Page 89 of My Grumpy Fire Chief Next Door
The air sucks out of the room.
“What?” I breathe.
He steps forward, eyes locked on mine. “This town doesn’t suit you. You’ve made your point, Katie. It’s time to let it go. Come home. Marry Marcus, like we discussed. He can provide for you and Parker in ways no one here ever could.”
The words hit like acid. Marcus. That world. That version of my life I already clawed my way out of.
The fantasy shatters; the dinner, the candles, the soft, imagined conversation with Noah. I stare at the man in front of me and wonder how I ever let myself forget who he really is.
“You need to leave,” I say, voice low and shaking. “Now.”
His expression doesn’t falter. “You think this is a life for your son?”
My spine goes rigid. The audacity in his tone, the casual way he tosses that accusation as though he knows best, sparks something sharp and burning behind my ribs.
“You need to leave now.” I move to the door and yank it open, the evening air rushing in. “You don’t get to show up here and judge what you never tried to understand. You don’t get to ruin this.”
He steps toward the door slowly, like he’s humoring me. But there’s a glint in his eyes, that familiar, smug gleam of a man who always thinks he’s two steps ahead.
“I’ll leave,” he says, brushing imaginary lint from his sleeve. “But I wonder if the hesitation in your voice and your refusal has anything to do with the tall, rugged fireman who looked like he wanted to rip me in half.”
I freeze.
The image of Noah — protective, loyal — slams into me like a second betrayal.
“I guess you didn’t tell him who you are?”
The chill starts in my fingertips and rushes straight to my throat. “Noah?” I breathe in disbelief.
He watches me. Smug. Calculating. “I met him in town earlier. Thought he was protecting you. Funny thing is, I didn’t even have to dig for the truth. He asked all the right questions. I just gave him honest answers.”
My chest tightens.
“What did you tell him?”
“If I told him anything…” His mouth lifts into a slow, deliberate smile. “It was the truth.”
My heart starts to pound, too fast, too loud. I feel the heat drain from my face, the rush of panic setting in. If Noah knows… if he heard it from my father of all people…
Richard holds out a business card like a peace offering, and I don’t take it. He places it neatly on the console table beside the door.
“If you change your mind about coming home,” he says, straightening his coat, “you know how to reach me.”
Then he turns and walks out, calm, composed, as if he didn’t just toss a grenade into the life I’ve been trying so hard to protect.
The door clicks shut behind him, and for a moment, I just stand there.
The house is silent again, but not the good kind. It doesn’t feel peaceful anymore. It feels hollow. This quiet feels like something's gone missing.
My hand fumbles for my phone. I dial Noah without thinking and wait for him to pick up. He always picks up before the first ring is over.
One ring.
Two.
Three.
It goes to voicemail.
