Chapter 32
STELLAN
Two weeks pass after the fire before I finally work up the nerve to do this. The fire should have scared me away from big decisions. Instead, it did the opposite.
When that roof shifted under my boots and Phoenix grabbed my jacket, I didn’t think about the station. I didn’t think about the truck, the crew, or even the job I’ve spent my whole life chasing.
I thought about Hartley, about Alaska, about not getting to come home to them again.
That realization has been haunting me since.
So I bought the house. I signed the paperwork three days ago, and I still haven’t told Hartley.
I put in for the transfer first. Belvidere took me and I said yes before I got to the parking lot. Smaller house, smaller calls, the only downfall is I'll go in near the bottom again, lose my seniority, lose my company, probably lose the ladder for a while.
Rhys asked if I was sure. I told him I've spent ten years chasing the big ones and I'd rather spend the next ten getting home.
The key’s in my pocket while I stand in his apartment and watch Alaska play school with her stuffed fox inside the living room. Hartley laughs at something she does, and the sound hits me square in the chest.
I want that sound in my house.
Every day.
Not just the nights I stay over or the weekends.
Every day.
“You two want to go for a drive?”
Hartley leans back against the couch cushion and crosses his arms.
“A drive where?”
“Somewhere I want to show you.”
His eyes narrow slightly. “That sounds like a trap.”
“Come on.” I smile. “Trust me.”
Alaska claps like this is the best idea anyone has suggested all day. Hartley sighs like he’s lost this argument already.
“Fine.”
Ten minutes later Alaska climbs into the back seat with fox already tucked under one arm.
Hartley settles into the passenger seat but doesn’t put his seatbelt on right away.
“You’re up to something,” he says.
“I’m not up to anything.”
“That’s the least convincing statement you’ve ever said.”
I smile and pull away from the curb. Someone honks two cars back because patience doesn’t exist in Chicago. Alaska hums quietly in the back seat while she presses her face against the window to watch everything pass.
Hartley rests his elbow against the door and turns his head toward me.
“Where are we going?”
“You’ll see.”
He narrows his eyes slightly, but doesn’t push. That alone tells me he trusts me more than he wants to admit.
Traffic thins once we leave the city and the buildings start to fall away behind us. The highway stretches out in long gray lines and the sky opens wider above the road.
My grip tightens slightly on the steering wheel. This is the part where I could still turn around.
Hartley notices the change in scenery before long. His head turns slowly as neighborhoods shift from tight city blocks to quiet streets with trees and front yards big enough for kids to run through.
“Are we going to visit your parents again?” he asks quietly.
“Kinda.”
“This is that little town I liked.”
“It is.”
Hartley looks out the window again while Alaska taps excitedly at the glass.
“I could live somewhere like this,” he murmurs quietly.
Good. Because that is exactly what I am about to ask him to do.
The words sit between us while we pull onto another street. I slow the truck and pull into the gravel driveway. Hartley looks over at me with confusion written all over his face.
I park in front of the garage and turn the truck off.
Hartley stares out the windshield for a second before he looks back at me.
“Who’s house is this? Did your parents move? Is this another relative’s place?”
I shake my head once. “No.”
Alaska is already unbuckling in the back seat. She pushes the door open and hops down onto the sidewalk while dragging fox with her. The front yard isn’t huge, but it has enough grass for a kid to run across without hitting the street in three steps.
She runs straight toward the porch.
Hartley and I follow behind her.
The front door unlocks with a quiet click when I turn the key. The house still smells like fresh paint and clean wood. Sunlight spills through the windows across the hardwood floors, lighting up dust that floats lazily in the air.
Alaska walks inside, her footsteps echoing lightly across the empty living room while she looks around with wide, curious eyes. She taps the wall once, then spins in a slow circle before running toward the hallway.
Hartley stays near the doorway.
His gaze moves slowly across the room: the windows, the open floor plan, the staircase leading up toward the second floor.
“You bought this,” he says.
“Yes.”
He walks farther inside, footsteps slower now.
“Stellan.”
His voice holds a quiet warning that tells me his brain is already trying to run ahead of whatever I’m about to say.
Alaska appears again from the hallway and grabs my hand, tugging me toward the back of the house.
I let her pull me along.
The kitchen opens up behind the living room. Cabinets line one wall, and a wide window looks out over the backyard. The grass stretches farther than the front yard, with enough space for a small garden or a swing set.
Alaska presses her hands against the glass and stares outside.
Hartley steps beside me and follows her gaze.
“That’s a lot of yard,” he says.
“Yeah.”
He turns toward me slowly.
“You’re really moving out here?”
The words land like he’s already accepted it.
I take a breath. “No.”
His brows pull together. “What do you mean no?”
I glance toward Alaska. She pushes the back door open and runs outside without waiting for permission, fox trailing behind her while she explores the grass like she already owns the place.
I turn back toward Hartley. “I didn’t buy this for just me.”
He stays completely still. “I don’t understand.”
“I bought it for us.”
The words sit in the air between us.
Hartley doesn’t move. His expression shifts slowly as the words catch up to him.
“You’re serious,” he says.
“Yes.”
"You bought a house." His voice goes flat. "You bought a house and you didn't ask me."
"No," I say. "I didn't."
"I've spent a year making every decision alone. Every single one. And you just—" he stops and looks at the empty room. "You picked a school district. You know that, right? You bought a house and you picked where she goes to school and you didn't ask me."
I don’t even flinch, because I did do that and I didn’t even think about it. "Yeah."
"That's it? Yeah?"
"I'm not going to tell you you're wrong." I step closer and rest my hands lightly on his arms. “I kept looking at houses because I wanted space for Alaska to run around outside. I wanted a kitchen where you don’t have to turn sideways to pass someone. I wanted somewhere that felt like a place people stay instead of somewhere they pass through. I didn’t mean to take choices from you, I just wanted to prove to you I’m in this for the long haul.”
Hartley stares at me like his brain can’t decide how to process what I just said.
“I thought you were leaving,” he says quietly.
“I know.”
He looks toward the backyard where Alaska is now spinning in a wide circle with her arms stretched out.
“I don’t know what to say,” he says after a second.
Silence stretches between us for a minute before Alaska runs back through the door and grabs Hartley’s hand, tugging him toward the yard again.
Hartley laughs softly despite himself.
“Okay, I’m coming,” he says to her.
She pulls him outside and points toward the far end of the yard. I step onto the porch behind them. Hartley stands in the grass watching Alaska explore every inch of the yard while she drags fox through the clover.
He looks back at me.
“You’re serious about this,” he says.
“Dead serious.” I take a breath. “Move in with me.”
He freezes again.
The wind moves through the trees above us, and Hartley looks from the house to the yard and then back at me.