Page 33 of My Off-limits Firefighter Next Door
She murmured a quick thank-you and hung up, not giving me time to respond. No matter. I was already up, stretching the stiffness from my muscles as I left the couch. My body is not used to being inactive for so long.
At the station, my buddies and I often ran drills to keep in shape. I missed that. Couldn’t wait to get back at it. But right now, I was dedicated to keeping Savannah safe and that meant sticking around the homestead for a while, which I was just fine.
I decided to check my cameras one last time before leaving to prepare myself if necessary. All looked good, nothing out of the ordinary.
The rain drummed steadily against the windows. I grabbed the umbrella by the door, locked up, and headed out, my boots sinking slightly into the soggy ground.
The shortcut through the hedges I’d cleared a few days ago saved me from circling around the front. Savannah didn’t know about the new opening yet—I’d meant to tell her—but tonight wasn’t the time.
When I reached her porch, she was already holding the door open, her worried eyes scanning the yard behind me.
“Good evening, my lady,” I greeted with an exaggerated bow, hoping to coax a smile. It worked—just barely—but her shoulders were still tight with tension.
“You look stressed,” I added gently.
“Oh, gee, thanks,” she said, managing a half-hearted laugh. She stepped aside to let me in, our bodies brushing as I passed. My pulse quickened, but I forced myself to focus.
The faint sound of splashing water came from down the hall. Savannah glanced that way and sighed. “I’ll be right back. Alana’s in the bath. I don’t like leaving her alone, but I drained the tub already.”
“Take your time,” I assured her.
She disappeared down the hall, and I stood awkwardly in the living room, taking in the cozy space. Toys were scattered across the floor, and the scent of something delicious lingered in the air. Despite the warmth of her home, the unease she radiated earlier stuck with me.
A few moments later, she reappeared with Alana in her arms, her blonde curls damp. Alana poked at Savannah’s cheek, giggling when her mother playfully swatted her tiny hand away.
“She keeps me sane,” Savannah said softly, her eyes warm as she looked at her daughter.
“She’s a treasure,” I agreed, and Alana beamed at the compliment, reaching for me.
Watching them together, I felt a fierce need to shield them from anything—or anyone—that could disrupt this fragile peace.
Savannah smiled at the interaction, but it quickly faded. “Roger called earlier,” she said. “I told him to go through the proper channels if he wants to see her, but he... he doesn’t listen.” She hesitated, clearly debating how much to say in front of Alana.
Her voice wavered as she spoke. I could see the weight of the past pressing on her, each word laced with an unease she tried to hide.
“How many times has he called?” I asked, keeping my tone neutral.
She shifted uncomfortably. “Twice today, first he left a voice message demanding I answer his call, so I spoke with him the next time. but there’ve been hang-ups from unknown numbers. I don’t want to talk to him in front of her.” She looked at Alana and patted her bottom.
"I’m thinking about getting a lawyer, but...” She trailed off, her eyes flicking to Alana.
“Lawyers aren’t cheap,” I finished for her.
“No, they’re not,” she admitted, bouncing Alana on her hip to keep her from squirming.
“You shouldn’t have to deal with this alone,” I said firmly. “We’ll figure it out.”
Her gratitude was evident in her expression, though she didn’t say anything.
I looked at Alana, who reached out with her arms so far, she toppled a little bit forward and Savannah had to catch her so she wouldn’t fall.
“Whoa, darling, be careful.” She set her on the floor. Alana toddled over to me, her arms up, and I swept her up into a hug, letting her climb onto my lap. Savannah watched us, her lips curving into a small smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.
“And how are you today, little one?” I asked.
“Good, Mr Fireman.” she responded with a wide smile.
Alana, was dressed in her pajamas, ” I turned my eyes to her mother. “Are you sending her to bed this early? It’s not even dinnertime. Maybe you’d like to go out to dinner?”
