? What do you want?"

The question catches me off guard. I've spent so long focusing on what Mia needs, on keeping our little family of two afloat, that my own wants have become secondary, almost forgotten.

"I want Mia to grow up happy and secure," I start with the obvious. "But beyond that... I guess I want someone to share it with. The good days and the hard ones. Someone whounderstands that being a dad is always going to be part of who I am, but not all of who I am."

Rebecca nods, her expression soft. "I think those things are compatible. Your wants and mine."

"I think they are too," I agree, feeling a cautious hope unfurling in my chest.

She glances at the clock on the microwave and sighs. "I should probably head home soon. School prep waits for no teacher, and I need to change before work."

"I'll drive you," I offer, already anticipating the emptiness that will settle in when she leaves.

"You don't have to. I can call a rideshare."

"I want to," I insist gently. "Besides, it gives me a few more minutes with you."

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