Chapter 2 - Sierra
I'm trembling so badly I'm surprised Ruby hasn't noticed, but she's too focused on the man standing frozen in the doorway: her father, who looks like I just punched him in the chest and knocked all the air from his lungs.
Which, to be fair, I basically did.
Eight years of silence, and I show up at his workplace with the daughter he didn't know existed. Mother of the Year material right here.
"Are you really my dad?" Ruby asks again when Cade doesn't answer, and I feel her shift slightly behind my hand, uncertainty creeping into her voice.
That seems to break whatever spell has Cade paralyzed. He blinks, his throat working as he swallows, and I watch his knuckles white where he's gripping the back of that chair like it's the only thing keeping him upright.
"I—" he starts, then stops. His eyes, those blue eyes that I've seen every single day for seven years in our daughter's face, move from Ruby to me, and there's so much in them I can't breathe. Shock. Confusion. And underneath it all, something that looks like devastation.
Behind him, five other men have crowded into the doorway. They're all massive, wearing firefighter gear, faces streaked with soot, and they're all staring at me like I'm a particularly complicated house fire they're trying to figure out how to contain.
"Holy shit," one of them mutters, a younger guy with sandy hair who can't be much older than I am. "Did she just say—"
"Rowan." The oldest one, silver at his temples, captain's insignia on his uniform, cuts him off with a single word, but his eyes are on me. Assessing. Not hostile, exactly, but definitely protective of the man I just ambushed.
I want to sink through the floor. This was a mistake. A huge, monumental, catastrophic mistake. I should have called. Should have written. Should have done literally anything except show up here with no warning and a seven-year-old bombshell.
"We should give you some privacy," the captain says, already backing up, gesturing for the others to follow.
But Cade speaks before they can leave, his voice rough and strained. "No. Stay." He's still staring at Ruby, and I watch his hands shake before he shoves them in his pockets. "Just give me a minute."
The silence that follows is excruciating.
Ruby's fingers find mine, tangling together, and I can feel her nervousness matching my own.
She's been so excited for the entire drive, talking nonstop about meeting her dad, asking a thousand questions I couldn't answer.
Does he like animals? What's his favorite color? Will he like me?
Now she's quiet, picking up on the tension in the room, and I hate myself for putting her in this position.
"Maybe we should—" I start, ready to grab Ruby and run, to get back in the car and drive home and pretend this never happened, but Cade finally moves.
He takes a step forward, then another, until he's close enough that I can see he's even broader than I remember.
Eight years of carrying people out of burning buildings will do that.
His dark hair is shorter than he used to wear it, and there's a scar on his chin I don't recognize, but his eyes, those are the same.
Haunted. Even now, even in his shock, there's that shadow I remember from after the fire. The one that made him flinch at sirens and wake up screaming. The one that made him leave.
The one that made me let him go.
"Ruby," he says, and my heart cracks at the way he says her name, like he's tasting it, testing it out. "That's a pretty name."
Ruby lights up despite her nervousness, standing a little straighter. "Mom named me after a flower. Well, technically a gemstone, but there's a flower too. The ruby daylily."
"I didn't know that," Cade says, and the corner of his mouth twitches. Almost a smile. "About the flower."
"Most people don't." Ruby is warming up now, slipping into her default mode of information-sharing. She does this when she's nervous, rattling off facts like they're a shield. "Daylilies are very hardy and they come in lots of colors. We have some in our garden. Mom lets me take care of them."
"Does she?" Cade's eyes flick to me, and I see the question there. The hundreds of questions. Eight years' worth.
I force myself to meet his gaze, even though every instinct is screaming at me to look away. "She's good with plants. Good with anything that needs taking care of, really."
"She gets that from you," he says, and the intimacy in those words, the acknowledgment of what we were, what we had, makes my happy that he still remembers.
"Jesus Christ," one of the men behind Cade breathes, and I tear my eyes away to see them all watching this unfold like it's a television drama.
The younger one—Rowan—has his hand pressed to his mouth. Another one, built like a tank with close-cropped dark hair, looks like he can't decide if he's shocked or impressed. A third keeps glancing between Cade and Ruby, probably cataloging all the ways they look alike.
They're gossiping. Silently, but definitely gossiping, their eyes communicating what their mouths aren't saying. And judging me. I can feel it, the weight of their assessment. This woman who showed up out of nowhere and turned their friend's life upside down.
I knew this would be hard, knew Cade would be shocked, but I didn't think about the audience. Didn't consider that I'd have to do this with five strangers watching my every move.
"I know this is—" I start, but my voice comes out shaky. I clear my throat, try again, addressing the captain because he seems like the one in charge. "I know this isn't ideal. The timing, the way I… I should have called ahead. Given him warning. I just—"
"You just what?" Cade's voice is sharp now, cutting through my rambling.
"Decided that eight years of silence wasn't enough?
That you'd show up and—" He stops himself, glancing at Ruby, clearly remembering she's there.
That we're not alone. That whatever anger or hurt he's feeling needs to be contained.
But I heard it. The edge. The betrayal.
And I deserve it.
"Ruby, sweetheart," I say, squeezing her hand gently. "Why don't you sit down? I need to talk to your dad for a minute. Grown-up stuff."
Ruby's face falls. "But I wanted to—"
"I know. And you will. I promise." I guide her to one of the chairs at the conference table, "Just give us a few minutes, okay?"
Ruby sits at the other end of the table, but she's not happy about it. She crosses her arms over her chest. Cade's stubborn expression on her seven-year-old face, and I have to suppress the urge to laugh hysterically at the absurdity of it all.
"Perhaps we could give you folks the room?" the captain says again, more firmly this time. He's reading the situation correctly, understanding that whatever is about to happen shouldn't have an audience.
"Dallas, I—" Cade starts, but Dallas shakes his head.
"We'll be close. You need anything, you yell." It's not a suggestion. He herds the other men out, though I catch them all stealing glances back at Ruby as they go. The door clicks shut behind them, but I can hear their muffled voices immediately starting up in the hallway.
Definitely gossiping.
"Sit," Cade says, his voice flat. Not angry anymore, just... empty. Distant. He's pulling on that armor I remember from after the fire, the walls going up so high I can't see over them.
I sit, but across from Ruby, keeping her in my sight. Cade remains standing, his arms crossed over his broad chest, and the way he's looking at me makes me feel like I'm on trial.
Maybe I am.
"Eight years," he says again, like he's still trying to wrap his mind around it. "You've known for eight years that I have a daughter, and you never—" He cuts himself off, his jaw clenching. "Why?"
It's the question I've been dreading. The one I've asked myself a thousand times, usually at three in the morning when Ruby's had a nightmare and is sleeping in my bed, her little hand clutching my shirt.
"Because you were broken," I say, brutally honest because he deserves at least that much. "After the fire, after everything that happened, you were barely holding it together. You couldn't stay there, couldn't heal with all those reminders. I saw what it was doing to you."
"So, you decided for me." His voice is still flat, but I can see the muscle jumping in his jaw. "You decided I couldn't handle it."
"I decided not to trap you." The words come out sharper than I intend, defensive.
"I found out I was pregnant two months after you left.
Two months, Cade. You were gone. You'd made your choice.
And I—" My throat tightens, years of justifications and doubts and fears piling up.
"I thought about calling. About telling you.
But you'd just gotten to Blackwater Falls, you were starting over, and I thought—"
"You thought what? That I wouldn't want to know? That I wouldn't want to be a father?" Now the anger is bleeding through.
"I thought you needed to heal!" The words burst out of me, louder than I mean them to be.
Ruby's head snaps up, her eyes wide. I force myself to lower my voice, but I can't stop now.
"I thought that telling you about a baby when you could barely get through a day without nightmares would either save you or destroy you, and I wasn't willing to bet our daughter's life on which one it would be. "
Cade flinches like I've slapped him, and I immediately regret my honesty. But it's true. All of it. I watched him spiral after the fire, watched him blame himself for the people he couldn't save, watched him become a ghost of the man I loved.
"You should have told me anyway," he says. "You should have given me the choice."
"I know." My eyes burn with tears I refuse to let fall. Not here. Not now. "I know, and I'm sorry. I've been sorry for seven years. But I made the decision I thought was right at the time, and I can't change it now."
"Why now?" He's looking at Ruby, and something in his expression softens. "Why come here after all this time?"
"Because she's asking questions." I glance at our daughter, who's watching us with those too-perceptive eyes. "She wants to know about her dad. Deserves to know. And I—" I take a shaky breath. "I realized I was keeping you from her for my own reasons now, not hers. Because I was afraid."
"Of what?"
"Of this." I gesture between us. "Of you hating me. Of you not caring. Of you looking at her and feeling nothing." My voice drops to barely a whisper. "Of you looking at me and feeling nothing."
"I could never look at her and feel nothing," he says finally. "She's—" He stops, swallows hard. "She looks like—"
"You. She looks like you." I smile despite everything. "Acts like you too. Stubborn, fearless, drives me crazy at least three times a day with stunts that make my heart stop."
That almost-smile is back. "Sounds familiar."
"You have no idea." I brush a strand of hair behind my ear, suddenly exhausted. The adrenaline that got me through the drive and into this building is fading, leaving behind bone-deep weariness. "She wants to be a firefighter. Or a vet. She can't decide."
"Smart kid."
"She is. Smarter than both of us combined." I risk looking directly at him. "She's amazing, Cade. And I know I took eight years from you. I know I can't give those back. But if you want, if you're willing, I'd like you to know her. I'd like her to know you."
"That's why you came."
"That's why I came."
He's quiet for a long moment, his eyes moving between Ruby and me. I can see him thinking, processing, probably running through a thousand different scenarios and outcomes.
Finally, he looks at Ruby directly. "Hey, Ruby?"
She sits up straighter. "Yeah?"
"You like hot chocolate?"
Her face lights up. "I love hot chocolate!"
"There's a new place two blocks from here that opened a few weeks ago and makes the best hot chocolate in Blackwater Falls.
Probably the best in the whole state." He glances at me, and there's a question in his eyes.
Permission. "What do you say we go get some?
The three of us. We can talk. Get to know each other. "
Ruby looks at me, practically vibrating with excitement. "Can we, Mom? Please?"
I nod, not trusting my voice. Cade is trying. He's angry and hurt and probably a dozen other emotions I can't name, but he's trying. For Ruby. Maybe for me too, though I don't let myself hope for that.
"Okay." Cade runs a hand through his hair, and I notice for the first time how tired he looks. Dark circles under his eyes, lines of stress around his mouth. "Let me get cleaned up. I smell like smoke and probably look like I've been through hell."
"You kind of have," I say without thinking. "Maggie said you were on a call?"
"Apartment fire. Everyone got out." He says it like a mantra, like those three words are the only ones that matter. "I'll be quick. Five minutes."
He's at the door when Ruby calls out, "Dad?"
He freezes, his hand on the doorknob. The word Dad seems to catch him off guard, and I watch his shoulders tense.
Slowly, he turns back. "Yeah?"
"I'm glad I finally got to meet you." Ruby's smile is genuine, open, without any of the complications that we adults carry. "Mom's told me good things."
Cade's eyes find mine, and there's so much in them: surprise, pain, gratitude, and that devastating hint of the man I used to know before the fire took him from me.
"I'm glad too, Ruby." His voice is rough. "I'll be right back."
He leaves, and I hear the immediate explosion of voices in the hallway as his crew descends on him. I can't make out the words, but the tone is clear: shock, questions, probably some jokes to cut the tension.
Ruby slides off her chair and comes to stand next to me, leaning against my side. "He seems nice."
"He is nice." I wrap my arm around her, pulling her close. "He's a good man, baby. I promise."
"He looks sad."
Kids. They see everything you try to hide.
"He's had a hard time," I say. "But I think meeting you is going to make him very happy."
"I hope so." She pauses, then asks quietly, "Are you okay, Mom? You look like you're going to cry."
I am going to cry, but not here. Not yet. I've got to hold it together for Ruby, for Cade, for whatever comes next.
"I'm okay," I lie, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "Just a lot of feelings, you know?"
"I know." She hugs me tight. "It's going to be okay though. I can tell."
I wish I had her confidence. Her certainty that things will work out just because she wants them to.
But as I sit there in the conference room of the Blackwater Falls Fire Department, holding my daughter and waiting for her father to come back, I let myself hope.
Maybe she's right.
Maybe it will be okay.
Or maybe I've just made the biggest mistake of my life for the second time.
I guess I'm about to find out.