10. Nate
ten
Nate
“Hey, buddy.” Miles pats my shoulder as I walk into the fire hall’s kitchen. “It’s good to have you back. How are you?”
I draw a deep breath and nod. “I’m okay.”
I know the words are true, but they feel like a lie.
His eyes narrow as they scan my face. “You look better than you did at the funeral, but you still look like you haven’t slept.”
I chuckle and tilt my head. “Quinn is adjusting to the move to my house. She’s not sleeping very well, so neither have I.”
He frowns, then lifts a brow. “Who’s Quinn? Do you have a girlfriend you didn’t tell me about?”
I roll my eyes and shove his shoulder as I cross the space to the coffeemaker. “She’s my niece, you idiot.”
He closes his eyes and shakes his head. “Oh, right. I knew that.”
I pour a cup of coffee and add two spoons of sugar. “She’s mine now. My sister and brother-in-law made me her guardian.”
His eyes widen, and he blinks, looking more like an owl than a human. “You’re a dad?”
I clear my throat and stir my coffee, dropping my gaze to the swirling liquid in my cup. The title doesn’t sit right—like it weighs more than I can carry. “Something like that.”
As I sip my coffee, savoring the warmth and impending caffeine, his brows drop into another frown. “Wait, what about your shifts? Who’s with her now?”
I roll my shoulders, trying to alleviate the weight that has settled there. “I hired someone to babysit while I’m working. You remember me telling you about Lucy?”
He smirks and nods. “That gorgeous blonde that you have a confusing relationship with?”
I clench my jaw and shoot him a glare so hot I can feel the heat building in my chest. “Watch it. She’s my friend.”
His eyes narrow. “That’s not what you said the last time we talked about her. Did something change?”
I take another sip of coffee, ignoring the memory of her hands on my chest while I spiraled after seeing Violet’s body in a casket. “Drop it, Miles. She’s a friend, she loves Quinn, and she’s highly qualified in childcare. She’ll take good care of her while I’m gone.”
Miles tilts his head. “What happens if you get called in on an off day? Who watches Quinn then?”
I freeze, then swallow my coffee, set the cup on the counter, and cross my arms. “I… I could probably take her to my parents’ house.”
His eyes narrow. “What if it’s overnight? Are you going to wake a baby up in the middle of the night and take her to your parents’ house on the way in?”
My stomach twists as I realize I’m not as prepared as I thought. “Maybe Mom could come over.”
“You’re going to wake your mom up in the middle of the night? What happens if she doesn’t hear the phone?”
I blow out a frustrated breath. “What exactly do you suggest? Asking Lucy to move in with me just in case I get called in on an off day?”
He raises a brow and purses his lips. “I mean, asking a beautiful woman to live with you wouldn’t be the worst thing.”
I run a hand down my face and groan, feeling irritation rise from my lack of forethought and his inappropriate comments about Lucy. “You know how I feel about that. We’ve talked about my faith before. I’m not going to live with a woman I’m not married to.”
He chuckles. “Maybe you ought to marry her, then.”
I shoot him another glare, and he takes a step back with humor dancing in his eyes. That’s a completely ridiculous and selfish idea. “I’m not going to marry Lucy so that I can have a built-in babysitter.”
He smirks. “You sure that would be the only reason you’d have to marry her?”
I clench my jaw. “What are you trying to say?”
He shrugs. “I’m just trying to figure out your weird relationship with her. You know, maybe your connection is so difficult to define because she means more than you’re willing to admit.”
Something in my chest lurches at the thought. I shake my head, grab my coffee, and turn to leave the kitchen. “You don’t know what you’re talking about, man.”
He raises his hands. “Hey, don’t get mad at me. I’m trying to help.”
I wave him off as I walk down the hall, searching for a less populated space so I can gather my thoughts and pray.
I clearly didn’t consider every possibility when it comes to the childcare Quinn needs.
Being called in on an off day is rare, but it happens from time to time.
I need to have a plan in place, just in case.
As I settle in a vacant corner of the living space, I have to admit that Miles was right—totally off base, but right. This would be so much easier if I were married.
As I pull into my driveway and shift the vehicle into park, I whisper a prayer of thankfulness that God protected me on my drive home.
I’m honestly too tired to drive. It’s my own fault.
I stayed up all night because I couldn’t risk waking in a cold sweat in the bunk room after the recurring nightmare that has haunted me since the wreck.
I turn my key in the front door lock and step into the foyer, pushing the door closed behind me as I hear Lucy’s off-key singing and Quinn’s high-pitched giggles coming from the kitchen.
A smile grows on my face as I hang up my keys and kick off my shoes.
I sneak through the foyer to the kitchen doorway without a sound, excited to see what has Quinn chuckling so hard.
I haven’t heard her laugh like that in weeks.
Leaning against the doorframe, I roll my lips into my mouth and bite them to hold back a laugh.
Lucy is dancing to music blaring from her phone on the counter with Quinn perched on her hip.
As I watch, Lucy sings loudly, and Quinn throws her head back, laughing so hard that she can’t catch her breath.
Lucy laughs, sets Quinn on the floor, and performs an oddly familiar boy band-style choreography she must have practiced repeatedly.
Quinn giggles and claps. As the song fades out, Lucy bows to her tiny audience.
This is my moment.
I slide my thumb and forefinger into my mouth and blow a loud whistle, following it up with applause. Lucy jumps and spins toward me with wide eyes and her hand on her chest as I yell, “Bravo! Encore!”
Her glare and red cheeks satisfy some primal need inside me to irritate her. She takes a long step to close the distance between us as a new song plays on her phone. She shoves my shoulder. “You jerk. You scared the living daylights out of me. I didn’t hear you come in.”
I chuckle and shake my head. “That’s not my fault.”
With a smirk, I step around her to scoop Quinn off the floor. I didn’t realize how much I needed Quinn’s smile and her pudgy hands reaching for me. I plant a kiss on Quinn’s head and hug her tightly. “Good morning, Quinn Stefani. Did you have fun with Lucy while I was gone?”
She pats my chest, chanting, “Nae, Nae.”
Lucy crosses the kitchen to her phone and turns off the music. She spins to face me and leans against the cabinet with her arms crossed.
I chuckle and shake my head. “Oh, don’t be mad, Lucille. You put on a good show.”
She snatches a dish towel from the countertop beside her and slings it at me—what’s with the Burke women and using dish towels as weapons?
As I catch the towel with one hand, still holding Quinn with the other, a pink blur falls from the counter, and several things scatter across the floor.
Lucy’s eyes widen, and she kneels, scrambling to pick things up.
I squat, shifting Quinn so I can help her gather everything.
She holds out her hands, halting me. “Don’t set Quinn on the floor. She doesn’t need to pick any of this up and put it in her mouth.”
I frown, tightening my hold on Quinn as I finally identify the objects on the floor.
Alcohol swabs, foil packs containing glucose testing strips, plastic-capped lancets, a couple of capped syringe pens, a container of glucose tablets that have scattered across the floor—some still rolling aimlessly—and a pink case containing a glucometer.
I stop myself from blurting the question on my mind, noting the deepening redness in Lucy’s cheeks and the way she’s avoiding my gaze.
I stand and cross the kitchen, buckling Quinn into her high chair and handing her a toy. I kneel and wordlessly help Lucy pick up the collection of diabetes supplies. As I gather the items, I rack my brain, trying to remember hearing that she had been sick, and coming up with nothing.
Once we have all her supplies gathered and piled onto the counter, I set my hands on the surface and frown. “Is it broken?”
She clears her throat, still not looking at me. “What?”
“Your glucometer. Is it broken?”
She keeps her gaze trained on the supplies on the counter, but the way her cheeks darken tells me everything I need to know. “I don’t think so. It was strapped into the case.”
I nod and purse my lips. “I didn’t know, Luce.”
She rolls her eyes and closes them. “I’m not exactly broadcasting it. So, if you could keep it to yourself, I’d appreciate it.”
I frown and lean closer as Quinn bangs her high chair tray with the toy I handed her. Lucy opens her eyes and watches Quinn with a soft, amused expression. I swallow my nerves. “Why are you keeping this a secret? Diabetes is nothing to be ashamed of.”
She draws a deep breath, holds it for a beat, and slowly releases it. “I don’t want a lot of attention. I hate when people give me that pitying look like all they can see is a diagnosis—like all I am is what’s wrong with me.”
She rolls her shoulders, and I drop my gaze to my hands on the countertop. “Yeah, I know what you mean.”
I spent the drive home praying that when I have to go back to work in a couple of days, my coworkers will treat me like they used to—no more sympathetic glances because I lost my sister and brother-in-law.
A small, warm hand covers mine on the countertop, and I frown.
Lucy pats my hand twice, then begins sorting her things back into their respective spaces in her case.
I swallow around the lump building in my throat at her kind, though unexpected, gesture.
Attempting to distract myself from the way my stomach flipped at the contact, I group all the alcohol swabs and set them beside her case so she can add them when she’s ready.
She flashes me a small smile, then continues her work.
I pick up two syringe pens and roll them around until I see ‘insulin’ on one and ‘glucagon’ on the other.
I clear my throat as I hold them out for her. “Type 1?”
She nods and takes the pens, tucking them into elastic loops in the case.
“When were you diagnosed?”
Her jaw clenches, then releases. “About a month and a half ago.”
My eyes roam her face, searching for signs that could indicate her hidden illness, and finding nothing. She looks the same as always. Just like Lucy. “How is your blood sugar management going?”
Her deep blue eyes finally meet mine, full of fire and determination. “I’m fine, Nate. My blood sugar is mostly under control.”
I frown. “Mostly?”
She blinks slowly and drops her gaze to the case as she zips it shut. “I have occasional upswings and downswings. I’m still figuring it out.”
I tilt my head. “A continuous glucose monitor might help with that. You can set it up to send an alert to your phone if your blood sugar is outside a certain range.”
She purses her lips and nods. “Yes, well, my insurance company doesn’t seem to care that a CGM would be more efficient. They won’t touch an insulin pump either.”
I blink, feeling my pulse thud with indignation for her. “What? Why?”
She shrugs. “Because the preschool only provides a major medical policy.”
Something clicks in my mind, and I close my eyes as I nod. “That’s what you meant when you said you needed more than the preschool could give you.”
She blows out a breathy chuckle. “Yeah. So, I’m looking for another job.
I can’t keep paying for these supplies out of pocket on this income, especially after Sloane and Aiden’s wedding, when I’ll be responsible for the entire rent amount on our apartment.
” She runs her hand through her hair. “But I guess I don’t have to worry about that particular problem until she and Aiden move out, which might be a few months.
In the meantime, I’ll probably have to move back in with Mom and Dad because I can’t afford a temporary place. ”
My eyes widen as I process everything she’s going through. I had no idea she was dealing with so much.
Her gaze drops, and she tucks her diabetes case under her arm. “Sorry. I’m rambling. I’ll get out of your hair before I say something else embarrassing.”
I stand frozen and unable to find my voice as she crosses the kitchen and kisses Quinn’s head. “I’ll be back Thursday morning, sweet girl. Be good for Nate while I’m gone.”
She avoids my gaze as she walks past me to the foyer. She calls awkwardly, “See you later.”
The door swings shut behind her, and I release a long breath. I hate the thought that Lucy has to handle so much on her own. That’s a lot for one person to juggle. I hate even more that I didn’t know. I don’t know how I could help, but I could have been praying for her at least.
Quinn calls my name and reaches for me. I smile as I unbuckle her and slide her out of her high chair. She grabs a handful of my shirt and points toward the door. “Lu, Lu?”
I chuckle as I realize she’s asking about Lucy, though it sounds more like she’s saying, ‘you.’ She’s clearly attached to Lucy, and it didn’t take long at all. I kiss her pudgy cheek. “Lucy had to go, baby. She’ll come back another day, okay?”
Her lower lip pokes out, and her chin quivers as she calls for Lucy again. I pull her close to my chest and pat her back. “It’s okay, Quinnie the Pooh. I’m here.”
I carry her into the living room and pull out her bucket of toys, trying to find something that will distract her from Lucy’s absence.
Miles’s careless words about Lucy living here to give Quinn stability come to mind.
I know Quinn will be okay, and she’ll adjust to Lucy coming and going, but I can’t deny that Lucy being here for her constantly would be beneficial for Quinn right now, especially since I have to be gone so much.
Quinn needs consistency, steadiness, familiarity…
Quinn needs a real family, not just a single firefighter uncle.