Chapter Twelve
BUILT FOR MORE
Jack
It’s close to dinnertime by the time I make it home. After my date, I ran some errands and swung by the grocery store.
The house is too quiet when I get home.
It always is.
I toss my keys onto the table by the door, the metal clinking louder than it should. I shrug out of my jacket, drop it on the back of the same chair I always use, and stand there for a moment. Just... standing.
There’s no one waiting. No one asking how it went. No one filling the silence.
I’m used to that. I’ve built a life around it. But tonight?
Tonight, it feels a little heavier.
I head for the kitchen, not really hungry—just needing something to do with my hands. The fridge hums when I open it—leftover takeout, a beer or two, nothing worth the effort. I close it again.
She was worth the effort.
Kate.
She was nervous. I could see it the moment she walked into that café, eyes darting around like she wasn’t sure she belonged there. But damn, she lit up the second she started talking. Her laugh? I didn’t expect that. Didn’t expect to want more of it.
I rub a hand over my jaw, pacing.
The date was supposed to be simple: one hour, coffee, no pressure. But she made it easy. She made me forget about everything else for a while—work, the kid we pulled from the water, the way the job sticks to you even when you scrub your hands raw.
For the first time in a long time, it felt good to talk about something other than rescue stats and gear maintenance.
And now I’m standing in my kitchen like an idiot, replaying it all.
I grab a bottle of water, twist off the cap, and lean against the counter. The clock on the stove blinks 4:32 PM—too early to call it a night, too late to call anyone else.
I take a long pull from the bottle, letting the quiet settle. The thing about being alone is that it gives you time to think. Too much time, sometimes.
Kate’s different. Strong, like she’s held the world up for too long but hasn’t let it crush her. She reminds me of someone.
Andi.
Stubborn as hell, once self-reliant, but underneath it... there’s something more. I’ve known her since she was a kid. I’ve watched her turn into a force of nature who doesn’t take shit from anyone. She’s like me in that way—built walls so high that no one bothers to climb them.
I get it. I do.
But now? I don’t know. Maybe it’s seeing her like this—grown, on her own, carrying that same weight I’ve been carrying—and realizing I have more to give than just a check-in now and then.
She’s not my kid. But part of me still wants to protect her like she is.
I drain the rest of the water and set the bottle down with a quiet thud.
This used to be enough: work, routine, silence.
Now?
Now I’m not so sure.
I glance at my phone. No messages. No calls. Just the same blank screen waiting.
I swipe it open anyway. No new notifications from Kate, but I scroll back to our last message, my thumb hovering as if maybe, if I stare at it long enough, it’ll change something.
It doesn’t.
I put the phone down and run a hand through my hair.
Yeah. It’s going to take more than one date to figure this out.
But for the first time in a while, I want to try.