Page 34 of My Grumpy Fire Chief Next Door
We’re only a few steps from the field when Parker tugs at my hand, sharp and sudden. I glance down, and he’s already gazing up at me, eyes wide and serious, that little crease between his brows that only shows when he’s been thinking hard about something.
Have I done something wrong again?
“Mom.” His voice is softer this time. He waves his hand downward, beckoning for me to move closer.
I blink, caught off guard, but I do as he asks, crouching so we’re eye to eye. His fingers find the ends of my hair, toying with the loose strands like he does when he’s nervous or thinking too much for a five-year-old.
“You’re thinking about Noah, aren’t you?”
The question doesn’t come out with the usual lightness of a child guessing what’s for dinner. It lands sure and steady, like a statement he already knows the answer to. I forget to breathe for a second.
I open my mouth, scrambling for some easy excuse. Something light. Something that won’t open the door to questions I’m not ready to answer, questions I don’t even know how to answer for myself.
“What?” I breathe
“I mean Mr. Bennet.” He says, making me blink in surprise, my brain scrambling to come up with some kind of explanation. But before I can find the words, Parker leans forward, arms winding around my neck, squeezing with all the love in his little body.
“It’s okay, Mom.” His voice is soft against my ear, but every word sounds too mature, coming from him. “I like it when you’re happy. Mr. Bennett makes you happy.”
My voice catches, the words evaporating before they can form. His tiny hands cup my cheeks when he pulls back like he’s anchoring me to this moment. His smile is small but certain.
“And I like it when he hugs you.” He nods like he’s solving the puzzle for both of us. “You’ve been smiling more since we got here. I feel safe here and with him.”
Does that mean he saw us last night?
I don’t know what to say. There’s a lump lodged behind my ribs that won’t let words pass, only this strange, aching warmth that makes me want to cry and laugh at the same time.
But once again, before I can figure out how to respond, Parker’s already grabbing my hand again, tugging me toward the field like the conversation never happened.
“Come on, Mom! We’re gonna be late!”
Parker tugs at my hand, all wiry limbs and uncontainable excitement, and I let him pull me along, legs moving on autopilot while my heart lags behind. His little sneakers kick up the dry grass, the afternoon sun warming the back of my neck, but all I can think of is what he just said.
That quiet, fearless truth only a child could deliver, and maybe...I’m not as good at pretending as I thought.
When the field finally stretches out expansively before us, Parker drops my hand and takes off like a shot, his backpack bouncing with each step. I should call after him, remind him not to run, but the words catch somewhere behind my teeth.
My eyes trail him, soft with affection, until movement along the baseline snaps me out of the daze.
Noah.
What is he doing on the field? In the same breath, Mrs. Darden’s voice flits through my mind, something she’d casually mentioned this morning as I signed Parker in:You’ll love the T-ball coach. Town’s fire chief used to be a college baseball star, full scholarship, the whole nine yards.
I haven’t connected the dots until now. I hadn’t let myself.
Of course, it’s him.
The same man whose shirt I’d slipped out of this morning. The same man whose hands had left invisible fingerprints all over my skin. And now, here he is, standing in the middle of a sunlit field like the night we almost shared never happened at all.
Like I’m not standing here fighting the urge to walk or - God help me - run straight to him.
Parker doesn’t seem to share my hesitation. He barrels toward Noah once he reaches the field at full speed, with no brakes. His voice carries across the field, high and unguarded.
“Coach Noah!”
Noah turns at the sound of it, his mouth tugging into the kind of smile I’ve never seen him wear before…soft, unguarded, like it snuck up on him. His arms open in time to catch Parker as he leaps, and without missing a beat, he swings him up, easy and effortless, like he’s done it a hundred times.
Parker’s laughter bubbles out, bright and full, and the sound sinks its teeth into me.
