Chapter 3
3
A nnoyed, stressed, and aching—those are just a few words to describe how I feel.
I’m in a daze as the paramedic asks me question after question, each one making my head throb more.
I can barely focus.
All I want to do is go home and cuddle with my little girl.
Moving to Wisconsin was supposed to be the fresh start Gabby and I both needed, but this moment reminds me how impossible it is to do everything on your own.
You can’t be everywhere at once.
You can’t do it all.
Guilt creeps in as I think about Aaron rearranging his day for me while I’m stuck here, not with Gabby where I should be.
“All clear,” the paramedic finally says, and I toss off the blanket.
My sole focus is getting the hell out of here.
“You sure you want to drive?” the tall firefighter with too blue of eyes asks, his deep voice cutting through the fog of my thoughts.
I glance up at him.
He’s got that military rigidity about him, the way he stands with his back too straight.
With his fire helmet off, I notice his shaggy blond hair.
He is too tall and too buff.
He’s hot.
That’s just another annoyance right now.
I don’t have time for hot.
I don’t have time for any of this.
“They said all clear,” I snap, already moving past him as fast as my legs will take me toward my car.
“You just put out a fire,” his voice follows, steady and infuriating.
“How about I drive you?”
“No,” I bark, my fingers already gripping the door handle.
I need to get home to Gabby.
Before I can open the door, he’s right there, and with a firm push, he shuts it.
The door slams closed, and my heart spikes—with anger and something else.
His hand is too close to mine.
His height and presence are imposing.
I’m frozen, taken aback by him asserting himself.
“What the fuck?!” I stare up at him, eyes narrowing as I glare.
He’s standing too close now, his tall frame making me feel small, which only pisses me off more.
“Let me drive you.” There’s something almost gentle in his tone, but I can’t focus on that.
“I wouldn’t feel right if you got behind the wheel.”
“How would you drive in that?” I snap, looking at his fire suit, trying to break the moment, to break whatever weird tension is building between us.
“Don’t worry about me.” A soft smile grows as he steps closer.
“Let’s get you home.”
The exhaustion hits me.
Part of me wants to give in, to let him drive me home.
But no.
I’ve done everything on my own for so long, and I can’t—won’t—start letting someone else take over now.
Especially not someone like him, someone so sure of himself.
“No,” I say again, though the edge in my voice is softer this time.
I reach for the door handle, but his hand doesn’t move.
“It seems like you’re used to handling things on your own,” he says, moving his hand back to his side.
“But let me help you. You’ve been through enough today.”
I pause.
Even if he’s right, I shake it off.
“I’ll be fine.” I have to be fine.
I don’t have any other option.
He doesn’t say anything, just stands there, watching me.
The firefighter is distracting in a way I don’t want to admit.
“You’re so stubborn,” he says, but there’s a hint of amusement in his tone.
“You have no idea.”
Pulling the door open again, my heart is still racing from the way he’s looking at me, the way he’s too close.
Silently, I slide into my car, turning it on, refusing to make eye contact with him.
I need to get to Gabby.
I step inside my home, a small, rented ranch-style place, closing the door quietly behind me.
The smell of smoke is following me, embedded into my clothes.
A reminder of the chaos from today.
Everything from the fire, the panic, the noise—it’s hard to shake off.
My hands are still trembling a little.
Despite trying to play it like I wasn’t bothered by what happened, I want nothing more than to crawl into bed with Gabby and forget this day ever happened.
I especially want to forget that I wasn’t able to pick her up when she was sick.
Dropping my keys into the bowl, I see Gabby asleep on Aaron’s chest.
Her brown hair is pushed to one side, and she’s in the same T-shirt dress and legging shorts from this morning.
At least she didn’t have a big spill today.
I look around the place, suddenly embarrassed about the clutter.
Toys fill the living room floor, and some papers are piled on the kitchen counter, otherwise nothing too embarrassing.
I would have tidied up if I knew someone was coming over.
I approach them slowly, not wanting to wake her.
“Let me check her temperature,” I whisper, seeing Gabby’s flushed face.
Walking down the hall to her room, I grab the ear thermometer from the basket on her dresser.
Her room is the only one that’s decorated.
She wanted a forest theme, and we went all out with a gigantic tree wall sticker and a canopy over the chair in her reading corner.
I smile, thinking back to doing this project with her, but then my mind races with what-if scenarios as I walk back to the living room.
Delicately putting the thermometer in her ear, the number flashes after a few seconds.
It’s still a fever, but a low one.
Four years into motherhood, you’d think I’d have a thicker skin by now, but every time she’s sick, I’m a wreck.
I want to pick her up and hold her close.
I want to feel her heartbeat against mine.
But I smell like smoke and chemicals, and those toxins are absolutely not touching her.
“Go shower,” Aaron whispers, reading my mind.
I open my mouth to protest, but he chuckles.
“We’re comfortable here,” he says, looking down at Gabby.
I’m grateful for Aaron.
Since meeting him in January when I applied to work at High Five, he’s been nothing but nice and become the brother I never had.
“You don’t need to be nap-trapped. Could you put her down in her bed? Then you can get on with your evening.”
Aaron shifts carefully, his hand cradling Gabby’s head.
She looks so small in his arms compared to when I carry her.
He effortlessly stands with all thirty-nine pounds of her; I’m jealous.
I usually groan when I stand with her in my arms.
“Want me to tell Sarah how good you are with Gabby?” I tease, trying to lighten the mood.
Aaron smiles.
“She already has baby fever,” he whispers.
“Keeps talking about how she’d turn one of the rooms in my house into a nursery and what she’d paint on the walls.”
“Well …” I nudge him with my elbow.
“Wife her up and give her a baby, then.”
“In time,” he says with a wink.
They would have the cutest kids, brunette with big eyes.
Then Aaron’s expression changes.
“Are you okay? Do you need anything?”
“I’m good. I just need a shower.”
Aaron disappears down the hall with Gabby, and I barely make it into the bathroom before the tears begin to well.
Stripping off my clothes, I want to throw them away.
I don’t ever want to be reminded of this day.
Everything that’s happened hits me, and the tears fall.
I wasn’t there for Gabby.
I wasn’t the one caring for her when she needed me.
I was at the bar, fighting a fire.
Under the water, I fall apart.
The hot stream washes away the grime, the smoke, whatever chemicals came out of the fire extinguisher—and I let myself sob.
Hopefully Aaron is already gone.
Hopefully no one can hear, but I can’t hold back my emotions anymore.
I don’t know how long I stand there, crying, but eventually, the water starts to calm me.
I audibly exhale, feeling lighter with every loud breath.
“You got this,” I encourage myself.
After I dry off, I peek in on Gabby.
She’s sound asleep in her toddler bed.
We’ll likely both be up in the middle of the night with her going to bed so early.
She didn’t have dinner.
When was the last time she went to the bathroom?
Should I wake her or let her keep sleeping?
I’ll let her sleep.
Carefully, I shut her door.
The house is silent.
Aaron must be gone.
In my towel, I confirm, looking around the house, and he is nowhere to be found.
I’ll have to get him a little something to thank him for all of his help today, I think, pacing to my room to get dressed.
Holding a pair of sweatpants, I hesitate.
My thoughts wander back to the firefighter.
Replaying the scene, I wish I wasn’t thinking about how good looking he was.
There were others there, but I didn’t notice them.
Who knew hot firefighters were real outside of TikTok?
Especially in a town as small as this one.
But the way he slammed my door, the way he commanded everything …
it made my heart race in a way it hasn’t in a while.
I can manage five minutes of self-care right now.
Orgasms are nature’s Ambian, right?
Grabbing my toy, I slide under the covers, still naked, and think back to his commanding presence, his blue eyes, how fucking hot he looked in his fire suit.
It’s been months since a man’s touched me.
I push out how depressing that is and refocus on my new kink—firefighters.
I’m about to press the setting to a higher intensity, but something else buzzes, and I groan.
It’s my phone.
Looking over, I see Nicholas O’Malley, the owner of High Five, is calling.
I turn off my toy.
I have to take this.
“Hey,” I answer, trying to sound chipper and normal but just sound frazzled.
“Claire, are you okay?” Nicholas asks, his voice full of concern.
“Thank you for jumping into action. I’m so grateful.”
“I’m fine,” I say, shifting under the covers to sit.
“It’s no problem.”
“I was thinking, how about you take the rest of the week off?”
“No way! The bar is going to be slammed for the holiday. You need?—”
“I’m serious,” Nicholas says, cutting me off.
“I need the money,” I say softly.
Life’s expensive.
“How about I give you two thousand dollars to cover your shifts?”
“What?” My mouth drops open in disbelief.
“No. That’s too much.”
“My bar could have burned down. Please, Claire. Enjoy the week off.”
Two thousand dollars.
That’s more than I’d make with my scheduled shifts.
It’s more than my stretch goal.
A lump forms in my throat as I try to respond.
“Thank you,” I whisper.
“Gabby’s going to be excited to spend all day with me tomorrow.”
“Aaron said she’s sick. Do you need anything? I can make a run to the store for you.”
“Nicholas, stop being so nice to all the single moms,” I joke, trying to lighten the mood.
Emily Brown is lucky to have a guy like Nicholas.
All the moms need a guy like him, someone so caring and nice.
The two of them have been unofficially campaigning for cutest couple in town since they started dating earlier this year.
“We’re good.”
“If you need anything, call me, Aaron—any of us.”
I smile, appreciating my work-family.
“Thank you, seriously.”
“Thank you . Seriously.” Nicholas chuckles before hanging up.
I stare at my phone, still in shock.
Two thousand dollars and a week off.
Today is no longer the worst day ever.