Page 66 of My Grumpy Fire Chief Next Door
Then Rachel slides in last, looping her arms around all of us like she’s trying to hold the pieces of me together before they slip through the cracks.
None of them say a word. No probing questions. No awkward glances toward the field. Just warm bodies pressed to mine, silent understanding humming between us like a low current.
I press my lips together, fighting the wobble in my chin. My throat tightens, and for a second, I can’t breathe past the knot lodged there. So, I just hold them. I hold them like they’re the only thing anchoring me.
Because maybe they are.
These women don’t know the whole story—not even close. But they know something’s broken. And they don’t need details to love me through it.
I let them.
God, I let them.
They finally let go, and the crinkled snack bag is pried gently from where it’s been crushed between us, Rachel smoothing it out like it’s something delicate and worth saving. It makes me swallow hard.
They lead me to sit on the bottom row of the bleachers, where the metal is warm beneath my thighs, and the sun filters in from behind the field netting, casting everyone in this soft golden haze that feels far too gentle for the storm inside me.
Emily sits close to my right, knees angled toward mine like she’s ready to listen before I even speak. Rachel’s on my other side, still holding the bag, and Ava settles across from us, crouching so she’s at eye level.
Emily’s the first to speak.
“So…” she starts, drawing the word out enough to soften it. “Yesterday. We saw you leaving with Noah.”
I can see curiosity layered in care in her eyes.
Ava tilts her head. “And Connor said when he dropped Parker off, you looked like you were trying really hard not to cry.”
I laugh, but it’s thin. Brittle. “Sounds about right.”
They wait. No one rushes me. And maybe that’s what cracks something open in me.
“I don’t know,” I run a hand down my thigh, brushing invisible lint, just to do something with the nervous energy pulsing under my skin. “It’s like… when he touches me, it’s not casual. It’s not just sex. His hands say something else. Like it matters. Like I mean a lot to him.”
I look to each of them in turn. “And in the moment, I can feel it. I know he means it. I can tell. But afterward... afterward, it’s like he’s someone else. Cold, distant. Like he regrets it or maybe regrets me.”
My voice shakes at the last word, and I hate that it does.
“I keep thinking maybe I’m imagining it, or maybe I’m doing something wrong. Like, is it something I said? Did I come on too strong? Did I push too hard without realizing?”
Rachel reaches out, placing her hand over mine. Her touch is warm and comforting against my sudden clammy skin.
“You’re not imagining it,” Ava says quietly.
I blink at her.
Emily nods toward her. “Ava’s kind of the expert on this.”
That earns a soft laugh from Ava, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “Connor did the same thing to me,” she says. “The first time, we… slept together. It was slow, it was intense, it was real. And then, just like that, he pulled back. Told me outright that we couldn’t be anything. That he wasn’t built for it.”
I lean forward, needing more. “What did you do?”
Ava shrugs, but it’s the kind of shrug that hides an ocean of heartache. “I let him go. Not because I wanted to. But because I needed to protect my own heart. And sometimes, that’s the only choice. But… he came back. Eventually. When he’d figured himself out.”
“But what if he doesn’t?” I whisper.
“You’ll survive it,” Ava says. “But also… maybe he will. Maybe he needs time to stop fighting whatever it is he’s scared of.”
I nod slowly, taking it in. Every word settles into me like rain into parched soil. But there’s something else, too. Something I can’t help but ask.
