Page 98 of My Grumpy Fire Chief Next Door
My throat tightens, and I look away.
She reaches for my hand, gripping it like a lifeline. “So, I’m asking you, what’s this really about?”
I don’t answer, but I allow her to hold my hand.
She leans in, voice gentle now. “You’re not scared she lied, Noah. You’re still scared to start over and admit you’re really doing this. You’re scared to let go of your pain because you don’t know who you are without it. And you’re using this whole thing as an excuse to push her away before she can walk.”
A muscle ticks in my jaw at how close to the mark she is.
Her thumb brushes over my knuckles like a mother calming a restless child. “Why are you punishing yourself and the woman you love over something that doesn’t even hold weight anymore?”
The lump in my throat seems to grow bigger. “You’re suffering, Noah. So is she. So what the hell are you doing? I think it’s time to get out of your own damn head and do what you actually want.”
She allows the words to hang there without adding anything.
I look at myself in the mirror again, the red eyes, the overgrown beard, the barely concealed pain, and for the first time in weeks, I let myself really feel what’s underneath all of it.
Not betrayal.
Just fear.
What I want? I want Kate.
I want her more than anything else.
I want her in my life, not as a complication, not as a question mark, but as my future.
And if that’s going to happen... I have to let go of the past first.
I finally turn to face Maggie, “I won’t be back for the rest of the day.”
She looks proud and satisfied with my words, and claps me on the back as I head out of the bathroom. The only stop is at the office, where I grab my jacket from the hook by the door.
I ignore the way Liam watches me like he half expects I’ll snap again, and walk straight out. I owe everyone an apology, but that can wait.
The sun stabs at my eyes when I step outside. Late afternoon, gold light spilling over the bay, long shadows stretching across the parking lot. I don’t realize I’m clenching my fists until I get to the truck and have to shake out my hands to fish out the keys.
I climb in, slam the door harder than I need to, and sit there.
The cab is quiet. No radio. Just the low hum of the engine after I start it and the faint hiss of the vents pushing out lukewarm air. I grip the steering wheel tight. My knuckles pale.
Why did it take two weeks before I can come to the realization of what Maggie just said?
Those words are still ringing in my head.
Why are you punishing yourself and the woman you love over something that doesn’t even hold weight anymore?You’re suffering, Noah. So is she. So, what the hell are you doing?
I scrub a hand over my face, through the overgrown mess of my beard, and lean back in the seat. My chest feels too tight for my ribs, and it’s like I’ve been holding my breath for two weeks, and I’m not even sure how to let it go anymore.
Then I hear her voice. Kate’s. Not really, but the memory of it, quiet and brave, the day she told me the truth.
"I didn’t lie to hurt you. I just wanted someone to see me as me first."
God.
I close my eyes, gripping the wheel harder. Because the sick truth is, she’s right. She’s always been right. I used her last name as an excuse, a reason to run when the truth was too fucking real. But it never really mattered, did it?
Kate Sinclair. Kate Montgomery. It doesn’t matter, and looking back now, she made sure I saw her, really saw her, long before I knew any of it.
