Chapter 7
Firefighting Hero
Jess had been staring at the ceiling of her garage apartment for three hours when the sun finally came up.
That shouldn't have happened.
Wayne's words played on repeat in her head, along with the feeling of his hands on her waist, his mouth on hers, the way he'd lifted her onto that workbench like she weighed nothing. The heat of him, the desperate edge to his kiss—
And then nothing. Just that abrupt retreat, those clipped words, and the slam of the door behind her.
She should face her grandparents. Act normal. Pretend yesterday hadn't turned her entire world sideways.
Jess dragged herself out of bed, into the shower, and later crossed the yard to the main house. The smell of coffee and bacon hit her the moment she opened the back door.
“There she is!” Grandma looked up from the stove, spatula in hand. “I was beginning to think you'd sleep all day.”
“It's seven-thirty, Grandma.”
“Exactly. Half the morning gone.” Grandma turned back to the bacon, but not before Jess caught the assessing look in her eyes. “You feeling alright, dear? You look tired.”
“Didn't sleep great.” Jess poured herself coffee and settled at the kitchen table across from her grandfather, who was hidden behind the morning paper.
“Your grandmother's worried about you,” Grandpa said, lowering the paper enough to peer at her over his reading glasses.
“I'm fine.”
“That's what people say when they're not fine.” But he raised the paper again, giving her space.
Grandma set a plate of bacon and eggs in front of Jess. “Is everything alright with the barn arrangement? Wayne treating you well?”
Jess's stomach twisted. “It's fine. The workspace is perfect.”
“And Wayne?”
“Is also fine.” She focused on her eggs. “Why do you ask?”
“No reason. Just that you've been spending a lot of time over there.” Grandma settled into her own chair with her coffee. “We're not complaining, dear. Just want to make sure you're happy.”
“I'm happy.”
“You don't look happy.”
Jess set down her fork. “Grandma. I'm fine. The work is going well. Wayne's been very generous with the space. Everything's on track for the fundraiser.”
All true. All completely beside the point.
Grandma studied her for a long moment, then seemed to let it go. “Well, that's good. Grandpa and I were just saying how nice it is that you've found somewhere to work. And Wayne's such a responsible young man. Keeps to himself, but very reliable.”
Something in her tone made Jess look up. “Do you know him well?”
“Wayne?” Grandma exchanged a glance with Grandpa, who lowered his paper again. “Not particularly. He's always been a bit of a hermit. Especially after his mother passed.”
“When was that?”
“Oh, let's see... six years ago? Maybe seven. Cancer.” Grandma shook her head. “Terrible thing. Wayne took it hard.”
“He lived with her?”
“In that house, yes. After she died, Wayne just... stayed.” Grandma leaned forward. “Why all the questions, dear?"
Jess shrugged, trying for casual. “Just curious. We work together most afternoons, but I don't really know much about him.”
“Not much to know, from what I've heard.” Grandpa folded his paper. “Good at his work. Shows up when the fire department needs him. That's about it.”
“Has he ever... dated anyone? That you know of?”
Both grandparents looked at her sharply.
“Now that's an interesting question,” Grandma said, her eyes gleaming.
“I'm just asking.”
“Mmm-hmm.” Grandma sipped her coffee. “There was a girl a few years back—worked at the bank. Dated almost a year, then she left for Atlanta. Broke his heart. He's been alone ever since.”
Jess absorbed this. Dead mother. Broken relationship. Years of isolation.
What made you so scared of letting people in?
“Why the sudden interest in Wayne's love life?” Grandpa's tone was mild, but his eyes were sharp.
“No reason.” Jess forced herself to take a bite of bacon. “Just making conversation.”
The silence stretched. Finally, desperate to change the subject, Jess plastered on a grin.
“So! Guess who's a firefighting hero now?”
Both grandparents looked up.
“Yesterday at the barn, some steel wool caught fire. Poof!” She threw her hands in the air and made a sizzling sound.
“I grabbed the extinguisher and boom! Put it out just like this!” She snapped her fingers.
“Wayne didn't even have time to react. I was so smooth, Grandma, you should've seen it.
Like I'd been training for it my whole life.”
She was going for lighthearted, funny, look-how-competent-I-am.
The joke died when she saw their faces.
Grandma had gone pale. Ken set down his coffee cup with a sharp click.
“There was a fire,” Grandma said slowly. “In Wayne's barn. Where you were working.”
“I mean—it was barely a fire. More like an aggressive spark, really—”
“Jessica Marie Hartley.”
The full name. Never good.
“Grandma, I promise it was fine. I handled it perfectly. The safety measures in that barn are top-notch. The extinguisher was right there, I knew exactly what to do, and it was out before there was any danger.”
“What if it hadn't been?” Grandma's face had gone pale. “What if you'd been hurt?”
“But it didn't.” Jess reached across the table to pat her grandmother's hand. “I know what I'm doing, Grandma. I've been working with fire for over a decade. This kind of thing happens sometimes. It's why you have safety equipment.”
“I don't like it.” Grandma looked at Grandpa, who was frowning deeply.
“I didn't mention it because it wasn't a big deal,” Jess said, kicking herself for bringing it up. “Seriously. Ask Wayne—he barely reacted.”
“Part of working with heat and metal and glass is almost burning down buildings?” Grandma's voice had risen.
“It is safe. Wayne runs that space like a professional operation. He's a volunteer firefighter, for heaven's sake. If anyone knows fire safety, it's him.”
This seemed to mollify Grandma slightly. “Well. That's true, I suppose.”
“And I promise I'll be more careful. Extra careful.” Jess squeezed her grandmother's hand. “Okay?”
“Okay.” But Grandma still looked worried. “Just... be safe, dear. You're all we have here.”
The words hit hard. All they had here. Because she'd come back to take care of them. And now she was spending all her time in Wayne Drummond's barn, chasing a career that might never materialize and a man who apparently didn't want to be caught.
“You know what?” Jess set down her fork. “We should do something together this weekend. A day trip, maybe. That apple orchard you mentioned, Grandma? Or we could drive to that restaurant in Blue Ridge you've been wanting to try.”
Grandma's expression softened immediately. “Oh, that would be lovely, dear.”
“Friday,” Jess said firmly. “The whole day. No barn, no work. Just us.”
“Your grandmother would like that,” Ken said from behind his paper.
“You're coming too, right, Grandpa?” Jess looked at him pointedly.
He lowered the paper with a small smile. “Wouldn't miss it.”
“Good.” Jess squeezed his hand.
The guilt eased slightly, replaced by something warmer. This was why she'd come home. Not just for workspace or career opportunities. For this—for family, for connection, for being present in people's lives.
Even if her heart was currently tangled up with a grumpy blacksmith who kept pushing her away.
Jess finished her breakfast quickly, then escaped back to her apartment above the garage.
She sat on her bed and pulled out her portfolio—the leather case she'd carried through RISD, through three years in Brooklyn, and now home to Elken Grove. Inside were photos of her best work, and then the new pieces. The ones she'd made in Wayne's barn.
They were different. Freer, somehow. The winter baubles with their snowflake patterns. The cobalt tumblers that seemed to glow from within. The asymmetrical vase that looked like it had grown rather than been shaped.
These were hers. Really hers. Not made to please a professor or pay the rent. Made because she wanted to make them.
Made in a barn where a man worked across from her, his hammer ringing out in steady rhythm, his presence both comforting and electric.
Jess closed the portfolio and lay back.
She was falling for Wayne Drummond. Had been falling for him probably since that first afternoon when he'd helped her move the kiln. Definitely falling by the time their hands had brushed, and she'd felt that jolt of pure want.
And yesterday, when he'd kissed her? When he'd pulled her against him like he'd been waiting for permission?
Yeah. She'd fallen.
The problem was, Wayne had apparently decided to catch himself mid-fall and scramble back to solid ground.
She thought about what her grandparents had said. About his mother dying, his girlfriend leaving, his years of isolation.
What had happened to make him so afraid?
And more importantly—was he worth fighting for?
Jess sat up abruptly, decision crystallizing.
Yes. He was worth fighting for.
Because she'd seen the man beneath the walls. Seen his careful precision, his quiet pride with the heart pendants. Seen the way he watched her work like it was something sacred. Seen the flash of vulnerability in his eyes right before he'd kissed her.
That man was worth the risk.
She'd come back to Elken Grove to rebuild her life on her terms. To stop playing it safe, stop settling for less than she deserved.
If she wanted Wayne Drummond, she was going to have to be brave enough to go after him.
Jess checked the time. She usually headed to the barn around this time.
Today would be no different. She'd show up like nothing had happened. Work on their skit for the demonstration. Be professional, friendly, normal.
But she'd also push. Gently. Carefully. But persistently.
She'd show him that she wasn't scared of his walls. That she wasn't going anywhere just because he'd panicked and pulled away.
And if he pushed back? If he really didn't want this?
At least she'd know she tried.
Jess stood and started gathering her things—a couple of water bottles, a sandwich, and her sketch for a new design. Her hands were steady, her heart was pounding, but her mind was clear.
She was done playing it safe.
Wayne Drummond had kissed her like she was everything he'd ever wanted. And then he'd run scared.
Well, Jess Hartley had spent three years in Brooklyn learning that the things worth having were the things you had to fight for.
Time to show a certain grumpy blacksmith that she knew how to fight.