Page 69 of My Grumpy Fire Chief Next Door
And I wonder, how much longer can I keep this version of me separate from the truth?
Because the more I let myself fall into this life, the harder it’s getting to keep the two apart.
By the time the game winds down, the sun hangs lower in the sky, casting long shadows over the field. My legs are stiff from sitting, but I don’t move. I sit with the others, clapping politely as the kids line up for high-fives, their cheeks flushed and shirts sticking to their backs.
But my eyes keep drifting to the same place.
Noah.
He’s laughing at something Parker says; head tipped back, hands on his hips, body relaxed in a way I rarely see.
Parker’s bouncing at his side like a firework that hasn’t quite gone off yet, his voice too far for me to make out, but loud enough that I can hear his joy. And Noah, he’s soaking it in. Every bit of it. Smiling like that boy is his entire world.
A wave of longing hits before I can stop it—sharp, unwelcome, and far too familiar.
I rise slowly as they head our way; the bag of leftover snacks is lighter now, crumpled and damp from my tight grip.
“Mom!” Parker barrels toward me, his face bright with sweat and pride. “Did you see my hit?”
“I did, sweetheart.” I crouch and wrap him up in a hug, kissing his damp curls. “You were amazing.”
“Coach Noah said he’s gonna teach me how to slide next time,” he beams, then glances back at the man walking up behind him. “Can we go home with him today, too?”
The question makes me swallow hard.
Noah stops short, surprised. His gaze lifts, flicking to mine.
I stand, smoothing Parker’s hair as I force a smile. “Not today, baby. We’ve got some stuff to do at home, remember?”
Parker’s face falls. “But—”
“Coach Noah had a long day,” I add before he can argue. My voice is gentle, but my heart is thudding. “Let’s not wear him out more than you already did, okay?”
There’s a beat of silence where Parker pouts, and I feel Noah’s eyes on me, heavy and unreadable. I don’t look at him. I can’t. Not when everything in me wants to say yes.
But I know better now.
I won't let my son get used to something that could vanish without warning.
Noah crouches beside Parker, his voice low and easy. “Tell you what, bud—Blaze can walk you home. I bet he’s missed you.”
Parker lights up instantly. “Really?”
Noah grins. “Really.”
Chapter eighteen
Noah
Blaze is curled against me, warm and solid, his head tucked against my side like he knows I need something to hold onto. I keep my hand buried in his fur, but it’s not really the warmth or comfort I’m after. It’s her.
Her scent’s still on him, Vanilla and a hint of cinnamon clinging to his coat. It lingers softly without trying, and I figure she must have hugged Blaze before sending him over a few hours earlier. Parker’s syrupy shampoo is layered underneath, sticky with sunlight, laughter, and innocence.
It’s woven into the fabric of my flannel shirt, into the ache riding my chest like a weight I can’t shake loose.
God, I miss them, and they’re on my property.
I close my eyes and lean my head back against the couch. The fire crackles low, the logs split and settle, but everything inside me feels louder than that. As though my own thoughts are trying to crawl their way out of my skin and swallow me whole.
