Once we’re back at the station and have checked over the truck and made sure everything is clean and where it should be, we spend time running through a few drills. It’s all shit that needs to be done, but the familiarity of it all makes it too easy for thoughts to wander back to the woman from the bar.
Tessa.
I get along with just about everybody I meet, but I’m not often drawn to people the way I was to her. She seemed reserved and cautious but still so full of life. It makes me think she doesn’t always get the chance to let loose, which only makes me wonder what consumes her during her day-to-day life.
Not to mention the soft fullness of her body was fucking intoxicating.
That night was better than I could have imagined, but it left me wanting more. More than just her name, the memory of her laughter, and the taste of her on my tongue. I woke up this morning with cold sheets and a hard cock, desperate for more of her. I don’t know if I did or said something wrong at some point during our night together that made her bolt while I was sleeping.
My brows pinch as I run through everything in my mind. We didn’t talk much afterward, and maybe that alone made things awkward for her. I didn’t want her driving home tired and insisted that she spend the night. Maybe that’s what made her uncomfortable? I was hoping for another round in the sheets. Another chance to commit her taste and every luscious curve to memory. I figured I would make coffee and breakfast when she woke up. Then, after she was fucked, fed, and caffeinated, I would convince her to give me her number before we said our goodbyes.
Ineedto see her again.
But I don’t know how I’m going to find her. Hartridge is a small town, so it shouldn’t be too hard, but I can’t exactly go around asking everyone I see if they know a woman named Tessa. We didn’t tell each other where we worked, but I do know she’s friends with Olivia and Tilly, so if I have to, I’ll start there.
Chapter ten
Tessa
“Andweevengotto hear the truck’s siren! It was so cool!” Jake immediately began telling me all about the visit from the local fire department as soon as I grabbed him from the pick-up line. Some of his words get jumbled together with how quickly he’s talking, but it only makes me smile more.
I’ve always been open with him about his dad. He knows that Ryan was a police officer and that he genuinely loved his job. It was all he ever wanted to do. Even when we were in high school, Ry never talked about doing anything else. I think if he hadn’t been able to become an officer, he would have wanted to be a dispatcher. Anything that would put him in a position to help those in need. It makes sense that Jake would be just as excited about the firefighters. Not only because, well, he’s a kid and the dangerous jobs are the cool ones, but also because their jobs involve helping people.
As Jake goes on about how much he loved getting to see the inside of the truck and how quickly the firefighters had to get their gear on, he begins to loop back around to howcoolit was to hear the siren. The repetitive conversation makes it all too easy for my mind to drift. I do my best to always stay present in the moment, but sometimes it’s a bit of a challenge when he begins to talk in circles. I know it’s a typical thing forhis age, but I can only have the same conversation so many times before my mind begins to wander.
Between picking up extra shifts at Lori's and helping him with his homework—writing his name, fifteen minutes of reading, and practicing the sight word of the week—after school, I’ve been able to keep my mind fairly occupied and off of Logan. Guilt has been eating away at my stomach since I raced out of his house in the middle of the night. Okay, it was more like early morning, but still. It’s not exactly my proudest moment, but what choice did I have? In all of the talking we did, the banter, the flirting, the easy conversations, not once did I mention being a mom or a widow.
Widow.
I hate that word. I hate that there’s even a specific title for someone who has lost their spouse, that it’s common enough toneeda specific word. I hate that it’s a word that can be used to describe me.
When I was younger, I remember making collages and vision boards, using pictures and words cut from magazines I hoped would fit my future. I knew plenty of my childhood dreams would never come true, and I knew plenty more would change. One dream that always remained true was my desire to be a mom, but I never imagined it would be something I did on my own.
I don’t need or want the person I’m interested in to look at me and only see Tessa, the widow. Tessa, the single mom. Tessa, the woman whose husband died trying to save someone. All of those identifiers have become part of who I am.
I can’t escape them.
But Logan saw the version of me that exists without all of the labels, even if that version was merely a facade.
However, if I’m going to entertain the idea of being with someone new, he needs to understand that while Ryan may be gone, he will always be a part of me and that Jake and I are a package deal. My son will always be my priority.
Getting to spend a night out like I did last weekend doesn’t happen often, and I don’t want it to. I’m past the point in my life where going out to bars and drinking with friends is my idea of a good time. Now, I would much rather spend the night in, wearing something comfortable and relaxing on the couch with a movie or a favorite TV show. I’m not opposed to getting dressed up for a nice night out, but when it’s over, in my pajamas and curled up with a blanket and a book is where I want to be. That all feels like information that should be shared before the first kiss.
And yet we did more than that.
I’m still partially in shock that it happened, but I have no regrets. If anything, I think I would regret it more if nothing had happened. If we had simply flirted and then gone our separate ways, I would probably be spending every possible moment wondering “what if.” Plus, Liv would totally be on my ass about it if I’d turned down the opportunity.
I don’t think I would’ve had the same kind of night had I met anyone else. Logan was different. His laugh was loud and genuine in that throw-your-head-back kind of way. When he smiled, it reached his eyes and made them crinkle at the sides. His focus remained on me as we talked, never once drifting to someone else.
For one blissful night, it felt like maybe there could be more to life after the end. Maybe, if I can be open to it and give it a real chance, I can still have the life I dreamed of all those years ago when I was just a girl building a future out of pictures and magazine cutouts.
“Can we get gummies?” Jake asks, bouncing on the balls of his feet as he grabs the side of the shopping cart.
“Only if you stay with me and don’t fuss,” I tell him. It’s always the rule when we go to the store, but I usually have to remind him. I didn’t realize how exciting a grocery store could be to a kid. I swear all it takes is a cool new design on the box of his favorite crackers, and he’s running off.
“I promise!” His little hand visibly tightens on the edge of the cart as though he’s determined not to let go.
We follow our usual path, making sure to grab heavier items like cans or drinks first, then start with the stuff that will go in the pantry, then produce, then finally anything refrigerated or frozen. It sounds like a lot, but I don’t buy too much at a time since it’s just the two of us, and the extra laps around the grocery store help burn off some of his remaining energy.
