"I can be both," Ruby declares with the confidence only a seven-year-old can muster.
"I believe it." Dallas looks at us again. "So? What do you say? Give me two hours with her, and I'll bring her back full of stories and probably begging for her own fire truck."
Cade steps closer to me, his voice low. "Dallas is good people. She'll be safe with him."
I can see that. Can see it in the way he's talking to Ruby like she's a person, not just a kid. In the way he's offering us this gift of time without making it feel like charity.
"Okay," I agree. "Two hours. But Ruby, you listen to Captain Dallas, okay? And no touching anything he tells you not to touch."
"I promise!" Ruby is already moving toward the door. "I'll be so good. The best. Can we go now?"
Dallas laughs. "Let me give you my number," he says to me, pulling out his phone. "In case you need to reach her, or if plans change. And I'll text you when we're heading back."
We exchange numbers, and I crouch down to Ruby's level. "Be good, okay? And if you get scared or want to come back early—"
"Mom, I'm going to see fire trucks." Ruby rolls her eyes with the exasperation of someone who clearly thinks I'm worrying over nothing. "I'm not going to want to come back early."
"Okay, okay." I smooth her hair back, press a kiss to her forehead. "Have fun."
Cade crouches beside me. "Listen to Dallas. He's the captain, which means he's the boss. What he says goes."
"Got it." Ruby throws her arms around Cade's neck in an impromptu hug that clearly catches him off guard. "Thanks for letting me meet Scout, Dad. She's the best cat ever."
I watch Cade's arms come around her, watch his eyes close briefly like he's trying to memorize the feeling. "See you in a bit, Ruby."
And then they're gone, Ruby's excited chatter fading as Dallas leads her down the stairs. The door clicks shut, and suddenly it's just Cade and me, alone in his small apartment with nothing but eight years of complicated history between us.
Chapter 9 - Cade
The silence after the door closes is deafening.
Sierra's still standing near the door, her arms wrapped around herself in that way she used to when she was nervous. I'm frozen by the couch, my heart pounding harder than it did during this morning's call, because at least with burning buildings, I know what I'm supposed to do.
This? This terrifies me more than any fire ever has.
"That was kind of Dallas," Sierra says finally, her voice soft. "To take Ruby like that."
"He's good at reading situations." I force myself to move, to walk to the kitchen and give myself something to do with my hands. "Probably figured we needed to talk without an audience."
"He was right." Sierra follows me, hovering at the edge of the kitchen like she's not sure if she's allowed to enter my space. "We do need to talk. About custody arrangements, visitation schedules, how we're going to make this work—"
"That's not what I want to talk about." The words come out rougher than I intend, and I see Sierra's eyes widen slightly. "I mean, yes, we need to figure out the logistics. But first—" I turn to face her fully. "First, I need to say things I should have said eight years ago."
Sierra goes still, her brown eyes locked on mine. "Cade—"
"Please. Let me… I need to get this out." I lean back against the counter, gripping the edge to keep my hands steady. "When I left, I told you it was because I needed a fresh start. That I couldn't heal in that town with all the reminders. And that was true. But it wasn't the whole truth."
"What do you mean?" Her voice is barely a whisper.
"I mean I was drowning, Sierra. After the fire, after the people I couldn't save, I was going under, and I was terrified I was going to drag you down with me." The words taste like ash, like all the smoke I've inhaled over the years. "Every time you looked at me with that patience, that understanding, I felt like I was failing you. Like I was this broken thing you were trying to fix, and I couldn't stand it."
"You weren't broken," Sierra says fiercely, taking a step closer. "You were traumatized. There's a difference."
"Maybe. But I couldn't see it then. All I could see was—" I have to stop, swallow hard against the tightness in my throat. "I could see you watching me fall apart, and I knew you'd stay. That you'd stand by me through all of it because that's who you are. And I couldn't let you sacrifice your life for someone who might never be whole again."
"So, you made the choice for me." There's no accusation in her voice, just understanding. "You decided what I could handle."
"Yeah. I did." I meet her eyes. "Just like you decided what I could handle when you found out you were pregnant. We're both guilty of it, Sierra. Both guilty of trying to protect each other by making unilateral decisions."
