Page 99 of My Grumpy Fire Chief Next Door
The turn signal ticks softly as I pull out of the lot.
I don’t even think as I drive. My hands know where to go. It’s as if they’ve been waiting for this moment, and my gut knew all along that the only way to move forward… was to stop running.
I take the road south down the island. Past the old cannery and the fields that stay green too long into fall. The cemetery’s up ahead, tucked behind a low stone wall and a line of pines that sway in the wind.
And for the first time in days, maybe weeks, I feel something close to clarity settle behind my ribs.
It doesn’t feel good. But it feelshonest.
I pull in slowly, gravel crunching beneath the tires, and park under the shadow of the trees. The sun is starting to dip now, and the light is softer.
I sit there a moment, staring out the windshield, my hands still wrapped around the wheel like I need something to hold on to.
And then, I get out.
I walk the same path I’ve walked a hundred times. Past the oak tree that always turns red first. Past the marble angel with the chipped wing. And then, there she is.
Josie.
Her stone is simple. Quiet. Just like she was.
Josie Lynn Harper. Beloved. Brave. Loved.
I kneel slowly, palms pressing against my thighs, and let the silence settle. I don’t speak at first. I never really do. But the words are there anyway, forming silently in my head.
“Hey,” I whisper finally.
“If you were here, you’d hate how I’ve been lately. Angry. Distant. Acting like the whole damn world’s against me.” I huff a breath and lean forward, forearms on my thighs.
It feels like she’s still listening, and she’s just waiting for me to sit down and shut up long enough to hear her.
“You’d tell me I’m being an idiot, I think. You always did cut through my bullshit fast.”
I smile a little, just at the corner of my mouth. The breeze picks up, rustling the grass around her grave.
“It’s been years. And sometimes, I still wake up expecting your hand on my shoulder, telling me to get up before I’m late for my shift.”
I glance down, chewing the inside of my cheek.
“I thought… if I held onto the guilt tight enough, it would keep me connected to you. Like if I stayed broken, you wouldn’t feel so far away.”
My throat burns.
“But I met someone. And I think…” I blink, swallowing hard. “I think you’d like her.”
A long breath slips from my lungs. The first one that doesn’t feel like it catches on something sharp.
My voice comes out almost too quiet. “She’s light. And heart. She’s stubborn as hell, but she makes me want to… live again. Not just survive. Not just get through the day.”
The leaves whisper above me, and for a moment I imagine her there, arms crossed, head tilted, that patient look she used to get when I couldn’t find the words.
I run a hand down my face, press my thumb against the tight spot between my brows. “But I’ve been scared. That if I let her in, I’m forgetting you. That maybe I’m failing again. At protecting what matters. At being enough.”
I look up at the sky, that late evening gold seeping through the branches above.
“But I don’t want to lose her. And the truth is, I never did. I just tried to convince myself I could.”
The wind shifts. And for a second, the world goes still. It really feels like Josie is listening, and she’s giving the go-ahead.
