Page 2 of My Grumpy Fire Chief Next Door
Before I can answer, the office door creaks open behind us.
“Katherine Montgomery?” The name sounds unfamiliar; it should be Katherine Sinclar, but it doesn’t matter.
I turn, nearly knocking Parker’s dinosaur out of his hand in the process.
Lillian steps out, all soft curls and pastel florals, the kind of woman who smells like warm vanilla and childhood memories. She smiles wide enough that my breath catches before she even speaks.
“You got the job.”
For a second, I think I misheard.
But then I blink, and Lillian is nodding, her expression kind and hopeful, and the words sink in.
I sigh in relief and smile back at her. I'm bursting with relief, but I contain my excitement, the way I was raised to contain all my feelings and stand to shake her hand.
"I promise I won't let you down," I tell her.
"I have no doubt you will be just what we need here," she responds kindly.
I scoop Parker off the bench, squeezing him until he squeals in delight.
“I told you, Mommy,” he giggles against my shoulder. “I told you!”
This.. this feeling right here…is what I’ve been chasing for months. Not just the job. Not just a way to keep the roof over our heads. But the sign. The sign that maybe Porthaven is where everything gets to start over.
Where I can finally stop running. Where I get to be enough.
Lillian smiles at us like she sees it too, like she knows she just gave us more than a paycheck.
“Orientation’s on Monday, but if you want to stop by the art room this week to make it yours, the key’s yours.”
“Thank you,” I breathe, hugging Parker again. “Thank you so much.”
As she heads back inside, I let myself sit on the bench again, holding Parker close, feeling the press of his small shoulder against mine.
The breeze smells like sea salt and chalk dust and something new on the horizon.
And for the first time in a long time, I don’t feel like I’m faking it.
I feel like I’m truly starting over.
“Let’s go see our new home, sweetie.”
I don’t have to say it twice; Parker skips ahead of me down the steps of the school like he’s floating, dancing along with his dinosaur.
I follow, one hand clutched tight around the crumpled paper with our new address that I half-heartedly scribbled out before our arrival, the other wiping at my damp blouse where his hug left a cherry-red print from his earlier popsicle.
In truth, I wasn’t going to see the house if I wasn’t given the job; there would have been no way to pay for it. Now, I’m glad to have a place to callours.
The school door clicks shut behind us, and I pause at the bottom of the steps for a moment.
The air is warm, thick with sun and the low hum of summer, and I let it settle over me like a soft-weighted blanket.
There’s laughter coming from the playground down the hill, and the wind carries the smell of sunscreen, honeysuckle, and fresh-cut grass. Life doesn’t feel so depressing anymore.
Parker’s already at the car, yanking the door handle with both hands, the dinosaur clenched between his teeth.
“You’re smiling,” he says as I slide behind the wheel. “That means you’re not scared anymore.”
