Chapter 2
HARDY
“It’s not every day you see a boob on a call,” Mike says as he starts restocking supplies in the rig.
“You all good here?” I ask, making a circle with my hand, ignoring his comment. “I’ve already cleaned her out and sent the patient care report in. Hoping to make it home before bedtime so I can relieve the sitter.”
“Are we not going to talk about that little exchange back there?”
“What’s there to talk about?” I drag a hand along my jaw, hoping he’ll just let it go.
“You totally had a moment with the patient. Bella and her boob.”
“Jesus.”
“That’s totally becoming a thing. Bella and her boob. Has a great ring to it.”
“Can you not?” Turning my back to him, I head toward the door as he runs over, clapping a hand to my back, stopping me.
“Look, man, you’ve been here for a little over a year now and we’ve gotten really close, even if I am a little miffed that they gave you the promotion to lieutenant over me.”
I turn to look at him. “Fuck off.” He teases me about this once a week. Mike is as unserious as they come.
He holds his hand up in protest. “You make a good point. Totally well-deserved, boss.”
My brow lifts in response.
“Like I was saying. I’ve known you since you moved here and stole my promotion out from under me, and I’ve never seen you show any interest in a girl before.
Never heard you mention a date, or a hookup.
You don’t talk about women, let alone flirt with anyone, and I get it, I know you’re still getting over Lydie.
But maybe it’s time to get back out there. Do something for yourself for once.”
I think over his words. Maybe he’s right. “Lydie was one of a kind, and there’s not a day that goes by since she passed that I don’t miss her. And it’s been really hard on Avery not having her mom around. But I’m not about to hop into bed with the first person that shows me her boob.”
The thought of hooking up with Bella excites me, but I’m not going to parade women in and out of Avery’s life. My little girl gets attached to things easily, and I don’t want to break her heart again. Especially when I’m the reason her mom is gone.
“Just think about it. That’s all I’m saying.” He holds up his hands in defeat as he backs away, and I head to my truck to get home to my girl.
We moved to Chestnut Mountain about a year ago. I worked in a very active fire station in Denver, and I was practically living there with as much action as we saw. Moving here has been a nice break from the nonstop work calls and constant reminders of all the ways I let my family down.
Chestnut Mountain has been a much-needed change for us.
Since the population here is under a thousand, most of the fire brigade double as EMTs depending on the type of call that comes in.
When I started, I was desperate to prove myself and desperate for a distraction and was able to move up to lieutenant in just under a year.
But that came at a cost—I buried myself in as much work as I could, and before I realized it, Avery was closer to the nanny than she was to me.
It was eye-opening, and I decided to cut my hours and put her needs first. That first year after we lost Lydie was tough.
It was hard to see through the fog of grief, and learning how to become the sole parent to a little girl wasn’t easy.
There was a lot of therapy, for both of us, and even though I’ve made lots of progress towards acceptance, I still struggle with the guilt.
I made a lot of mistakes over the past two years, and seeing how my actions directly affected my girl shook me. Therapy has helped Avery deal with her feelings, and our family sessions have brought the two of us closer.
But I’m not about to jeopardize the progress we’ve made by letting a potential hookup distract me. Even if she was stunningly beautiful and stirred something in me I haven’t felt in years.
When I walk into the house it’s late, and I shut the door quietly in case Avery’s already asleep and drop my bag in the laundry room.
“I just put her down if you want to see her. She had a rough night,” Maggie whispers as she comes up behind me. “I should have known better than to start on her homework after trick-or-treating. It took a while to get through it, and you’re going to need to check it.”
“It’s kindergarten, what kind of shit are they giving her that could be difficult?
I can email her teacher.” That would be a good idea actually, since I’ve never met her and missed the fall parent-teacher conference because of an emergency call.
It would probably be worth filling her teacher in on Avery’s mom too.
“It’s not that it’s difficult,” Maggie says, walking over to the coffee table to grab some papers. “It’s that it was a family tree project.”
Shit. Yeah, I definitely need to talk to her teacher.
“Avery helped me fill in what she could, but she shut down when we got to her mom’s side of the tree.”
I rub at the knot forming in my chest and look over the half-empty family tree. Hell, I don’t want to fill it out either. This is going to take a glass of bourbon or two to get through, and I remind myself to follow up with my therapist about this.
“I was able to lift her spirits with leftover Halloween candy, but I might have overdone it because she asked for three books and still had the wiggles when I left her.”
“Thanks, Maggie.”
She nods as she heads toward the door. “See you tomorrow, Hardy.”
I quickly empty my bag and a small hamper of clothes into the washing machine and start a load of laundry, and then I head up to see my little girl.
When we moved here, I let Avery go wild picking out any decor she wanted.
I couldn’t bring her mom back or take away her grief, but I wanted to make sure she had her dream room.
We painted the walls light pink, with a bright pink accent wall and dozens of butterfly decals placed sporadically throughout the space.
“Hey, baby girl,” I say, sitting on the edge of her twin bed.
“Daddy!” She scoots out from under the covers, climbing into my lap as she wraps her little arms around my neck. I inhale deeply, savoring the scent of her strawberry shampoo. “Miss Maggie let me have Tootsie Rolls!”
I smile against her hair. “I heard.”
Avery’s therapist mentioned working on improving open communication with her and validating emotions, and one of the things that has helped us the most is focusing on the positive, even if my default tends to be pessimism.
It’s hard in my line of work, when I often see people at their worst moments, but I try to be a steady and calming spot in their day.
When I come home, though, it takes everything in me to keep up the happy when all I want to do is hide away from the world.
But kids don’t let you do that—they force you to be the better version of yourself, whether you want to or not.
“What’s something that made you laugh at school today?”
“When it was story time, we sat on the rug and someone farted!” She delivers the news like it’s the most amazing thing that’s ever happened to her, and I can’t help but laugh. “And no one would fess up. Everyone was laughing and pointing at someone else.”
“That sounds like a fun day.”
“Was your day fun?”
I think back to the beautifully awkward woman I met that I can’t get out of my head. “It was a good day. Are you looking forward to Christmas now that Halloween is over?”
She lets out a deep sigh. “Not really. I wish I could move to the North Pole and live with Santa.”
Shit, did I fuck things up that bad last year?
I have a million follow-up questions in my head, but it’s late and sticking to her bedtime routine is important, so I tuck her in and kiss her goodnight, unsure of how to respond to her.
As I head to my room, my mind races with thoughts.
I wish I’d been around more to help Lydie with this stuff.
I should’ve paid more attention to all these traditions.
How can I fix this for Avery?
Is there anyone who could teach me how to be better at this?
Even though therapy has helped me process my grief and be the best version of myself for Avery, I still feel like I’m not doing enough. Do all parents feel this way?
I lie in the darkness and let my anxiety torture me until sleep takes over.