Chapter 2 #3
“I keep meaning to get to those.” Dad looks up from behind the cash register. “Those are the fall decorations for the exterior of the shop. Can you handle putting them up, if you’re not doing anything?”
“Sure,” I say quickly, grateful for a task that doesn’t involve small talk about my mysterious return or someone or the other offering up their single male relative on a platter for me to date.
As I carry the box outside, I notice the fire station directly across the street.
Several men in uniform mill around the bay doors, and I catch them watching me with curious eyes.
They all wear navy blue shirts with the fire station logo embossed on them and bulky beige-looking pants that seem to have an unlimited number of pockets.
They’re all undeniably good-looking in that rugged, small-town way, but they barely register on my radar. I have bigger problems than attractive firefighters.
I pull out strings of mini pumpkin lights and orange garland, the autumn decorations bringing back memories of helping Mom transform the shop every October. The ladder is right where it’s always been, leaning against the side of the building.
Setting it up against the front wall, I climb up with the lights, stretching to hook them along the window frame.
The familiarity of the task is soothing, grounding me in something simple and productive.
The morning sun warms my back as I work, and for the first time since arriving, I feel genuinely useful.
I’m reaching for a particularly stubborn hook when footsteps approach on the sidewalk. Heavy boots on concrete, purposeful and steady. I don’t look down—I’m almost finished with this section, and I don’t want to lose my momentum.
“Hazel!”
My mother’s voice cuts through my concentration, and instinctively, I turn. My body shifts on the ladder, my weight moving too far to one side.
My foot slips on the ladder rung.
I cry out in alarm, my hands windmilling as I lose my balance completely. The string of lights flies from my grasp as I fall backward through the air. I squeeze my eyes shut, bracing for the inevitable impact with the hard sidewalk.
Instead, strong arms catch me against a solid chest, the collision knocking the air from my lungs but breaking my fall completely. My heart pounds against my ribs as I realize how close I came to seriously hurting myself.
My eyes fly open to find Luke’s face inches from mine, his blue eyes dark with a mixture of concern and annoyance.
For a heartbeat, we just stare at each other, his arms still wrapped around me, my hands gripping his shoulders. The moment stretches between us, charged with too much history and too many unresolved feelings.
“Put me down.”
When he doesn’t do so, I struggle in his arms. “Let me go, Luke!”
He glares down at me. “What do you think you’re doing? Are you trying to get a concussion?”
“I was only two rungs up.” I scoff, hitting his chest to force him to let me down, but it seems to have no impact on him. His muscles are hard as rock, and it makes something flutter in my belly at how ridiculously strong he is.
“Two rungs is enough,” he says flatly.
My lips press into a thin line. “Luke Harrison, you put me down right now or I’m going to start screaming.”
He narrows his eyes, a taunting edge to his smirk. “Do it.”
“Excuse me?”
“Go ahead. Scream,” he invites.
I open my mouth and then shut it. He’s called my bluff. “Let me go, you big brute.”
“Say please.”
I punch him in the chest instead, and he scoffs. “You hit like a girl, Hazel.”
“I am a girl, and I won’t say please. Put me down.”
“Make me.”
My eyes narrow. “You think I can’t?”
He just raises a brow. Dropping my hand from his shoulder, I grab his nipple through his thin shirt. His eyes widen as I twist.
“Jesus—Fuck, Hazel!” He drops me, and I land on my feet.
“How’s that?” I say, coolly.
Luke rubs his chest, glowering at me. “Why would you do that?”
“You should have let me go when I asked nicely.” I put my hands on my hips.
“For someone so tiny you’re still such a bully,” he mutters. “And what were you doing anyways?”
“Hanging decorations.” I give him an incredulous look. “Isn’t that obvious?”
“Well, considering you’re falling all over the place, let somebody else handle it.”
Why is he being such a pain in the ass?
“Go away, Luke,” I turn around, already having a tough time keeping my composure around him. “
Without another word, he snatches the string of lights from where they’ve fallen and climbs the ladder with sharp, efficient movements. He hooks them exactly where I’d been trying to reach, his jaw tight with what looks like frustration.
I feel a surge of irritation. “I was doing that!”
“Well, now I’m doing it.” He finishes hanging it and comes down to stand before me. There is barely an inch of space between us, and I grit my teeth. “There,” he says tersely. “Now you won’t end up in the hospital.”
That’s when I notice his uniform—navy blue with patches and badges, professional and official. Despite everything, I’m genuinely surprised. “You’re a firefighter?”
He raises an eyebrow. “Fire Chief, actually.”
“Oh!” Mom’s voice rings out as she hurries through the coffee shop door, looking flustered and apologetic.
“Hazel, honey, I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to startle you like that when I called out.
” She turns to Luke with genuine gratitude.
“Thank you for catching her, Luke. I would never have forgiven myself if she’d gotten hurt. ”
“It’s fine, Mrs. Brennen,” Luke says, his voice noticeably warmer when addressing my mother.
Mom looks between us curiously. “What were you two talking about?”
“I was just telling Hazel that I’m Fire Chief now,” Luke says. “But she seemed a little surprised.”
Mom beams with obvious pride. “Luke became a firefighter six years ago. The entire town adores him—he was promoted to Fire Chief just last year.” She claps her hands together as if struck by sudden inspiration. “You know what? You two should catch up properly.”
“Mom—” I start to protest.
But she’s already bustling around, dragging two chairs from inside and arranging them at one of the small outdoor tables. “I’ll get you both something to drink and eat. It’s perfect timing—the morning rush is over.”
“Mom, really, we don’t need to—”
“Eight years have passed, Hazel,” Mom says firmly, her tone taking on that no-nonsense quality I remember from childhood. “Luke is part of this family, and whatever problems you two had, you should move past them and at least be friendly toward each other.”
I sigh heavily, crossing my arms over my chest as Mom disappears back inside the coffee shop. I can feel Luke’s eyes on me, studying my face.
“What?” I ask tersely.
He shrugs. “Nothing.”
“You can leave if you want,” I say stiffly.
His jaw sets. “Your mother told me to sit here,” he says, settling into one of the chairs with deliberate calm. “So I’m going to sit here. Even if I don’t particularly want to.”
His words slam into me with brutal force. “I know you’d prefer to be sitting across from somebody else right now,” I say bitingly.
Luke frowns, his expression tightening. “I don’t know what you’re talking about half the time.” He leans back in his chair, studying me with those too-blue eyes. “So tell me, how’s that big city life treating you? Is it as amazing as you told me it would be?”
For a moment, I don’t know what he’s referring to.
Then the memory hits me like a punch to the gut.
The day I was leaving and he had come looking for me at house.
My wounds had still been raw and I had been harsh with him, wanting him to hurt like I was hurting.
I look at him now, my heart hardening like a shield.
“It is amazing,” I say coolly. “I haven’t missed this place one bit. Or the people in it.”
His smile is cold and sharp. “Good. Because nobody has missed you either.” He pauses, letting that sink in before adding, “I don’t even know why you’re here.”
His words cut more than they should, but I compose myself, lifting my chin. “My parents are here. My family is here.”
“Right,” he says, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “You had no problem abandoning them the first time around, so I’m sure you won’t have any problem leaving them behind again.”
I get to my feet abruptly, my chair scraping against the concrete. “I’m here for a month,” I say, my voice tight with barely controlled emotion. “I’m not asking you to like it, and I’m not here to see you. I’m here for my family, and I would appreciate it if you just stayed out of my way.”
He stands as well, matching my defensive posture. “That won’t be hard. Trust me.”
Without another word, I storm inside the coffee shop, the bell above the door clanging violently behind me. Through the front window, I watch as Luke crosses the street back to the fire station, his stride confident and purposeful.
I wish he wasn’t as attractive as he was. His broad shoulders, his dark hair catching the sunlight, the way he carries himself with quiet authority—it would be so much easier if time had been less kind to him.
But then again, I wish he hadn’t broken my heart either.