Chapter 4 - Stella
I've just changed into fresh socks when there's a soft knock at my door. For a moment, my heart leaps thinking it might be Luke, but instead, a pretty redhead in her early twenties pokes her head in.
"Hi! I'm Sadie, the dispatch assistant," she adds with a bright smile. “I thought you might like some company and actual clothes that fit."
She holds up a shopping bag, and I could almost cry with relief.
"You're an angel. Please come in."
Sadie bounces into the room, her energy infectious.
"I grabbed some basics from the store down the street. Dad mentioned you're about my size." She starts pulling out items: comfortable leggings, soft t-shirts, and essential toiletries.
"Your dad?" I try to sound casual. "Luke didn't mention having a daughter."
"He doesn't mention much of anything personal," she rolls her eyes fondly. "But I've never seen him like this before. He spent the whole night at the hospital! Usually, we can't even get him to take a lunch break."
I feel my cheeks warm. "He was just being thorough."
"Thorough?" Sadie laughs. "Dad hasn't shown this much interest in anyone since my mother left. Between you and me, it's about time he found someone to settle down with."
"Oh no, it's not like that—" I start to protest, but we're interrupted by a commotion at the door.
"Is she awake?" a voice whispers loudly.
"Shut up, Danny, you'll wake her if she's not!"
"You're being louder than he is, Max!"
Five firefighters crowd into my doorway, all trying to look casual and failing miserably.
"Hi," I say, amused by their attempts at stealth.
"See? She's awake!" The youngest one, Max, it seems, grins. "How are you feeling?"
"Like I inhaled a campfire, but otherwise okay."
"The Chief was really worried," Damon, a tall guy with kind eyes, says. "Never seen him hover like that before."
Max elbows him. "Yeah, spending the whole night at the hospital? That's a first."
"Are you sure you two hadn't met before?" Another one asks, his eyebrows waggling suggestively.
"I literally just moved here three weeks ago," I explain, trying to ignore the warmth spreading across my face. "Last night was the first time I met any of you."
A different one opens his mouth to say something else, but a sharp voice cuts through the chatter.
"Don't you all have jobs to do?"
The group parts like the Red Sea, revealing a stern-looking man. His arms are crossed over his chest, and his expression could freeze hell.
"Come on, Kane," Danny whines. "We're just checking on her."
"The city doesn't protect itself," Kane says flatly. "There's a three-car pileup on Main Street that needs our attention."
The mood shifts instantly. Despite their previous playfulness, all five men straighten up, their expressions becoming severe. They file out quickly, though not without a few friendly waves in my direction.
I notice Sadie's eyes following Kane as he turns to leave, her cheeks slightly pink. Well, well.
"So," I say once we're alone again, "Kane seems... intense."
"He's just dedicated to the job," Sadie defends quickly, then blushes harder when she realizes how eager she sounds.
"And you're dedicated to watching him, apparently."
She groans, flopping onto my bed. "Is it that obvious?"
"Only to someone who just watched you practically drool when he walked in."
"It doesn't matter," she sighs. "Kane's all about protocol and professionalism. He'd never look twice at the chief's daughter. Besides," she sits up, pointing a finger at me, "we should be talking about you and my dad."
"There's nothing to talk about," I insist, but my voice sounds weak even to my own ears.
"Please. Dad was calling the hospital every hour for updates when he couldn't be there himself, and then he rushed to stay at your side. And now you're staying here instead of a hotel? He's not exactly subtle."
"I'm just a victim he rescued—"
"Stella," Sadie interrupts, her expression serious. "Dad's been alone for a long time. After Mom left when I was little, he threw himself into work. The only women he talks to are elderly Mrs. Peterson, who occasionally brings cookies to the station, and Mrs. Camilla, who cuts his hair twice a year."
"Sadie..."
"I'm just saying, if there's any chance... don't let his grumpy exterior scare you away. He's a good man who deserves to be happy."
Before I can respond, another knock at the door reveals Luke himself, carrying a tray of food. His eyes narrow slightly at the sight of his daughter on my bed.
"Sadie. Don't you have dispatch duties?"
"Just helping Stella get settled, Dad," she says innocently, standing up.
As she passes him, she mouths 'go for it' at me behind his back.
Left alone with Luke, I'm suddenly very aware that I'm sitting on a bed, and he's looking at me with those intense blue eyes that seem to see right through me.
"I brought soup," he says gruffly. "Easy on the throat."
As he sets the tray down, I catch myself admiring how his uniform shirt stretches across his broad shoulders. Sadie's words echo in my mind: 'He deserves to be happy.'
But am I really the one that can make him happy? And more importantly, should I even be thinking about this when my life is literally in ashes?
Yet, as he fusses with arranging the tray just right, checking if I need anything else, I can't help but wonder what it would be like to break through that gruff exterior and find out what lies beneath.
"Would you like to join me?" I ask, gesturing to the chair near the bed. "I mean, unless you have chief duties to attend to."
He seems to debate internally before settling into the chair. It creaks under his weight.
"I should probably make sure you can actually eat without choking."
"My hero," I tease, remembering saying something similar earlier. "Always saving me from potential hazards."
A small smile tugs at his lips. "It’s my job."
"Is it your job to personally deliver soup too?" I blow on a spoonful, delighted to find it's actually quite good. "This is delicious. Please tell me Danny didn't make this."
"No, this is my recipe." He runs a hand through his hair, a gesture I'm starting to recognize as a nervous habit. "My mom's, actually. She always made it when we were sick."
"A firefighter who can cook. Be careful, or all the single ladies in Pine Valley will be starting fires to get your attention."
His face darkens slightly. "That's actually happened before. Mrs. Wilson from Cedar Street used to burn toast every Sunday morning deliberately."
I nearly choke on my soup, laughing. "You're kidding!"
"Wish I was. Had to have a very uncomfortable conversation with her daughter about it."
"Well, I promise my fire was completely accidental," I say, then immediately regret bringing it up as memories of last night flash through my mind.
The smoke, the fear, the feeling of being trapped...
"Hey," Luke's voice is gentle as he leans forward, his large hand covering mine. "You're safe now."
The warmth of his touch anchors me to the present.
"I know. Thanks to you."
His thumb absently strokes the back of my hand, sending shivers up my arm.
"Stella..." he starts, then seems to catch himself, pulling his hand back. "I should let you rest."
"Luke," I catch his wrist before he can stand. "Stay? Just for a little while? I... I don't want to be alone right now."
He settles into the edge of the bed, his expression softening. "Okay. But you should try to eat more."
I obediently take another spoonful of soup. "Tell me something about yourself. Something that isn't about being a firefighter."
He's quiet for a moment, considering. "I restore old motorcycles in my spare time. Have a whole garage full of them at home."
"Really? I wouldn't have taken you for a gearhead."
"No?" His eyebrow raises. "What would you have taken me for?"
"I don't know. Chopping wood shirtless in the forest, maybe? Rescuing wildlife? Something appropriately rugged and heroic."
A deep chuckle rumbles from his chest. "Sorry to disappoint."
"Oh, I'm not disappointed at all," I say before I can stop myself, then feel heat rush to my cheeks.