Page 10

“No,” I said too fast. “No, it’s fine. I just… I didn’t expect⁠—”

I stopped. Because if I kept going, I was going to say something ugly. Something I couldn’t take back.

There was a pause. Not uncomfortable. Just… full.

“I was thinking,” I said, forcing my voice to stay steady, “maybe I could come visit. Just for a bit. If you want.”

She hesitated. I felt it like a physical thing.

“Maybe,” she said slowly. “That could be… a possibility.”

Relief crashed through me so hard I nearly laughed—or whimpered.

“That’d be great,” I said, and caught myself before I added more. Before I pushed. “No pressure. Just—yeah. Let me know.”

We talked a little longer. About nothing important. About Bella’s summer break. About the weather in Gatlinburg. Normal things. The kind of conversation married people have without thinking.

That we used to have without thinking.

Then I ruined it.

“I should go,” I said abruptly. “I’ve got an early shift.”

“Oh. Okay.”

“I’ll call you,” I added. “Soon.”

“Okay,” she said again.

I ended the call before she could say anything else.

The silence in the house closed in around me, thick and suffocating.

I went straight to the fridge, yanked it open, and grabbed a beer. I didn’t bother with a glass. I twisted the cap off and took a long pull, the bitter burn grounding me.

I didn’t feel better.

I parked my truck outside the Jasper Creek fire station and cut the engine.

I smiled grimly. It was good to be here. A place where I could stop thinking about personal shit.

I was halfway out of the truck when I saw him.

Michael Rankin stood near the employee entrance, arms crossed, weight shifted to one hip. Waiting.

For me.

“Great,” I muttered.

“I was waiting for you,” Michael said as I approached.

“No, really? I thought you were waiting for the tooth fairy.”

“Why? You got a loose tooth?”

“Look, I don’t need a mother. Nor do I need a keeper.”

He snorted. “Could have fooled me.”