21. Nia
21
NIA
I am about to get arrested. It’s the only logical conclusion I can come to as I sit here, watching Richard munch on a roll, his little face scrunched up in a scowl.
Panic is clawing at my insides, but I’m trying to keep it together, trying to maintain some semblance of calm for his sake.
There’s no way out of this.
Any second now, someone is going to accuse me of kidnapping, child endangerment, or worse—all because I didn’t know he was allergic to strawberries. The thought of it makes my heart race even faster, my mind conjuring up images of handcuffs and jail cells. I can see the headlines now: “Local Paramedic Arrested for Endangering Child’s Life.” It’s not rational, but in the moment, it feels all too real.
“Are you okay?” I ask Richard for the tenth time in less than a minute. Yes, I still refer to him as Richard because he said that he doesn’t like the name Rich. Especially when he found out that’s what Lyla’s dad’s name was.
“Yes.” He glares at me over Lyla’s head. “I said I was fine the first nine times you asked. Trish said it was fine, too, and she’s going to her car to get my EpiPen just in case.”
“You’re pretty smart, did you know that?” Lyla stuffs a roll in her mouth. “I didn’t know that some jellies had strawberries in them.” She eyes the jelly suspiciously and then pushes it to the end of the table so that it isn’t anywhere near either one of them.
“I just don’t want to die.” Richard takes the last roll and starts tearing into it. “When there’s stuff like that, my mom always said it was really important to pay attention.”
“She was right,” I tell them both. “I’m glad you know that you’re allergic to them. As long as you promise that you’re okay.”
“Yes.” He rolls his eyes, and Lyla laughs.
Both Ella and Trish come back at the same time, and neither of them look the slightest bit worried.
“This has been the best day,” Lyla tells her mom when she sits back down. “I can’t believe that we already went shopping.”
“That was not fun.” Richard rolls his eyes again, staring pointedly at Trish. “Are we doing anything else?”
I know he is waiting for Trish to answer, but I’m just so excited that I open my mouth first. “I thought we might get our hands and feet done.”
“What does that mean?” He stares between us, looking confused more than anything. “What does it mean to do our hands? Are they going to get cut off or anything like that?”
“No.” Lyla laughs and holds out her perfectly pink nails. “It means they massage our hands and feet and paint them for us.”
Richard tries his best not to look interested, the way every little boy does when confronted with something that’s typically deemed “girly.” There’s a subtle shift in his expression, a flicker of curiosity that he tries to hide behind a mask of indifference.
But I see the way his eyes linger on Lyla’s hand, taking in the bright color and the careful precision with which it’s been applied. “Do they have clear nail polish?” he asks, his voice betraying the interest he’s trying so hard to conceal. It’s a simple question, but it carries so much weight—his way of testing the waters, of seeing if this is something he can do without feeling out of place. There’s a vulnerability there that tugs at my heart, and I make a mental note to reassure him that it’s okay, that it’s more than okay.
But I should have known my niece would crush right through any insecurities.
“My dad doesn’t even get nail polish,” Lyla confides in him with a flick of her blond ponytail. “He just likes going since they clean his nails and give him the massage on his hands and his legs. He says it’s important to take self-care timeouts.”
Ella snorts, unable to keep a straight face. “It’s important for all of us to take time for self-care,” she says, her tone playful but carrying a hint of truth. “Taking care of our bodies, understanding when it’s time to pamper ourselves. That’s something everyone should do, not just adults.” She glances at Richard, a knowing smile on her lips. “And that includes you, too, mister. There’s nothing wrong with taking some time to relax and enjoy yourself. In fact, it’s something you should get used to. Life’s hard enough without making it even tougher on yourself.” Her words are light, but there’s a wisdom behind them that only comes from experience, and I can see Richard absorbing every word, considering them carefully as if they hold the key to something he’s been missing, something he couldn’t possibly have been exposed to before now.
“So it’s normal for guys to do it, too?” He stares at each of us in turn, like he can’t quite decide if he wants to believe us or not. “No one is going to make fun of me for doing it?”
“No.” Lyla shakes her head. “And you just tell me if anyone does. I’ll go scorched earth on them, and then I’ll tell Rett. He’ll do it too, and we’ll both tell our dads.” She shrugs, and I see a flash of the confidence she’ll carry her entire life.
“Who’s Rett?” Richard asks, his curiosity piqued by the mention of this mysterious ally. “And what’s scorched earth?” His eyes are wide, and I can see that he’s genuinely intrigued, not just by the idea of someone backing him up, but by the concept of scorched earth itself.
It’s clear that he’s trying to piece together what it means, to understand the implications of such a fierce-sounding term. There’s a kind of seriousness in his voice, as if he’s already thinking about how this new knowledge might come in handy in his own life. It’s fascinating to watch, to see the wheels turning in his head as he processes what Lyla is saying. And I can’t help but feel a twinge of admiration for how quickly he’s picking up on the subtleties of this new information.”
Lyla has Richard’s undivided attention to the point that it is hard for me, and I’m sure for Trish and Ella too, to see the difference in their ages as anything more than a number.
“I’m so sorry,” Ella whispers to Trish. “She really does have the attitude of a lawyer, and most days I’m fine with it. Other days, she reminds me why we only have one child.”
Trish waves her off while the two little kids start to dig into the lunch that our waiter pops up with.
“Bill and I never had a chance to have children of our own. That’s why we became foster parents. It’s a miracle that we only had the two—well, now one.” Her eyes fill momentarily with tears as we all remember Piper. “Usually, we have closer to five kiddos with us who need love.”
“Scorched earth is where you care about something so much and it’s so important to you that you’ll do anything to keep it safe. Or you get so upset because something makes you mad or it isn’t right or it isn’t fair. And then you do whatever you have to do to destroy everything or anything that stands in your way.” Lyla waves a ketchup-covered French fry in the air while she explains. “Only, you don’t go scorched earth over anything that’s not super important because my dad says that going scorched earth can hurt your friends or the people around you. So you have to be super careful if you ever think it’s something you’re going scorched earth over.”
Again, Richard is hyper-focused on what Lyla is saying, to the point that he almost pokes himself in the eye with his quesadilla.
“Got it. Only go scorched earth if I am prepared to deal with the consequences. Is it something like having a superpower?”
“Yes,” Lyla says solemnly. “It really is. It’s the most important superpower, because anyone can do it. And if anyone can do it, then there wouldn’t be anyone to suspect it’s you if you have to get rid of a body.”
“Lyla,” Ella hisses. “You can’t go around telling people that.” She blushes fiercely and turns to Trish. “I am so sorry.”
“Pshaw.” Trish waves her off. “It just means you’re raising a smart girl who won’t take shit from anyone.”
“Really,” I agree with her. “It’s something to be proud of.”
Ella snorts. “You say that because you’re the one who taught her that.”
“No.” I shake my head. “Rich is the one who told her that he’d help her get out of a murder charge. He’s the defense attorney, not me.”
“You’re right. You’d only help keep her victims alive long enough for her not to get a murder charge.”
“That’s ’cause Auntie Nia loves me,” Lyla interrupts with a cheeky grin. “And you. If you go scorched earth, my dad’ll help you too. You’re honorary family.” She nudges Richard in the shoulder. “Oh, you’ll like Rett, too. He’s my best friend and has been forever. He makes sure no one is mean to me or pulls my hair. And sometimes he shares his food with me if mine is gross. His dad owns motorcycles. But his mom died, like yours did. And she had a baby in her belly when she died. So it’s like Piper, too, I think.” She stops talking at the sharp intakes of breath that fill the table from every adult present.
But like only children can, Lyla and Richard move on from the heavy moment as if it never happened, their conversation flowing seamlessly into something lighter, something more in line with the carefree nature of their age.
It’s a skill that kids have, this ability to acknowledge pain without letting it consume them, to touch on the dark parts of life without being dragged down by them. It’s a resilience that I admire, and one that I sometimes wish I could emulate.
Watching them, I can see the way they process their emotions, the way they navigate the complexities of life with a kind of grace that’s both heartwarming and a little bit awe-inspiring. They’re stronger than we give them credit for, these kids, and it’s moments like this that remind me of just how much we can learn from them.
“He owns motorcycles ?” Richard asks, his voice filled with awe. “That’s so cool. It sucks about his mom and little sister or brother. I know how that feels. Sometimes, I feel like Piper is right there next to me,” he tells her like they are sharing a secret. “But then I remember that she’s gone. Did you know that Trish took me to the cemetery? There was this little kid there, sitting on a grave. He said he goes all the time ’cause his dad died a long time ago.”
“Oh,” Lyla gasps and claps her hands together. “I know who that is. That’s Nox. His dad did die a long time ago. He ran away one time and they had to use the smelly dog to find him. My dad told me all about it.”
“I don’t have to run away to go there. Trish said she’d take me to see my mom and my sister anytime I asked her to.”
“Is anyone else about to cry?” I ask the other two adults. “I really, really wish we were drinking right now because I just can’t deal with the level of emotions these two are just flying through like it’s nothing.”
“You have no idea.” Trish lowers her voice and pulls a tissue out of her purse. “I spend half the night crying over all the memories that were lost in the fire, and then Bill and Richard will start talking about something, and I remember that we could have lost so much more in the fire than we did.”
I turn my attention back to Richard and Lyla, who are living in their own world. A world filled with motorcycles and death that don’t debilitate them to mention it, and friendships that are formed over lunch.
“Did you know that Nia’s boyfriend Josh brought me and my classmates a bunch of snacks and spent the whole lunch with us and he answered all the questions everyone had about being a firefighter?” Lyla asks the table as a whole. “I didn’t like him at first. But you know how important it is to bring snacks. And he understood the assignment. So I like him now.”
Dumbfounded, I stare at Ella with one eyebrow raised, like I’m a fish out of water who has a question that isn’t answered. But Ella stares at me like she clearly has no clue what is going on, either.
“I can’t wait to change my nail polish,” Lyla says after she burps, changing the subject again. “What color should I get?”
“I don’t know.” Richard shrugs. “Another pink?”
He shoved a fry in his mouth and then finishes his quesadilla in the next bite.
And after we finish getting our manicures and pedicures, Richard makes me promise that we’ll go again once a month.
A promise I gladly make, especially when Ella and Trish both say that they think it is a great idea.
“Hey,” I call out playfully as I step into the house, the familiar feeling of home washing over me. The sight of Josh sitting on the couch with a pile of folders next to him and his laptop perched on the coffee table brings a smile to my face.
He looks so focused, so intent on whatever he’s working on, that for a moment, I hesitate to interrupt him. But then the excitement of the day bubbles up inside me, and I can’t help but want to share it with him.
“Can you pause that for a second?” I ask, my voice light and teasing as I walk over to where he’s sitting. There’s a warmth in the air, a sense of comfort that comes from being in the presence of someone you love, and I feel a rush of affection for this man who’s become such an integral part of my life.
He blinks, rubs his eyes, and then closes the lid so he can give me his undivided attention.
“What’s up?”
Before I say another word, I close the distance between us and lean down, capturing his lips in a kiss that’s filled with everything I’ve been feeling all day.
“You went to the elementary school and spent lunch with my niece just to win her over?” I ask, pulling back slightly so I can look into his eyes. There’s a smile on my lips, but the question is genuine. I need to know why he went out of his way to do something so thoughtful, so completely unexpected. “Why?” I continue, my voice softening as I search his face for answers.
There’s a warmth in my chest, a swelling of feeling so deep I can’t explain for this man who’s gone out of his way to make a connection with someone I care about so deeply. It’s a small thing, maybe, but it means the world to me. And as I wait for his response, I can’t help but feel a rush of gratitude for the way he’s woven himself into the fabric of my life, for the way he’s made it clear that he’s here to stay. I don’t think I could get rid of him any easier than I could cut my arm off my body at this point.
“Because it was important to you,” he says like it is the most common thing in the entire world. “Whatever’s important to you is important to me.”
“I’m in love with you,” I blurt out, the words spilling from my lips before I can stop them. It’s like a dam has broken inside me, the emotions I’ve been holding back rushing out all at once.
I had to tell him.
I couldn’t wait another second without him knowing the depth of my feelings.
“What?”
His eyes are almost comically wide.
“I said I love you,” I repeat, my voice soft but steady. There’s a sense of peace that comes from finally speaking my truth. I smile as I sit down on the couch next to him, my heart still racing but in the best possible way. “Don’t make a big deal out of it,” I add with a gentle nudge, trying to lighten the mood just a little. But even as I say it, I know that this is a big deal for both of us.
It’s a turning point, a moment that will forever change the course of our relationship.
And as I look into his eyes, I can see the impact my words have had on him, the way they’ve sunk in deep, touching a part of him that’s been waiting for this for a long time.
“Nia,” he breathes, his voice lower than I’ve ever heard it before, thick with emotion. There’s a raw intensity in the way he says my name, like he’s holding on to it for dear life. “If I didn’t have work that I absolutely had to get done tonight, I’d be throwing you over my shoulder so that I could tie you down and make you say it to me over and over again with my cock buried so deep in your pussy that you won’t ever get the feeling of me out of your mind,” he continues, his words sending a shiver down my spine. The passion in his voice, the unspoken promise of what he wants to do, makes my heart race even faster. “I love you, too,” he says, the confession coming out in a rush, as if he can’t hold it back any longer. “I’ve loved you since you crashed into my life, ghosted me, and then had the audacity to save me in a fire you shouldn’t have been in.” There’s a hint of a smile on his lips as he says it, but the emotion in his eyes is undeniable. It’s as if he’s been carrying these feelings for so long, waiting for the right moment to let them out, and now that he has, there’s no going back. The love in his voice, the way he looks at me like I’m the only person in the world that matters, fills me with all the love I’ve never felt before.
I curl into his side. “Okay, you can go back to work. I’ll just lie here and read a book on my phone.”
Except as soon as he opens the laptop and starts playing old security footage, my curiosity is beyond piqued.
“What’s up?”
“I’m investigating the first fires that were classified as arson. So I can catch the person responsible, and maybe see something that we missed before.”
His eyes are locked on the corner of the screen. “Can you grab the folder that says March and Chrysler Dealership on it?”
I hold it up, but he doesn’t take it from me. Instead, he pauses the video. “Look at the computer dispatch report and tell me when fire and EMS were dispatched.”
My eyes scan the familiar layout of the document. “It says we dispatched fire at 10:03, and EMS ten minutes later at 10:13.”
“Then why is the paramedic you replaced showing up here at nine forty-five?” He points at the grainy feed, where I can clearly see the brunette woman I’ve only met once when I interviewed for the position.
I shrug, not really knowing what he expects me to say. “Did they have another call there?” It isn’t unusual for EMS to go from one call to another if there isn’t a need for the patient to be transported or if the call is canceled.
“I’m going to find out.” Josh sighs deeply. “But this isn’t adding up.” He kisses me on the nose, then starts typing furiously on the computer. “You’re my good luck charm, Nia. First you tell me you love me, and now I’ve got the first potential break in this case.”