Page 80 of Stuck with the Hero Next Door

“It’s just a scrape. The helmet shifted when we were pulling the hose.”

She gave me a disbelieving look, disappeared into her bathroom, then came back holding a wet washcloth and a first aid kit.

I grabbed her hands before she could grab the kitchen chair. “Shower first, clean up later.” I kissed her on the nose and went to shower before she could protest.

After I’d showered and was smelling a whole lot better, I stepped out to find Cassie in the kitchen, popping open a can of soda she’d stashed in the back of the pantry like contraband. I crept up behind her, slipped my arms around her waist, and kissed the nape of her neck.

She laughed, the sound quick and surprised, and turned to face me. For a moment, she slipped away, just long enough to pull out a chair and gesture for me to sit. When she settled across from me, her smile faded into that sharp, steady focus she usually reserved for students who swore the dog had eaten their homework.

I sank into the chair, suddenly feeling like a kid called to the principal’s office.

“Your helmet shifted, huh?” She shook her head, disbelieving.

“Hold still,” she instructed, using an alcohol wipe to clean the wound, then dabbing at the scrape with an antiseptic wipe that stung more than the injury itself.

“You don’t have to⁠—”

“Yes, I do,” she said simply. “Now hold still, you’re as bad as my students.”

Her actions spoke volumes. I was almost willing to overlook the student comment, but I’m not that kind of guy. Naturally, I had to tease her, just a little, so I reached out and tickled her side.

“Am not.” I protested as she doubled over in laughter. I’d been taking care of people for most of my adult life. First in the military, then here in Everwood, looking out for family, neighbors, retired military, and anyone else who needed help. It was who I was, what I did, so automatic I rarely thought about it.

But having someone want to take care of me? That was new territory.

“There,” she said, pressing a bandage over the cleaned scrape. “Much better.”

Her fingers lingered on my face for a moment, tracing the edge of the bandage. I caught her hand and pressed it flat against my cheek. Her palm was soft, and her touch made everything feel right.

“Cassie,” I started, then stopped.

“What?”

“I love you.”

The words came out simple and certain, without the elaborate buildup. Just the truth, plain and clear.

Her face lit up. Curiosity melting into joy.

“I love you too,” she said, and her voice carried the same simple certainty mine did. “I’ve been in love with you for months. I just didn’t know how to say it.”

“Months?”

She nodded. “Since the day I got the job at the school. Maybe even before that. I kept telling myself it was friendship, or just the comfort of having someone in my life. But it was love.”

“What was it?” I teased, clearly wanting to hear it again.

“Love,” she said again, smiling. “Complicated, inconvenient, absolutely terrifying love.”

I laughed, pulling her closer until she was curled in my lap, her head on my shoulder. “Why terrifying?”

“Because I’d never felt anything like it before. Because it made me want things I never thought to want. Because loving you meant admitting that this place, this life, wasn’t a part of the plans I’d made before I got here.”

“And now?”

“Now I know it is.” She tilted her head to look at me, her eyes bright. “I have a feeling you were always a part of the plan. I just didn’t realize it. Until now.”

I kissed her again, slower this time. She melted against me and made that small sound when my hand tangled in her hair. This was right. All of it. The weight of her in my arms, the taste of her lips, the way she held onto me. She’d finally found something she didn’t want to let go of.