Chapter 2 - Max
I'm not usually awake this early unless I'm on shift, but the call about the Wilson garage fire came in just as I was getting home.
Typical Wilson situation—guy's been warned about that ancient space heater at least three times. Today's damage could have been avoided with a twenty-dollar extension cord and some common sense.
The coffee at Cedar Inn Motel isn't great, but it's hot and available, which is all I need after breathing smoke for the past hour. I'm scanning the nearly empty breakfast room when I notice her—a woman I've never seen before, sitting with a baby in a highchair. She looks away quickly when our eyes meet, something I'm used to when I show up in places still smelling like a bonfire.
I'm in the middle of telling Frank Peterson about the fire when the baby drops a stuffed cat on the floor. The woman is juggling a lot—bags, baby, breakfast trash—so I step over and pick it up.
"I think this belongs to the little lady," I say, holding out the worn cat toy. Up close, the baby is adorable—big curious eyes, wispy blonde hair, and that special kind of pudgy that only one-year-olds manage to be.
The woman hesitates before taking the toy, her fingers brushing mine for just a second.
"Thank you," she says, and something about her sweet voice makes me really look at her.
She's pretty in an understated way—light brown hair pulled back severely, eyes a warm hazel, features delicate. But it's the wariness in her expression that catches my attention. I recognize that look. I've seen it in the mirror.
"No problem," I reply, stepping back to give her space. "Cute kid."
The baby chooses that moment to let out a happy squeal and reach toward my shirt—specifically, toward the CFFD logo. Smart kid, recognizing quality when she sees it.
The woman's posture shifts slightly, less rigid.
"She likes your shirt," she explains, a small smile appearing. "She's obsessed with logos lately."
"Well, she's got good taste," I grin, offering my finger to the baby, who immediately grabs it with surprising strength. "The fire department's pretty cool."
"Say thank you, Amelia," the woman prompts, and the baby makes a sound that's definitely not "thank you" but is entirely charming.
"I'm Max, by the way," I say, realizing I should probably introduce myself before having a conversation with someone's baby. "Max Davidson."
I see the calculation in her eyes—the one people do when deciding how much personal information to share with a stranger.
"I'm Jennie," she finally offers. "And this is Amelia."
No last name. Interesting.
"New to Cedar Falls?" I ask, though it's obvious. You don't miss new faces in a town this size.
She nods. "Just got in last night."
"Visiting family?"
"No," she says, then seems to realize her answer is abrupt. "Just... looking for a change of scenery. Smaller town, you know?"
I do know, actually. "Well, you picked a good one. Cedar Falls is quiet, but in the good way." I wiggle my finger, still captured in Amelia's tiny fist.
That gets me a real smile, one that softens her entire face. "She's not usually this friendly with strangers. Must be the uniform."
"Not even a uniform," I laugh, glancing down at my smoke-scented department t-shirt. "Just what I threw on when the call came in. I was actually off-duty."
"You responded to a fire while off-duty?" Her eyebrows rise.
I shrug. "Small town. Everybody pitches in. Plus, I was right down the street when the call came through."
Amelia finally releases my finger, turning her attention back to the rescued cat toy. Jennie shifts her weight from one foot to another, and I recognize my cue to back off.
"Anyway, welcome to Cedar Falls," I say, lifting my coffee cup in a small salute. "If you need any recommendations—places to eat, things to do—feel free to ask me."
"Thank you," she says, and I can't tell if the formality in her tone is natural or a polite dismissal.
I head back to Frank's table, where he and his wife Helen are giving me matching knowing looks. They've been married fifty years, and now they think everyone needs to pair up.
"New girl seems nice," Frank says with zero subtlety.
"Leave the poor man alone," Helen chides, though she's clearly thinking the same thing.
I roll my eyes at them both. "You two are worse than my squad. I was just being friendly to a newcomer."
"Mm-hmm," Helen hums, turning a page in her newspaper.
I glance back to where Jennie was standing, but she's already gone, the door closing behind her. Something about her sticks with me—the careful way she holds herself, the protective way she cradles her daughter. I recognize a person carrying weight, though I couldn't say exactly what hers is.
Not that it matters. Cedar Falls sees its share of people passing through, and most don't stay long. Single moms with no family ties have it rough in small towns with limited opportunities. She'll probably be gone in a month.
I drain my coffee and stand. "Gotta head home and get some sleep before my actual shift tonight," I tell the Petersons. "You two behave yourselves."
"Always do," Frank says. "Though I wouldn't mind another garage fire if it means you introducing yourself to more pretty young ladies."
"Frank," Helen scolds, but she's fighting a smile.
I shake my head and leave, the bell jingling behind me. The morning air is crisp, autumn making itself known in the reddening leaves and the smell of woodsmoke from chimneys coming to life after summer's hibernation.
I love fall in Cedar Falls—the football games, the approaching Halloween festivities, the way the mountains look with their patchwork of colors.
As I walk the three blocks to my apartment, I spot Jennie and Amelia ahead of me on Main Street. She's stopped in front of the Help Wanted sign at the Flower Shop, Amelia balanced on her hip. Something compels me to cross the street, taking a different route home. Meeting new people is great, but getting involved in their lives is something else entirely. I learned long ago that keeping things casual is the best policy.
My phone buzzes with a text from Lewis: *Ollis having rough morning. Breakfast at Lou's?*
I sigh, knowing what that means. Ollis has been dealing with PTSD since that apartment fire last year, and his bad days seem to be coming more frequently. As much as I want my pillow right now, the brotherhood comes first.
*Give me 10 to shower,* I text back. *Don't let him order till I get there. You know how he stress-eats all the bacon.*
I pick up my pace, cutting through the alley behind the grocery shop to reach my apartment faster. As I jog up the stairs to my second-floor unit, I wonder if Jennie will get the job.
Not that it matters. In Cedar Falls, our paths will cross regardless. That's just how small towns work. You can try to keep your distance all you want, but eventually, you end up knowing everybody's business anyway.
I strip off my smoky clothes and step into the shower, letting hot water wash away the morning's excitement. As I close my eyes, I find myself remembering the genuine smile that briefly transformed Jennie's face, the way her wariness lifted for just a moment.
I catch myself and shake my head. Nope. Not going there. Max Davidson doesn't do complicated, and a single mom with careful eyes is definitely complicated.
Still, as I throw on fresh clothes and head out to meet the guys, I can't help wondering what kind of "change of scenery" brings someone to Cedar Falls in October with nothing but a baby and a duffel bag.
But that's not my business. I'm just the friendly local firefighter who picked up a stuffed cat. Nothing more.
Lou's Diner is packed with the morning crowd when I arrive—a mix of regulars, high school kids grabbing breakfast before class, and a few tourists passing through on their way to the mountains. The familiar smell of bacon, coffee, and Lou's secret-recipe pancake batter wraps around me like a well-worn blanket.
I spot Lewis and Ollis in our usual corner booth. Lewis raises his coffee mug in greeting while Ollis stares intently at the menu, though he's ordered the same thing for the past five years.
"Morning, sunshine," I say, sliding in next to Lewis. "How's it going, Ol?"
Ollis grunts without looking up from the menu. The dark circles under his eyes tell me everything I need to know about how he slept last night.
"Heard you had some excitement this morning," Lewis says, pouring me coffee from the carafe on the table. "Wilson's garage again?"
"The man's determined to burn his house down one small fire at a time," I confirm, doctoring my coffee with cream and sugar. "You think after three incidents he'd learn."
"Some people can't be saved from themselves," Ollis mutters, finally setting down the menu.
The comment hangs awkwardly between us, loaded with meaning none of us want to unpack at 8:30 in the morning. Lewis catches my eye and gives a subtle head shake—Ollis has been making these kinds of remarks more frequently lately.
"Where's Brock and Grant?" I ask, changing the subject.
"Grant's at the station doing inventory, and Brock had that meeting with the township about the new equipment budget," Lewis explains. "Speaking of which, I need you to cover my shift on Friday. Got tickets to that concert in Ridgefield."
"No problem," I agree. "Not like I have a thriving social life to rearrange."
"That's because you're allergic to dating the same woman twice," Lewis smirks.
I flip him off affectionately as Doreen, Lou's long-time waitress, approaches our table.
"Well, if it isn't my favorite public servants," she says, pen poised over her pad. "The usual for everyone?"
"You know it," I confirm. "But double the bacon. Ollis is looking peaky."
Ollis rolls his eyes but doesn't object. Doreen winks at me and heads off to put in our order.
"Did that call really come in when you were 'heading home'?" Lewis asks, making air quotes. "Or were you doing your usual walk of shame from Cristina's place?"
"First of all, I don't do shame," I reply, leaning back in the booth. "Second, Cristina and I are just friends."
"Friends who occasionally have sleepovers," Lewis counters.
"The best kind," I grin. "But no, I was actually at Brock's. We were going over some training scenarios."
The bell above the diner door chimes, and without meaning to, I glance over. Jennie enters, Amelia on her hip, her expression determined. She speaks briefly with Lou at the counter, who guides her toward the back office.
"Who's that?" Lewis asks, following my gaze.
"New in town," I say, aiming for casual. "Met her at the motel this morning after the Wilson call."
"Single?" Lewis asks, because of course he does.
"Mom with a baby," I reply. "And before you start, I'm not interested."
"You? Not interested in a pretty woman? Did you hit your head at the fire this morning?" Lewis teases.
"I have a strict no-complications policy, remember? Single mom is practically the definition of complicated."
Ollis, who's been quiet through this exchange, suddenly says, "Not everyone sees family as a complication, Max."
The criticism stings coming from him. Ollis and I joined the department around the same time, and before the apartment fire incident, he was as carefree as me. Now he's all about "growing up" and "real connections" and other terrifying concepts.
"Different strokes," I say lightly, unwilling to get into it. "Besides, she's probably just passing through."
"Looked like she was applying for a job," Lewis observes.
"Maybe she is," I shrug. "Doesn't change anything."
Our food arrives, momentarily halting the conversation. I dive into my stack of pancakes, determined to redirect the topic away from my love life—or lack thereof.
"Anybody want to catch the Rangers game tonight?" I ask between bites.
"Can't. Working on my bike," Lewis says.
"I'm on shift," Ollis adds.
"Such dedication," I say. "That's why they call us heroes."
As we eat, I try not to notice when Jennie emerges from the back office with Lou, both of them smiling. Lou hands her what looks like employment paperwork, and she bounces Amelia slightly, clearly pleased. Good for her. Lou's a fair boss, and the tips at the diner are decent.
She doesn't look our way as she leaves, already focused on her next task. I wonder where the baby goes while mom's at work. Cedar Falls has exactly one daycare center, and it usually has a waiting list.
"Earth to Max," Lewis waves his hand in front of my face. "I asked if you're coming to the Halloween party at the station next week."
"Of course," I reply, refocusing. "I'm bringing the famous Davidson chili, remember? The recipe that made Chief cry last year."
"That wasn't from spice," Ollis deadpans. "It was from disappointment in humanity."
I clutch my chest in mock hurt. "You wound me, Ollis. My chili is legendary."
"Legendarily hazardous," Lewis laughs.
The conversation shifts to Halloween plans and station gossip, and I let myself be pulled along with it, pushing thoughts of Jennie and her situation aside. Not my business. Not my problem. Just another face in Cedar Falls.
When we finish breakfast, Lewis heads to the to fire station, and Ollis goes home to get some sleep before his shift. I drop cash on the table for my meal and head outside, the morning sun now fully warming the streets.
I'm halfway down the block when I spot Jennie again, this time coming out of the public library with a flyer in her hand. She's looking at her phone, navigating while balancing Amelia, who's now wearing a tiny hat that makes her look even more adorable.
Before I can decide whether to acknowledge her or keep walking, Amelia spots me and lets out an excited squeal, waving her arms. Jennie looks up, startled, then relaxes slightly when she recognizes me.
"We meet again," I say, stopping a respectful distance away. "Town tour?"
"Something like that," she replies. "I'm trying to find the Little Sprouts Daycare Center."
"It's on Maple Street," I tell her. "But fair warning, they usually have a waiting list."
Her face falls slightly, though she tries to hide it. "Oh. I was hoping... I just got a job at the diner, and I start tomorrow."
"Congratulations," I say. "Lou's a great boss."
"Thanks." She shifts Amelia to her other hip. "I guess I'll see if they have any openings anyway."
I hesitate, then offer, "Mrs. Gunderson sometimes watches kids in her home. She's the retired teacher who lives on Cedar Lane. Not an official daycare, but she's helped out plenty of parents in a bind."
Hope flickers across Jennie's face. "Really? That would be... thank you."
"Actually," I say, checking my watch, "I'm headed that direction anyway. I could show you, if you want." The words come out before I can think better of them.
She hesitates, and I quickly add, "No pressure. It's just—Cedar Falls can be confusing when you're new. Most streets are named after trees."
Jennie looks at me for a long moment, like she's trying to read my intentions. Finally, she nods. "That would be helpful, thank you."
"Great," I say, trying not to sound too pleased. "It's about a ten-minute walk. Is that okay with the little one?"
"She loves being out," Jennie says, her posture still cautious but less rigid than before. "And I could use a better sense of the town layout."
We set off together, and I am careful to maintain a friendly but respectful distance. I point out landmarks as we walk—the post office, the small park with a sandbox that Amelia might enjoy, the grocery store with surprisingly decent produce for a small town.
"So, most of the streets are really named after trees?" Jennie asks, smiling slightly as we turn from Oak onto Elm.
"Yeah," I confirm. "Legend has it the town founder was a botanist. The few streets that aren't named after trees were added after he died, and his widow didn't have the same enthusiasm."
Amelia babbles happily as we walk, occasionally pointing at things that catch her attention—a red car, a dog being walked, the fire hydrant that I feel obligated to explain is crucial town infrastructure.
"Have you always lived in Cedar Falls?" Jennie asks, the question casual but her tone suggesting genuine curiosity.
"Since I was fifteen," I answer, keeping it light.
"And did you always know you wanted to be a firefighter?"
I consider how much to share. "Let's just say I needed direction, and the fire chief saw potential in a kid who had nothing else going for him."
"Well, he was right," she says. "And do you love your job?"
"I do," I admit. "There's something about being there on people's worst days that makes you appreciate all the good ones."
We turn onto Cedar Lane, and I gesture ahead. "That's Mrs. Gunderson's—the blue house with all the garden gnomes."
"So many…" Jennie laughs, looking at the veritable army of ceramic figures populating the front yard.
"She names them all, too," I add. "The one by the mailbox is Ferdinand. The cluster by the bird bath are the Jackson Five."
Jennie's laughter is genuine and unguarded, and the sound has my heart racing like a teenager with no control.
"Should I just knock, or...?" she asks as we approach the house.
"She'll be thrilled to have visitors," I assure her. "Fair warning—she'll probably try to feed you. She was my high school English teacher, and she's been trying to fatten me up for the last decade."
I lead the way up the neat garden path, careful to step between gnomes, and knock on the bright blue door. Almost immediately, it swings open to reveal Mrs. Gunderson, her silver hair in its usual perfect bun, wearing an apron that says, "I like big books, and I cannot lie."
"Max Davidson!" she exclaims, delighted. "What a wonderful surprise! And who have you brought to visit me?"
"Mrs. G, this is Jennie and her daughter Amelia," I introduce them. "They just moved to town, and Jennie's looking for childcare options. I thought you might be able to help."
Mrs. Gunderson beams at them. "Well, aren't you a precious pair! Come in, come in. I just made pumpkin bread, and I need honest opinions."
As we step inside, I catch Jennie's eye. She mouths a silent "thank you" that makes me feel like I've done something more significant than showing her the way to a potential babysitter.
And for the first time since spotting her in the motel breakfast room, I allow myself to wonder if maybe—just maybe—getting to know Jennie and Amelia might be worth complicating my uncomplicated life.