16. Samantha
CHAPTER 16
Samantha
T he popcorn kernels rattled in the pot, and I stirred them absentmindedly, watching as they jumped and popped. It was almost funny—how something small and hard could transform under the right conditions.
Maybe I needed to do the same.
I wasn’t sure when it had happened, but the anger I’d held onto for so long—at Evan for disappearing, at myself for ever believing I could keep Sophia a secret—was starting to feel… exhausting. I had always been able to rationalize my decision to keep her to myself, because he hadn’t tried to find me, either. I wasn’t hiding her, per se.
But when he’d admitted to trying to find me? I could feel the little chink in the armor I’d so faithfully donned for fourteen years.
It had been easier when he was just a ghost from my past, but now he was here, a steady presence in Sophia’s life. And despite every instinct telling me to keep my guard up, I didn’t want to be angry anymore.
And moments like these made it all the harder.
"Mom, is it ready yet?" Sophia’s voice, impatient but excited, pulled me back to the moment. “What flavor are you doing?”
"Almost," I said, giving the pot one last shake. “It’s white cheddar tonight. Will you get the movie ready?"
She darted off, and I took a deep breath, pouring the popcorn into a bowl and spraying it with olive oil. I added the powdered cheese and gave the whole bowl a few big swirls. Then, squaring my shoulders, I walked into the living room.
Evan and Sophia were already settled on the couch, flipping through movie options. They were at ease with each other, and that alone made my chest tighten—not with resentment, but something quieter. Something I wasn’t quite ready to name.
“Perfect timing.” Evan glanced up, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. “What are we watching tonight?”
I hesitated for only a second before sitting down next to Sophia, forcing myself to relax.
Maybe I wasn’t ready to let go of the past entirely. But tonight, I could try.
"Something with action, I hope," I mused, handing him the bowl before settling down beside them. I didn’t think I could handle anything too romantic.
"Action it is." He smiled, and there was that humor in his eyes that always seemed to make the room brighter. "Let's see if we can find something that won't have us covering Sophia's eyes."
"Hey, I'm thirteen, not three," Sophia protested playfully, grabbing a handful of popcorn. "I can handle action." She yawned through the last several words, and I met Evan’s glance over her head. It was already after eight on Friday night, but I’d foolishly agreed to a movie before dinner took twice as long as I’d expected.
We settled on a spy movie with good reviews. With a click of the remote, the movie started, its opening credits rolling across the screen. The room was bathed in flickering light. I nestled closer to Sophia.
About ninety minutes later, the movie had reached the climax, but Sophia's breathing had taken on the deep and even rhythm that signaled she'd drifted off to dreamland. Her head, hair in a messy bun, rested against my shoulder. I glanced down at her peaceful face, feeling a surge of love for this tiny person who had weathered life's storms right by my side.
Carefully, I reached over and pulled the fleece blanket up around her chin, tucking it gently under her arms. She murmured something unintelligible and snuggled deeper into the warmth. I smiled. There's something about a sleeping child that just made the world seem right, even if just for a moment.
With the room now quiet except for the quiet dialogue of the film, I turned my attention back to the screen. But not for long. My gaze was drawn to Evan, his profile illuminated by the TV's glow. He caught me looking.
"Maybe I should go," he whispered, motioning toward Sophia. "Don't want to wake her."
I shook my head, a little too eagerly. "You can stay. It’s… kind of nice.” The words hung in the air between us, simple but heavy with meaning.
"Alright," Evan said, settling back into the couch. His presence filled the space with a comforting energy that I hadn't realized I'd missed until just then.
"Thanks for coming tonight, Evan," I continued, my voice a murmur matching the tranquility of the room. “I’m sure there are other things you could do on a Friday night as a single guy.”
He offered a half-smile, the kind that didn’t quite reach the eyes but still managed to convey warmth. "There’s nowhere else I’d rather be."
I let myself ask the question that had been on my mind since I first saw him at the Spring Sparks Auction. “How did you end up in Minden anyway? We’re a long way from Chicago.”
His lips lifted in a half-smile. “Well, I’m starting to think it was all a God thing, you know. If I hadn’t moved here, I might never have found you.”
I responded with a low hum, not sure how else to respond.
“I’d been with the Chicago Fire Department for about ten years. I moved up through the ranks quickly, and I was in line for a promotion to a station chief, which is a pretty big deal. But I knew that part of the reason I was even in the conversation was because I was a Mercer. I hated the idea that I was getting something I hadn’t earned. So I started looking outside Chicago. When I saw the posting that MRFD was looking for an assistant chief, I decided to apply.” He shrugged. “It’s worked out so far, I guess.”
I shook my head. “That’s crazy. Whatever happened to getting your MBA? When we were in Florida, all you talked about was what you were going to change when you took over your dad’s business.”
His eyes flashed with an expression I couldn’t name.
“You know my brother had Long QT?”
I frowned at the change of subject, but shook my head. “No, I didn’t.”
I turned my body toward him, folding my legs beneath me on the couch. Sophia's steady breathing was a comforting rhythm in the quiet room. I nodded for him to continue, my heart already bracing for the weight of his words.
“That was how I knew so much about it when we picked up Sophia that day. I didn’t know until later, but that was what killed him in the fire.” His eyes locked onto mine, a raw vulnerability shining through. "He didn't stand a chance, not with the crowd, the smoke... And his heart just couldn't take it."
My own heart dropped at the revelation. “I’m so sorry,” I said.
“After his funeral, I decided to join the fire service. Mason was a better person than me, by far. And I just… I wanted to do something that would make him proud. I decided that adding a few zeroes to the family bank account wasn’t really all that noble.”
I gripped the blanket a little tighter around Sophia, feeling a surge of protectiveness for both my daughter and the man beside me who had suffered so much loss.
"That's why you became a firefighter?" My voice was barely above a whisper, but it carried all the admiration and sorrow I felt for him in that moment.
Evan nodded, a shadow of a smile flickering across his face. "Yeah. I think I thought, if I could save someone else's brother, maybe it would..." His voice trailed off, leaving the sentence unfinished, but I understood.
My heart ached for him, for the burden of guilt he'd shouldered all these years. Watching him closely, I saw the strain in the set of his jaw, the way his hands clasped and unclasped as though trying to release something intangible.
"Evan," I began, my tone deliberate, choosing each word as if it were a lifeline I was offering him. "You didn't let your brother down."
His gaze wavered, a storm of doubt and sorrow threatening to spill over. The silence stretched between us. “I wish I could believe that,” he said.
The glow from the television painted his face in shades of blue and gold, highlighting the creases etched around his eyes—lines that spoke of smiles now rare and frowns all too common. In the shifting light, I saw a glimmer of the boy I remembered, the one who laughed easily and dreamed boldly before life demanded a sacrifice he was never prepared to give.
"Sometimes," I said, my voice barely above a whisper, "the hardest person to forgive is yourself."
Evan let out a breath, long and slow, his eyes locked on the screen but clearly not seeing it. The weight of his pain was almost tangible, stretching between us like a thread frayed thin with time.
Between us, Sophia stirred, nestling deeper into the couch cushions, her tiny hand curling instinctively around the fabric of Evan’s sleeve. He glanced down at her, his features softening in a way that made something shift inside me.
“She trusts you,” I murmured, my voice barely louder than the hum of the television. “She’s comfortable with you.”
His fingers twitched, but he didn’t pull away from her grasp. “I don’t know if I deserve that.”
The honesty in his voice wrapped around me, tugging me closer in a way I hadn’t expected. This man—this strong, steady firefighter who had walked back into our lives—was still carrying so much guilt. But I saw the way he looked at Sophia, the way he showed up for her, the way he tried. Maybe it wasn’t about deserving. Maybe it was about being willing.
And Evan was willing.
That scared me.
For so long, it had been just Sophia and me. I’d built our life on the certainty that no one else would swoop in and change things. I’d been both her safety net and her only constant. But now, here he was, showing up in ways I hadn’t let myself believe he ever would.
The weight of his presence wasn’t just in the room—it was in my heart, pressing against every wall I’d put up.
I cleared my throat and glanced down at Sophia, her small fingers still curled loosely around Evan’s sleeve. She trusted him, but more than that—she already cared about him. The thought sent a sharp pang through me.
If she got attached and he left…
No. I couldn’t go there.
Evan shifted beside me, his arm resting along the back of the couch. Not quite touching me, but close enough that the warmth of him sent an awareness prickling across my skin. I tried to ignore it, tried to focus on the movie, on Sophia, on anything but the man beside me.
“She’s amazing, you know,” he murmured.
I turned my head slightly, just enough to see the adoring look in his eyes as he watched our daughter sleep.
“I know,” I said, my voice quieter than I meant for it to be.
He exhaled, his fingers flexing where they rested against the couch. “I hate that I missed so much. I don’t know how to make up for it.”
I hesitated, searching for the right words. “You can’t get back the years we lost, Evan. But you can be here now.”
His gaze lifted to mine, searching, questioning. I could see the self-doubt, the hesitation that had nothing to do with whether or not he wanted to be here, but whether or not I’d let him.
I swallowed, knowing I had to take the hit to my own pride to reassure him. “And so far… you’re doing great.”
Something shifted in his expression.
And for the first time since he walked back into our lives, I realized that maybe I wasn’t just afraid of him leaving.
Maybe I was afraid of what it would mean if he stayed.