Page 50 of My Grumpy Fire Chief Next Door
“Feels nice to hear it from someone other than Knox, to be honest. I’ve been trying to hold it together since having Maddox. You know, keep from falling apart completely.” She laughs, aquiet, self-deprecating sound, brushing a stray hair off her damp forehead.
Before I can answer, she tosses the compliment right back, her eyes flicking over me with a playful, almost envious tilt.
“But you, Kate? You’ve got that whole ‘effortless beauty’ thing going. Like one of those women who steps out of the rain and somehow looks like she’s in a shampoo commercial.”
I let out a soft laugh, some of the tightness unwinding. “Yeah, right. Tell that to the puddle of sweat I left on that treadmill.”
She hooks an arm through mine and leads me toward a small refreshment station tucked near the front. A simple table with pitchers of cucumber water and sports drinks next to a basket piled high with neatly folded hand towels.
She presses a cool bottle of water into my palm before I even reach for one.
“Here,” she says, nudging it toward my lips like I’m one of Maddox’s classmates. “Drink before you fall over.”
The first sip is heaven. Cold and refreshing, washing away the dryness from my throat, though the lump still sits there, unmoved.
When I lower the bottle, Emily curls her fingers lightly around my elbow, steering me away from the treadmill haze and toward two people standing near the stretching mats.
The woman catches my eye first, dressed in soft navy leggings and a slouchy, off-the-shoulder sweatshirt, her hair pulled into a messy bun that still somehow looks intentional. She radiates that kind of easy warmth that makes you feel like you’ve met her before, even though I haven’t.
Her face is open and kind, and there’s a glow to her—not the picture-perfect kind from magazines, but the genuine, soft-edged kind that makes me wonder how someone can manage to look so calm.
Beside her stands a man, broad-shouldered, clean-cut, quiet in the way that says he doesn’t waste words unless they matter. There’s a steadiness about him, the kind that doesn’t come from lifting weights but from living through the sort of things that shape a person from the inside out.
Emily nudges me a little closer, the friendly kind of shove I’ve seen people usually reserve for friends.
“Kate, this is Ava,” she says, her voice light but threaded with affection. “She owns the coffee shop I basically pay rent at.” Then she tips her chin toward the man beside her. “And that’s her husband, Connor. He runs this place.”
Ava’s hand reaches out toward mine, her grip warm and steady. Her smile is kind and makes me feel welcome without trying too hard.
“Finally,” she says, with a small laugh. “I’ve heard so much about you from Rachel and Emily; I was starting to think you were a myth.”
She glances toward the play area, her smile softening when her gaze lands on Parker. “I haven’t had the chance to meet you, but I’ve met Parker. I think my daughter’s already claimed him as her newest best friend.”
I blink, caught off guard by the kindness in her voice. “It’s very nice to meet you.”
My gaze drifts back to the play area, to the little girl with a mop of wild curls and a laugh so bright it feels like sunlight cutting straight through the noise of the room. She’s now crouched on the playmat, holding up a plastic triceratops to Parker, who looks lighter, freer, than I’ve seen him in days.
His cheeks are flushed, eyes shining, and that unfiltered, all-teeth Parker grin spreads across his face like he hasn’t a care in the world.
Something relaxes in me as I watch him. I know he misses Noah and Blaze, but there was nothing I could do about it.
Emily’s voice softens beside me. “She’s been glued to him since the second they met. Parker’s got good taste.”
Emily’s fingers brush against my elbow, giving a gentle nudge. “Come on,” she murmurs. “Let’s get you stretched out.”
I let her steer me away from Ava and Connor and toward the stack of yoga mats spread near the wide windows. My legs feel like jelly by the time I sink onto one, the floor cool beneath me, the sun-warmed air brushing over my damp skin.
Emily flops down beside me, stretching her long legs out in front of her with a content little sigh. The entire gym setup makes me wonder why I haven’t come here sooner.
“Kate.”
I glance up, and there’s Rachel, striding toward us with that knowing look that could peel back a layer of skin if she wanted it to. Her sharpness softens the moment her eyes lock onto mine, her smile faltering.
She doesn’t bother with pleasantries. She just kneels down on the mat across from me, her brow furrowed. “What’s wrong?”
The question sneaks through whatever wall I’ve built around myself. My throat tightens and burns, tears prickling hot behind my eyes before I even have the chance to blink them away. I squeeze my eyes shut for a moment, trying to push the feeling back down, but the crack’s already split wide open.
“Oh dear,” Rachel says, scooting closer, her arm finding my back without hesitation, and Rachel reaches for my hand.
