Chapter 8
Hallie
I’m not grumpy. I’m selectively enthusiastic.
~ Unknown
Greyson’s driving the truck. We left the engine at the station since it’s just the two of us—a fire safety assembly for the third and fourth graders at J. Q. Adams Elementary.
He’s so stern right now, staring out the window like the statue of a man he is. No smile. No small talk.
I almost laugh at the thought of Greyson making small talk. A soft beat of a laugh pulses through me and he glances over. I school my face. He returns his eyes to the road.
He’d probably rather contract Rocky Mountain spotted fever or hand, foot and mouth disease than chat about vapid topics, and I’m not sharing anything about my personal life with the guys on crew—not yet.
I need to prove myself here. I don’t want their pity or sympathy.
I’m aiming for respect—the kind I’ll earn over time.
If they find out about Mia, I’ll be viewed as the single mom, not their peer.
I study Greyson, since he’s just … there.
His profile is chiseled like one of Michelangelo’s masterpieces.
His blond-brown hair swoops with waves, pushed back from his forehead and cropped close around his ears and neck.
His blue eyes glisten—two focused crystals that seem to catch every single detail of life.
He’s wearing his navy station shirt. Short sleeves snug around his arms. Those arms.
This time when he looks over at me, it’s as if he knows I’ve been shamelessly taking him in.
I feel myself blush, but I won’t look away. That would only serve as an admission of my guilt.
“Have you been to a school assembly before?” he asks calmly, even though his face says I’m so busted.
“Not since I was in school.”
“Any questions?” His tone is straightforward. All business. Which is good, of course. It’s not like we should be anything other than co-workers. All business. That’s good. Great, actually.
“Cody ran through what we’re doing.”
Greyson nods. He glances at me one more time.
His expression is like a puzzle. I wish he had a thought bubble over his head.
His eyes go distant for a second, then sharpen again.
His features reveal nothing. I would love to hear just one of his thoughts.
They’re about me. I can tell. What does he think of me? Something. That’s for sure.
We ride the rest of the way to the school in silence.
It’s one of two elementary schools in town.
And it just happens to be the school where Mia attends second grade now.
I keep my eyes to myself, staring out the front windshield and taking in the town of Waterford.
It’s a good town to call home. Not that I’m at home here yet, but I feel the potential.
This town could be our home for years to come.
Greyson parks along a spot at the curb in the parking lot and we hop out of the truck at the same time.
He grabs the kit we brought including blankets, an extinguisher and other props.
Then he rounds the front of the truck, waiting for me to walk forward, ahead of him.
It’s a small gesture, but one rooted in his personal brand of chivalry.
In the short time we’ve worked together, I’ve already noticed the inherent protectiveness that’s part of the bone-deep fabric of Greyson’s character. He can’t seem to help himself.
I pull my thoughts away from my stoic conundrum of a co-worker and focus on the reason we’re here.
Greyson leads the way toward the three-story brick building.
The words J. Q. Adams Elementary are embossed in the stone lintel.
He opens one of the heavy wooden main doors and I walk past him, down the wide tiled floor, into the office.
“We’re here for the assembly,” Greyson tells the woman behind the counter.
“Why, hello, Greyson,” she says with an effusive smile.
Greyson’s lips thin slightly and he gives her a neutral nod. Would it kill him to say hello? No. Not Mr. McGrumpypants. He’d rather conserve his words like a miser. I don’t know why I care. It’s obvious he gets the job done—whatever the job is.
“Hi,” I say, overcompensating for my monolith of a partner with a wider smile than usual. “I’m Hallie.”
“Oh, Hallie!” the secretary bubbles. “I’m Tori. I’ve heard so much about you. I hope the guys aren’t being too hard on you.”
“I can take whatever they’d dish out,” I tell her. “But, they’ve been great. Nice to meet you.”
“And Mia …”
I cut her off. “We’d better get to the assembly?”
My voice squeaks and my words tumble over one another. I don’t dare look in Greyson’s direction. He’d use his mind-reading laser eyes to expose my thoughts. And right now those thoughts are screaming, Please don’t tell him I have a daughter who attends this school.
“Yes, of course,” Tori says. “Greyson, you know the way to the auditorium?”
“I do,” he says, studying me for a beat and turning toward the door.
“Okay then,” Tori says.
Greyson walks into the hallway, pausing when he senses I’m not right behind him.
I turn and flash Tori a brief apologetic smile. I probably came across like a crazy person. Or someone raised in a barn. By cows. Sorry, it’s my first day actually being around people. I’m just learning how not to moo and chew cud.
Tori smiles back. I make a mental note to stop by the school tomorrow on my day off to explain myself.
“Thank you,” I say.
“Anytime, Hallie.”
Greyson’s already moving out the door. I lengthen my strides to catch up with him.
He follows protocol like he’s in the military—everything having to be just so.
A meticulous machine of a man. Only, I get the feeling there’s a very different side to him.
Maybe that’s just wishful thinking. I used to be a dreamer—years ago.
I still tend toward the sunny side of life, assuming the best of people.
The kids are seated in the bleachers when we arrive. Their excited chatter escalates at the sight of us. Greyson walks over to a man in a crisp white shirt, slacks and a tie. I join them.
“Mr. Sutherland, Mark,” Greyson says. “This is Hallie, the new rookie at the station.”
It may be the most words I’ve heard him string together since I met him.
“Hi,” I say. “Nice to meet you.”
Mr. Sutherland extends his hand. “Mark Sutherland, principal of J. Q. Adams. Nice to meet you, Hallie. My wife will be so jealous. She’s been dying to meet the new woman on the crew.”
I smile. “Well, I hope I get to meet her sometime.”
Greyson stands next to me, his arms folded over his chest as if he’s just barely enduring all these social pleasantries.
This man. I could host a talk show beside him and he’d stand there like a life-size cardboard cutout of a hot firefighter.
Principal Sutherland seems unfazed by Greyson’s lack of engagement. He must be used to it.
“Well, I’ll leave you to it,” Principal Sutherland says. “I’ll introduce you and then you can present. When you’re finished I’ll come back up to dismiss the kids back to their classrooms.”
After Principal Sutherland quiets the children, he says, “And now I’ll hand things over to Lieutenant Stone and Firefighter Collins. Let’s give them a warm J. Q. Adams welcome.”
The kids erupt in cheers because they can. It’s like the unleashing of a sound cannon. The squeals and applause, cheers and stomping of feet reverberate off the tall rafters and walls. Teachers make shushing gestures, and the crowd of children eventually subdues enough for us to present.
Greyson does the bulk of the work. His whole demeanor changes when he addresses the kids. It’s like the lifting of a curtain at a play. All anyone saw was a velvet drape, and now? Now he’s all animation, engagement, storytelling and heart.
My skin prickles. The shift is so sudden and jarring, it knocks me off balance. I force myself to focus on my role as fire safety instructor instead of attempting to decipher the confusing paradox that is Greyson Stone.
“You’re old enough to know that fire is dangerous,” Greyson says with a warmth and respect that has every child’s eyes honed in on him with full attentiveness. “We’re not here to tell you not to play with matches. You already know that, don’t you?”
Heads bob in acknowledgement. No one has the impulse to be unruly.
That’s how commanding he is—how in charge and stable.
It’s like his presence is this ballast and everyone around him is waiting to hear whatever words drip from his full mauve lips so they can align themselves with his instructions.
I’ve never seen anything like it. I wonder what my mom’s dog would do if Greyson ever met him.
I picture Greyson saying, “Down, Daddy,” and practically burst into laughter on the spot.
“How many of you have younger sisters or brothers?” Greyson asks.
A good portion of the room raises their hands.
“So, you’re a leader in your home. That means, if there’s ever a fire, you can help everyone stay safe.”
That’s a huge responsibility, but when I look out across the faces on the bleachers, backs straighten and chins lift. They’re rising to Greyson’s expectations.
Surprisingly, Greyson steps back, making room for me and introducing me so I can teach a portion of our presentation.
“This is our newest firefighter at Waterford Fire, Firefighter Collins. She’s going to tell you about how to exit safely in a fire, the importance of smoke detectors and alarms, and how to help firefighters if they come to rescue you.”
I take over, aware of Greyson’s eyes on me the whole time I run through checking doors for heat, staying low under smoke, and meeting at a designated safe zone.
We close with the age-old acronym of R.A.C.E. and then we call up a few volunteers to demonstrate and practice the Stop, Drop, and Roll method for extinguishing flames if they are on your body.
Principal Sutherland takes the mic, thanks us, and then excuses the children back to their classrooms when we are finished.
I promised Mia I’d try to stop by the door of her classroom to wave at her before I leave the school, so I tell Greyson, “I have a quick stop to make. Can I meet you at the truck?”
His brow furrows just the slightest, but he nods. Curtain’s closed, folks. Show’s over. He’s back to being all surly and aloof.
We walk out of the auditorium side-by-side, I turn down the hallway in one direction while he continues toward the main doors. I’m about ten feet away from him when he pivots and says, “Good job, Collins.”
I can’t even turn to look him in the eyes. He’ll see my shock and the way his words melt straight through me like a pat of butter in a warm pan.
“Thanks,” I say over my shoulder.
Then I walk to Mia’s classroom and peer through the window cutout in the door.
She sees me and waves, practically vibrating in her chair with excitement.
Her teacher, Mrs. Goddard—Noelle, as she insisted I call her—notices Mia and turns toward me with a smile.
I smile back, then head out to join Greyson in the truck.
He’s sitting in the driver’s seat, staring off into the distance when I approach.
I can’t help myself. The thoughts of Greyson meeting Henry Cavill—the dog, not the actor—keep rolling through my head, so once we’re back on the road I ask, “Do you have any pets?”