Page 72 of My Grumpy Fire Chief Next Door
I drag in a breath, thick with dust and sage paint that never made it past one wall. “She makes me want things I told myself I couldn’t want again. And I know that’s not fair. I know it.”
My hands tremble as I press them flat to the floor. The rug’s worn, threads curling from the years I’ve avoided this place. My chest still heaves, but the storm’s easing now. What’s left is quieter. Still broken. Still aching. But clearer, too.
I lift my head, eyes catching the mobile sticking out of its box, tucked behind the crib. Little wooden stars. Josie picked it up because it played the lullaby her mom used to hum.
I pick it up and set it in my lap.
“I hope you’ll forgive me,” I say softly, brushing dust off the plastic window. “For wanting more. For needing more. Because I think if I don’t… if I let her go… I’ll drown in this house. In the silence. In the damn what-ifs.”
Blaze shifts beside me, resting his head on my thigh like a weight and a blessing. I thread my fingers through his fur, and something shifts.
The ache doesn’t go away, but it hardens into something else. A pull. Not guilt. Not grief.
Hope.
I place the box gently on the floor and stand slowly, like I’m testing new legs after a long fall. My joints crack. My hands feel too big. But my heart? It’s moving. For the first time in a long time, it’s not just remembering; it’s reaching.
I turn toward the hallway.
Toward the front door.
Toward her.
I don’t know what I’ll say. But I know I have to try. Because maybe losing Josie wasn’t my fault. But losing Kate would be.
And I don’t think I can survive watching her walk away again, knowing I didn’t fight.
So, I wipe my face on my sleeve. Open the door. And step into the night.
Because some things are worth chasing, especially the ones that scare the hell out of you.
Chapter nineteen
Kate
The bowl of ice cream is melting faster than I can eat it. A little river of vanilla and caramel winds down the side, sticky against my fingers, but I barely notice.
I’m out on the porch, arms folded over the railing, staring into the dark like it might tell me something. The wind carries a whisper of salt from the ocean, and a cricket hums somewhere beneath the steps.
The night wraps around the cottage, thick and hushed, and I feel all that quiet settling inside me, too.
One day without him, and it already feels like a week.
It’s stupid. To ache for and miss someone who never promised you anything. But it doesn’t stop the need.
The steady pull under my ribs, as if my body has already got used to him being near. His voice, his dog, the way Parker lights up when he sees him. It’s as if something in my world slid into place without me realizing it.
I take another bite. Cold and sweet. It should help, but it doesn’t.
If Noah can’t be what I need, if he can’t be transparent and give me something beyond physical, then I’ll walk away. I will do it for Parker because he deserves better. I know how to pretend I’m fine. But pretending doesn’t stop the cracks.
I raise another spoon of ice cream to my lips, and then I see a figure by the tree line.
The figure is walking with heavy shoulders and slow steps. It’s almost as if he’s carrying every bad memory he’s ever had. My breath catches when the porch light reaches his face.
Noah.
God.
