Chapter 27
STELLAN
A month slips by before I realize how fast it’s moving.
Work stays the same. Calls come in, trucks roll out, gear dries on the rack after another long shift. The firehouse runs the way it always has; steady noise, boots on concrete, radios crackling somewhere down the hall.
The rest of my time is spent at Hartley’s place.
Some nights I stop by after shift and stay later than I planned. Some weekends start there and never really end until Monday morning.
Alaska starts expecting me. The second she hears me knock, she runs for the door with fox dragging behind her. She signs my name the moment I step inside like it’s the best part of her day.
We fall into a routine without talking about it.
Dinner at the small kitchen table while Alaska swings her legs under the chair. Hartley washes dishes while I dry them because it’s faster that way. Cartoons play in the background while Alaska curls into the couch cushions and slowly drifts off.
Later, the apartment gets quiet.
Hartley and I end up in his bedroom with the low hum of city traffic outside the window. Sometimes we talk about stupid things like whether pineapple belongs on pizza, sometimes we talk about heavier things that sit between us for a while before either of us answers.
Most nights we just fall asleep tangled together.
And the sex.
Jesus.
For someone who had never been with a man before, Hartley figured things out fast.
Which is exactly why the secret I’m keeping keeps getting heavier.
I check my phone again before I call him, turning it over in my hand while I lean against the counter in the station kitchen.
The television murmurs in the corner and a weather alert crawls slowly across the bottom of the screen.
The room moves in quiet conversation, chairs shifting, a cabinet door closing somewhere down the hall, but none of it sticks in my head.
My attention stays locked on the phone in my hand, thumb hovering over Hartley’s name while I debate whether I should just call him already or give myself another minute to think.
Hartley answers on the third ring.
“Hey,” he says.
Just hearing his voice makes my shoulders drop a little.
“Hey,” I reply. “You busy?”
“Finishing up a client,” he says. “What’s up?”
“I was wondering if I could steal you for the rest of the afternoon? We’ll be back in time to get Alaska.”
“Give me ten minutes and I can close early. Is everything okay?”
I hesitate a second.
“Yeah. I wanna talk to you about something, and thought we could go for a little walk.”
There is a pause on the other end.
“A walk,” he repeats.
“Yeah. Centennial Park.”
He laughs softly. “That sounds suspicious.”
“Just come walk with me.”
“Okay,” he says finally. “Give me ten minutes.”
I end the call before I can talk myself out of this and grab my jacket off the back of the chair. My keys scrape across the metal table when I scoop them up and head for my truck.
The drive to Centennial Park takes ten minutes. I know the route without thinking about it. Traffic moves steadily, and the radio hums quietly while my brain runs the same loop it has been running for days.
You should have told him already.
You should have told him before you started looking.
I tighten my grip on the steering wheel and force a slow breath out of my lungs.
He’s going to think you’re leaving.
The thought sits heavy in my chest while I pull into the parking lot and shut off the engine. For a minute I stay in the truck, staring through the windshield at the lake beyond the trees.
I’m a firefighter. I run into burning buildings for a living. Somehow telling my boyfriend I’m house hunting feels harder.
I finally get out and start walking.
Afternoon sunlight stretches long across the grass and the lake reflects the sky in a dull sheet of gray blue. A kid rides a bike in circles while a tired looking dad watches from a bench and scrolls his phone.
I shove my hands into my jacket pockets and pace once along the path while I wait.
Hartley shows up a few minutes later.
I spot him before he sees me. He steps onto the path from the parking lot, shoulders broad under his dark jacket, dark hair pushed back like he ran his fingers through it on the way here. The wind lifts the collar slightly, and he tugs it down without thinking.
He walks toward me with that quiet confidence he carries everywhere. My heart starts to beat faster when I see him.
His hands stay buried in his pockets and there’s a crease between his brows like he’s trying to decide if this is a casual walk or something heavier.
He stops in front of me.
“You’re acting weird,” he says immediately.
I start walking before he can stare at me any longer. He falls into step beside me without hesitation.
“Am I?” I ask.
“Yes,” he says. “You called me to go on a walk like we’re about to discuss a life altering decision.”
I laugh quietly. “Relax.”
We move along the path slowly and Hartley bumps my shoulder lightly.
“Alright,” he says. “What’s going on?”
I keep my eyes on the water for a second.
“I’ve been looking at houses.”
The words come out more casually than I expected.
I keep talking, taking a couple more steps before I realize his footsteps are gone. When I turn around, Hartley is standing still on the path, staring at me.
“Houses,” he repeats.
“Yeah.”
“For you?”
“Yeah.”
He starts walking again, but something in his posture changes. His shoulders pull in slightly, and his hands disappear deeper into his pockets.
“Closer to my parents,” I explain. “Maybe a yard.”
Hartley nods once.
“That makes sense.” His voice sounds careful now.
We keep walking. The path curves around the lake. Hartley kicks a small rock off the path.
“Rockford area would be cheaper,” he mumbles.
“Probably.”
He nods again, but his eyes stay on the ground.
He thinks I’m leaving.
“That would be a slower paced place to fight fires too,” he says quietly.
I glance at him.
His expression stays calm, but I can see the tension in his jaw.
People always leave and I get left behind.
The thought flashes across his face even if he never says it.
Hartley slows when we reach a small wooden bridge crossing the narrow part of the lake. He rests his arms on the railing and looks out across the water.
“You’d like having space,” he says after a minute. “Yard for grilling, a garage maybe.”
I lean beside him.
“Maybe.”
I can see the thoughts running through his head now. He’s trying to prepare himself for something that hasn’t happened yet.
“You already looking at any places?” he asks.
“Yeah,” I say.
His jaw tightens slightly.
“Find anything good?”
“Maybe.”
We stand there quietly for a long moment before he bumps my shoulder again.
“Well,” he says, forcing a small smile. “If you move out to the suburbs I guess I’ll have to drive farther to see you.”
I reach over and take his hand. He squeezes back automatically.