Page 93 of My Grumpy Fire Chief Next Door
It takes everything in me not to stop her. One word. One step. But I stand still—frozen by pride or fear, I’m not even sure which anymore.
Her footsteps echo as she walks away, steady and sure. No hesitation. No begging. No desperate glance over her shoulder.
And God help me—
I’ve never wanted to run after someone more.
My muscles tense, my fingers twitching at my sides like they might reach for her on their own. Blaze shifts beside me, restless, like he feels the tension in me.
The bay door creaks open. A gust of cold night air rushes in, carrying the promise incoming rain.
Then it clicks shut behind her with a finality that makes my heart echo.
And still, I stood there, because heartbreak and pride are both hell to climb through.
Chapter twenty-five
Kate
Inever knew a place could stay exactly the same and still feel so different.
The gravel crunches under my pointed mules, like it does every day, but lately, it sounds is somehow louder. Sharper. Like it's trying to fill the silence Noah left behind.
Parker drags his feet beside me, his little hand sweaty in mine. His dinosaur backpack, bright green with faded stegosaurus spikes, bobs against his back with each sluggish step. The late afternoon sun paints the road in soft gold, and the light that usually feels warm and alive feels wrong.
The cottage comes into view, and automatically, my gaze goes to Noah’s driveway, and once again, his truck isn’t there. Again.
It has been fourteen days now. No texts. No random drop-ins. No Blaze trotting up the hill. And T-ball? He hasn’t shown up to a single practice.
I miss him. More than I’ve ever missed anyone. But I know he wants to be alone, so I don’t chase after him.
Parker stops walking just before I open the low gate, his grip tightening around my hand, “Mom?”
His voice is small, paper-thin, and shaking at the edges. I already know he’s about to ask the same question he’s been asking every day this week.
I swallow. My throat’s already starting to ache. “Yeah, baby?”
“Coach Noah isn’t here again.” He looks up at me, eyes wide and glassy. “Is he ever coming back?”
Goodness.
I crouch down in front of him, the gravel biting into my knees through my satin skirt. I push the hair from his forehead; he needs a trim again. His cheeks are still flushed from the walk, nose smudged with a bit of dirt. My sweet, messy boy.
“I don’t know, Parker,” I whisper, because I’ve run out of ways to lie to him gently. “I hope so.”
He chews his bottom lip, trying to hold it in. “Did I do something bad?”
I flinch, and I know he sees it even though I try to hide it. I pull him into me, pressing his small body against my chest, wishing I could absorb the ache and pain.
I realize I’ve underestimated how much Noah and Blaze have come to mean to Parker, and I blame myself for hurting the two people that mean the most to me in the world while trying to protect them.
“No, baby. Not even close.” My voice breaks. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”
He pulls back to look at me, his eyes searching my face. “Then why doesn’t he like me anymore? Why doesn’t he come home to play with me anymore?” His voice cracks, barely holding itself together.
Something twists low and mean in my gut. I brace myself against the sting.
“He does like you,” I say, clutching him tighter. “He loves you. He’s just… going through something.”
