Page 36 of Falling For You

The street was still busy. Kids moving between houses, parents clustered on the sidewalk, porch lights glowing up and down the block. A toddler in a bumblebee costume held onto her mother's hand. A group of boys in matching superhero capes argued about whose house to hit next. A father carried a sleeping pirate on his shoulder while his older kids ran ahead.

I leaned against the cruiser and watched him turn the corner.

My dad carried me like that. He wasn't always home for Halloween. When he was, we'd walk the block together, just the two of us, and he'd let me lead. I picked the houses and he carried the candy when my bag got too heavy. When he had to work, he'd bring home whatever candy was left at the precinct and set up a movie night. Popcorn, blankets on the couch, something scary enough to make me cover my eyes but not scary enough to give me nightmares. He always got that balance right.

I was still watching the street when I saw them. A man in full Gandalf costume: the beard, the robe, the staff, not a detail out of place. Beside him, holding his hand, was a tiny Frodo dressed in a brown cloak and a vest, a plastic ring clutched in the fist that wasn't holding her father's hand.

Birdie spotted me before Wyatt did. "Daddy, it's the princess cop from school!"

She tugged his hand and pulled him toward me.

"Well, look at you." I crouched down to Birdie's level. "You're the most adorable little hobbit I've ever seen."

Birdie beamed. She held up the plastic ring. "I'm Frodo! I have to take it to Mordor."

"That's a very important mission." I nodded seriously.

Wyatt was watching me with that grin. "I'm impressed, Officer Walsh. You know the lore."

"I read the trilogy twice, Brooks."

"Three times." He held up three fingers. "Cried at The Return of the King."

"I thought firefighters didn't know how to read?"

He chuckled, and the fake beard shifted on his face. "I do."

"You don't look it."

"I get that a lot."

I smiled before I could catch it. So did he. For a second I forgot I was in uniform, standing on a sidewalk in the middle of a shift. I was smiling at a man dressed as an elderly wizard, and I couldn't stop.

Birdie tugged Wyatt's hand. "Daddy, there's more houses!"

"Alright, alright. We're going." He lifted the hand with the staff in it. "Happy Halloween, Officer Walsh."

"Bye, Princess Officer!" Birdie waved with her ring hand.

"Safe travels to Mordor, you two."

He turned and let Birdie pull him down the sidewalk. The staff tapped against the concrete with every step. Birdie's cloak dragged behind her, plastic ring out, raised in her fist like she was leading a charge.

I watched them go. The big firefighter wizard and his tiny hobbit, walking hand in hand under the streetlights, moving at the speed of a six-year-old with a pillowcase full of candy and a mission she was taking very seriously.

I'd seen Wyatt in a dozen scenes. Every version of him came with that grin, that charm, that constant need to say something that would make me roll my eyes.

This was a different man.

"Alright, I'm good." Doug was walking toward the cruiser, keys in hand. "Did I miss anything?"

I looked at him. Then back at the empty corner.

"No. Quiet night."

CHAPTER 15

Target Practice