Chapter 11 Meddling Friends
Meddling Friends
The monthly fire and rescue meeting should have been routine.
Chief Murphy running through call statistics, equipment maintenance schedules, and upcoming training sessions.
Wayne had attended hundreds of these over the years, half-listening while mentally working through whatever metalwork project was waiting in his barn.
Except tonight, he couldn't focus on anything except the empty chair beside him where Jake usually sat.
Jake was there—just on the other side of the room, deliberately avoiding him. Brandon too. They kept casting glances his way and whispering, clearly talking about him.
“Before we wrap up,” Chief Murphy said, “I want to recognize Wayne Drummond for maintaining what Fire Marshal Wygant called 'one of the safest private workshops in the county.' The inspection report was glowing.”
Light laughter rippled through the room. Wayne forced a tight smile and nodded, feeling the irony like a knife. His barn was perfectly safe. He'd made sure of that.
And he'd still managed to destroy everything that mattered.
“Also wanted to give everyone a heads up,” Murphy continued. “Our demonstration for the fundraiser is going to be something special. Wayne and Jessica Hartley have been working on an interactive glassblowing presentation that's going to blow away the competition.”
Have been working. Like it was still happening. Like Jess was still coming back.
The meeting broke up. Wayne headed for the door, but Jake and Brandon stepped into his path, arms crossed.
“We need to talk,” Brandon said.
“I'm tired—”
“Tough.” Jake grabbed his arm. “Storage room. Now.”
They steered him into the small room off the main bay, closing the door behind them. Wayne leaned against the table, already exhausted.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” Jake didn't waste time. “Jess came looking at apartments today. Monthly leases, Wayne. Because she's not sure she's staying in town.”
The words hit like a punch to the gut. “She told you that?”
“She told me she got a job offer. San Francisco. And she doesn't know if she's taking it.” Jake's expression was furious. “Want to guess why she's considering leaving?”
Wayne's throat closed up.
“You're doing it again,” Brandon said quietly. “Same thing you did with Amanda. Someone gets close, things get real, and you panic and push them away before they can hurt you.”
“That's not—”
“Yes, it is.” Jake cut him off. “Jess is good for you. You've been happier these past few weeks than I've seen you in five years. You actually smile now. You participate in conversations instead of just grunting responses.”
“She's not staying because of me,” Wayne said. “She's got her own life, her own career—”
“You're right,” Brandon interrupted. “She does. And she was building it here. Until you freaked out over a fire marshal inspection and used it as an excuse to push her away.”
Wayne slumped into a chair. “Her grandparents called without asking me—”
“To make sure their granddaughter was safe,” Brandon finished.
“Yeah, they overstepped. But Wayne, that's what families do. They worry. They interfere. They care too much.” He leaned forward.
“Is it really about the inspection? Or is it about the fact that letting Jess in means letting her family in? Means getting messy and complicated?”
The truth hit hard enough to hurt.
“I'm not saying anyone was heartbroken when Amanda left,” Brandon continued.
“She was trying to make you into someone you aren't. But Jess isn't Amanda.
She knew exactly what she was getting into.
She's been working in your barn for weeks, watching you respond to calls, dealing with your moods. And she wanted to stay.”
“Wanted,” Wayne repeated. Past tense.
“Yeah, wanted. Because you gave her reasons to leave instead of reasons to stay.” Jake held up his hands. “Would you please do yourself a favor and ask her to stay?”
“What do I do?” The words came out raw.
“You go tell her the truth,” Brandon said. “You apologize for being an idiot. You tell her how you feel. And then you give her a reason to stay that has nothing to do with guilt or obligation.”
“What if she says no?”
“Then at least you tried,” Jake said. “At least you didn't let fear make the decision for you. Again.”
Wayne looked between his two best friends—the guys who'd known him since high school, who'd watched him retreat after his mother died, who'd tried to pull him back out after Amanda left.
“She deserves better than me,” he said quietly.
“Probably,” Jake agreed. “But she chose you anyway. The question is whether you're brave enough to choose her back.”
Wayne drove to the Hartley house with his heart pounding and no idea what he was going to say.
The house was dark except for a light over the garage. Jess's apartment.
He forced himself out of the truck and climbed the exterior stairs.
His knock sounded too loud in the quiet night.
Nothing.
He knocked again.
The door opened. Jess stood there in sleep shorts and an oversized t-shirt, her hair messy, her eyes red like she'd been crying.
“Wayne.” Her voice was flat. “What are you doing here?”
“I need to talk to you.” His voice came out rough. “Please.”
She hesitated, then stepped back to let him in.
The apartment was tiny. Jess crossed the room and closed her laptop, but not before he glimpsed the Golden Gate Bridge on the screen.
“Jake told me,” Wayne said. “About the job offer.”
“He had no right—”
“I'm glad he did. Because otherwise I might not have realized until you were already gone.” Wayne moved closer. “Jess, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.”
“For what, specifically?” Her arms crossed defensively. “For pushing me away? For blaming me for what my grandparents did? For making me feel like I did something wrong?”
“All of it.” Wayne forced himself to meet her gaze.
“You didn't do anything wrong. Your grandparents were worried, and they overreacted, but you just mentioned something that happened.
That's normal.” He took a shaky breath. “I panicked. Not because of the inspection—the barn passed fine. I panicked because things were getting real. Because letting you into my space meant letting you into my life, and that meant risking—”
“Risking what?”
“Risking caring about someone who could leave.
Who could decide I'm not enough.” The words hurt less than they used to, but they still stung.
“Amanda told me I wasn't enough. That she couldn't do it—the firefighter life, the small town.
She said she deserved better. And I've spent years believing her.”
“I'm not Amanda,” Jess said quietly.
“I know. You're everything. You make me want things I thought I'd given up on. You make that barn feel like home instead of just a place to hide. You make me happy, Jess. Really happy. And that terrifies me.”
“Because you think I'll leave.”
“Because I think you should.” He saw her flinch and rushed on. “You've got this offer—this real career opportunity in San Francisco. And what do I have to offer? A barn and some metalwork and a guy who's too scared to—”
“Stop.” Jess's eyes were bright with tears. “Stop telling me what I should want. Stop deciding for me that you're not enough. That's not your call to make.”
“Then tell me what you want.” Wayne's breath caught.
“I know what I don’t want. I don't want you to go. I want you here. In my barn, in my life, in my bed. I want all of it.” His hands were shaking.
“I love you. I should have said it days ago, but I was too much of a coward.
I love you, Jess Hartley. And if you stay, I promise I'll work on the walls.
I'll try to be brave enough to deserve you.”
The tears spilled over. “That's not fair.”
“What's not fair?”
“Saying all of that when I'm trying to make a rational decision.” But she was smiling through the tears. “Give me a reason to stay that's not just about feelings. Something concrete.”
“The winter art fair,” Wayne said immediately. “You want to show your work, prove you can build a career here. Stay for that. Apply. Show everyone what you can do.”
“And after the fair?”
“After the fair, we figure it out together. Maybe you stay, maybe you go to San Francisco for a while and come back. Maybe we do long distance. I don't care, as long as we're trying.”
Jess studied his face for a long moment. “The fundraiser is in three days.”
“I know.”
“We haven't practiced since the fight.”
“We can practice tomorrow. Or we can wing it. I don't care about the fundraiser.” He reached for her hands, relief flooding through him when she let him take them. “I just care about you. About us.”
“I've decided,” she said quietly. “About the fundraiser.”
Wayne's heart stopped. This was it. She'd made her choice, and he had to respect it, even if it killed him.
“Whatever you decided, I'll support it.” The words came out steadier than he felt. He meant them, even though his chest was tight with fear. “I want you to have the career you deserve, Jess. Even if that means—”
“I'm staying.”
Wayne's breath caught. “What?”
“I will stay for the fundraiser.” A small smile played at her lips. “I might even apply to the winter fair. Zoey's been connecting me with galleries in Asheville and Atlanta—real interest, Wayne, not just maybes. I've got commissions lined up. I could build something here.”
“You're staying.” He said it like he needed to hear it again to believe it.
“For now. For my career. For the life I want to build.” She squeezed his hands. “Not because of you—though you're definitely a factor. But because this is where I can make the art I actually want to make. Where I can build something that's mine.”
Relief crashed over him so hard his knees went weak. “Jess—”
“But Wayne?” Her expression turned serious. “I need you to understand—I'm not staying so you can take care of me or rescue me or whatever. I'm building my own career. Making my own way. You get to be part of that if you want, but you don't get to be the reason for it.”
“I know.” He pulled her closer, close enough that their foreheads touched. “I don't want to be your reason. I just want to be part of your life. However that works. Whatever that looks like.”
“Yeah?” Her voice was softer now, hopeful.
“Yeah.” He kissed her forehead. “I love you. And I know that's not why you're staying, but I needed you to know. I love you, Jess Hartley. And if you'll let me, I want to be there while you build this career. Want to work beside you and watch you succeed and be so fucking proud of you.”
She tilted her face up, and Wayne kissed her.
It was desperate and tender and full of everything he couldn't put into words. Jess made a small sound and kissed him back, her hands fisting in his shirt.
“I'm still mad at you,” she murmured against his mouth.
“I know.”
“And I'm still scared you'll panic again.”
“I probably will. But I won't run.” He kissed her again, slower. “I'm going to be brave enough—for you, for us.”
“Okay.” She pulled back just enough to meet his eyes. “But Wayne? I need you to be honest with me. About what you want. About what you can handle. No more pushing me away and then apologizing.”
“I can do that.” He kissed her forehead, her cheeks, her mouth. “I'll do better. I promise.”
“Good. Because I love you too, you idiot.” Her smile was watery but genuine. “And I would love to make my staying here permanent, turn down the San Francisco offer. But I need to know you're in this for real.”
“I'm in this.” Wayne cupped her face in his hands. “All the way. Whatever it takes.”