7. Carla
CHAPTER 7
Carla
I stepped out of the van, autumn leaves swirling around us due to the windy day. The boys exploded from the backseat like popcorn kernels, their laughter echoing across the park as they sprinted toward the playground.
“Whoa there, slow down!” I called after them, but it was no use. They were already scaling the jungle gym like tiny Spider-Men.
Eli chuckled beside me, his familiar cologne tickling my nose. “They’ve got more energy than a pack of Duracell bunnies.”
I rolled my eyes, trying to ignore the way his smile made my stomach lurch, as if the ground had shifted beneath me. “Yeah, well, let’s see how long that lasts. I give it an hour before someone’s crying for a snack.”
As we walked toward a nearby bench, I couldn’t help but steal glances at Eli. His dark hair was tousled by the breeze, and his firefighter’s physique was evident, even under his casual flannel shirt. I scolded myself. I was here to babysit, not ogle my high school ex.
“Earth to Carla,” Eli’s voice broke through my thoughts. “You okay? You look like you’re solving world hunger in that head of yours.”
I forced a laugh, hoping it didn’t sound as strained as it felt. “Just thinking about the week ahead. Three boys, ten days... what could possibly go wrong?”
“Nine days,” he corrected.
Nothing boosted a girl’s ego more than knowing that he was counting down the minutes until we didn’t have to share space anymore.
“Hey, we’ve got this,” Eli said, bumping my shoulder playfully. “Between your organizational skills and my... uh, rugged charm, we’re practically Mary Poppins.”
I snorted. “Right, because nothing says ‘magical nanny’ like a small-town girl and a firefighter with a reputation.”
The moment the words left my mouth, I regretted them. Eli’s eyes darkened slightly, and I saw a flicker of hurt before his usual cocky grin slid back into place.
“Ouch, Puddles. Still got that sharp tongue, I see.”
I took a deep breath, trying to center myself. This was exactly why I needed to keep things platonic. Every interaction with Eli felt like walking through an emotional minefield.
“Sorry,” I muttered. “I didn’t mean—“
“Forget it.” Eli waved it off, but I could tell he hadn’t. “Let’s focus on making sure the rugrats don’t start a Lord of the Flies situation over there.”
As we settled onto the bench, I tried to shake off the memories flooding back—stolen kisses behind the bleachers, whispered promises, and the heartbreak that followed when our families found out. It felt like a lifetime ago, yet sitting there with Eli, it might as well have been yesterday.
I watched the boys play, their shrieks of joy filling the air, and reminded myself why I was there. This week wasn’t about me and Eli. It was about being there for his family, for these kids who needed us. But as Eli’s arm brushed against mine, sending shivers down my spine, I couldn’t help but wonder if I was in way over my head.
I forced a laugh, trying to lighten the mood. “Well, at least they’re burning off some energy. Maybe they’ll actually sleep tonight.”
Eli chuckled, his shoulders relaxing. “Dream on, Carla. I’m pretty sure these kids run on some kind of supernatural battery pack.”
“Oh, come on,” I teased, falling into our old rhythm despite myself. “The big, tough firefighter can’t handle a few kids?”
He clutched his chest in mock offense. “Hey now, I’ll have you know I can carry a full-grown man out of a burning building. But keeping up with three boys under ten? That’s a whole different kind of endurance test.”
I couldn’t help but laugh, the sound mingling with his in a way that felt both familiar and dangerous. Why did everything with Eli have to feel so... easy?
“I don’t know how you do it every day,” he said, gesturing toward the playground. “Teaching a whole classroom of these little tornadoes.”
I shrugged, a smile tugging at my lips. “It’s not so bad. And middle schoolers are a different kind of challenge. More hormones. Less screaming, more attitude. At least I get to send them home at the end of the day.”
“Unlike us this week,” Eli added with a grin that made a tingle dance across my skin.
I was about to respond when Linc came barreling toward us, his face scrunched up in distress. “Aunt Carla! Uncle Eli!” he wailed. “I can’t find my Spiderman!”
Eli was on his feet in an instant, his expression softening as he knelt to Linc’s level. “Hey, buddy, don’t worry. We’ll find him. Where did you last see him?”
As Linc pointed toward the jungle gym, sniffling, I found myself rising to join the search party. Eli was already heading that way, his hand on Linc’s shoulder, and I followed, trying to ignore the warmth blooming in my chest at his immediate willingness to help.
Why did he have to be so good with kids? It would have been so much easier to keep my distance if he was still the carefree, irresponsible boy I remembered. But this Eli, the one who dropped everything to find a lost toy? He was far more dangerous to my resolve.
I trailed behind them, watching as Eli began to scour the playground, his eyes darting from the slide to the sandbox. He was talking to Linc in a gentle voice, and I couldn’t help but strain to hear their conversation.
“So,” Eli said, peering under a bench, “who’s your favorite superhero? Besides Spiderman, of course.”
Linc’s face scrunched up in thought. “Um... I like Iron Man too! He’s super smart and builds cool stuff.”
Eli chuckled, and the sound sent an unwelcome shiver down my spine. “Good choice. You know, when I was your age, I was all about Batman. I even made myself a cape out of one of my mom’s old tablecloths.”
I snorted at the mental image of a tiny Eli running around in a makeshift cape. He caught my eye and winked, causing my cheeks to heat up. I quickly looked away, focusing on searching the bottom of the slide.
“Did you get in trouble?” Linc asked, wide-eyed.
“Oh, big time,” Eli admitted, grinning. “But it was worth it. I felt like I could take on the world in that cape.”
As I watched Eli engage with Linc, my heart softened, despite my best efforts. This nurturing side of him was... unexpected. And annoyingly endearing. I found myself wondering what kind of father he might be someday, then immediately shut down that train of thought.
Suddenly, Eli let out a triumphant, “Aha!” and held up a small red-and-blue figure. “Look what I found hiding under the seesaw!”
Linc’s face lit up like Christmas morning. “Spiderman!” he cried, rushing forward to claim the toy. Eli handed it over with a flourish, and Lincoln hugged it to his chest.
“What do we say, Linc?” I prompted gently.
“Thank you, Uncle Eli!” Lincoln beamed before darting off to show his brothers his recovered treasure.
“Nice work, superhero,” I said to Eli, trying to keep my tone light, despite the dangerous softness creeping in.
He grinned that infuriating grin of his, then lowered his voice and tipped an imaginary hat with his fingers. “Just doing my duty, ma’am.”
I rolled my eyes, but I couldn’t quite suppress my smile. “Come on, let’s get back to the boys before they decide to stage a jailbreak.”
As we walked back to the bench, I found myself stealing glances at Eli, wondering how many more surprises this week had in store—and whether my heart could handle them.
Just as I was about to express my gratitude more sincerely, a jogger passed by, her ponytail swinging in perfect rhythm. She slowed her pace, flashing a dazzling smile at Eli and offering a flirtatious wave.
My heart plummeted as Eli returned the gesture with a friendly nod, his easy charm on full display. It was like watching a well-rehearsed dance, one I’d seen too many times before.
“Nice afternoon, isn’t it?” Eli called out, his voice carrying that hint of playful warmth that seemed to draw women like moths to a flame.
The jogger’s cheeks flushed, and she giggled— actually giggled —before continuing on her way, throwing one last glance over her shoulder.
I squashed the sudden wave of jealousy rising in my chest. This was classic Eli—the town’s most eligible bachelor, leaving a trail of swooning women in his wake. It was exactly why I needed to keep my guard up.
“Friend of yours?” I asked, aiming for casual but landing somewhere closer to strained.
Eli shrugged, seemingly oblivious to the effect he had. “Nope. Just being neighborly.”
I bit back a sarcastic retort, reminding myself that Eli’s reputation wasn’t my concern. Instead, I turned my attention back to the boys, watching them chase each other around the playground equipment.
“Hey, Alex!” I called out, forcing brightness into my voice. “Want to show me that new monkey bar trick you’ve been practicing?”
Alex raced over, excitement radiating from his face. I tried to focus on his chatter about hand positions and momentum. But a traitorous part of my mind kept replaying the jogger’s smile and Eli’s easy charm.
I knew better than to go down this road again. He was Eli Wells—charming, unreliable, and definitely not relationship material. I had to remember the heartache of him walking away. Remember why I was keeping my distance.
But even as I listed all the reasons to stay away, my heart whispered the counterarguments. The way he was with the boys. The familiar comfort of our banter. The way he seemed to let me see more of him than he showed anyone else.
I shook my head, pushing those thoughts aside. One week of forced proximity couldn’t change years of history and family animosity. I plastered on a smile and focused on Alex’s triumphant grin as he swung across the bars.
Suddenly, Eli was at my side, his presence sending an unwelcome jolt through me. “Hey,” he said, his voice low and warm. “The boys have been troopers today. What do you say we treat them to some ice cream?”
I glanced at him, surprised by the suggestion. It was thoughtful, and exactly the kind of distraction I needed. “That’s actually a great idea,” I replied, grateful for the chance to redirect my focus. I turned to the boys, raising my voice. “Boys! Who wants ice cream?”
Their excited cheers echoed across the playground as they raced toward us, faces lit up with joy. As we herded them toward the van, I couldn’t help but smile. The drive to Dairy Freeze out by the interstate was mercifully short but long enough for Eli and me to fall into an unexpectedly comfortable rhythm. As he navigated the familiar streets of Minden toward the highway, I found myself relaxing despite my earlier resolve.
“Remember that time in high school,” Eli said, a mischievous glint in his eye, “when we snuck out to get late-night sundaes and you dropped your entire cone in Nathan’s freshly washed car?”
I groaned, the memory flooding back. “Oh, don’t remind me. We both thought he was going to murder you.”
“Hey, I was the perfect brother,” Eli quipped. “Offered to lick it clean and everything.”
I couldn’t help but laugh, even as I rolled my eyes. As we traded more stories and jokes, punctuated by the boys’ excited chatter from the backseat, I felt my guard slipping. It was so easy, so natural, to fall back into this pattern with Eli. The way he smiled when he teased, the way he didn’t take himself too seriously.
But that small, protective voice in my head niggled at me. I couldn’t get too comfortable. This was temporary. He hadn’t changed.
I tried to heed that voice, anchoring myself in reality. Yet as Eli’s laughter filled the truck, warm and genuine, it was like stepping into a memory—a time when things were simpler, and my heart wasn’t weighed down by caution.
I had to stop. I had to focus on the kids.
Even so, when we pulled into the Dairy Freeze lot and Eli glanced at me with that familiar twinkle in his eyes, I knew I was fighting a losing battle.
The boys were practically vibrating with excitement. As we approached the ice cream counter, the sweet scent of sugar cones and vanilla wafted through the air.
“Alright, troops,” Eli announced, clapping his hands together. “Who’s ready for some ice cream?”
A chorus of enthusiastic cheers erupted from the boys. I couldn’t help but smile at their unbridled joy.
“I want chocolate!” Alex declared confidently.
Linc nodded vigorously. “Me too! With sprinkles!”
Joey, however, looked overwhelmed by the colorful array of flavors displayed behind the glass. His little brow furrowed as he stood on his tiptoes, trying to get a better view.
Without missing a beat, Eli swooped in. “Here, buddy, let me help you out,” he said, lifting Joey effortlessly onto his hip. “What looks good to you?”
As Eli patiently pointed out different flavors to Joey, explaining each one with animated descriptions, a warmth bloomed in my chest. It was a scene so achingly domestic, so natural, that for a second I let myself imagine what it would be like if things were different between us. If we weren’t carrying the weight of our families’ feud, if Eli wasn’t... well, Eli.
I shook off the thought, focusing instead on helping Alex and Linc decide between toppings. But as I stole glances at Eli and Joey, I couldn’t quite squash the longing that welled up inside me.
“What about you, Carla?” Eli’s voice broke through my reverie. “Still a mint chocolate chip girl?”
I blinked, surprised he remembered. “Uh, yeah. Old habits die hard, I guess.”
He grinned, that heart-stopping smile I remembered all too well. “Some things never change.”
And maybe some things could. That stubborn glimmer of hope flashed again, nestled in the center of my chest.
With our ice creams in hand, we settled at a nearby picnic table. The boys dove into their treats with gusto, their faces quickly becoming sticky messes of chocolate and sprinkles.
“So,” Eli said, turning to the kids, “who’s got the coolest superpower? Spider-Man or Superman?”
This launched an animated debate among the boys, each passionately defending their favorite hero. As they chattered away, I found my gaze drawn to Eli. He was listening intently to each child’s argument, nodding seriously as if this were the most important discussion in the world.
Suddenly, he looked up, catching me mid-stare. Instead of the cocky smirk I expected, he offered a warm, genuine smile that sent my heart into overdrive. I quickly averted my eyes, focusing intently on my rapidly melting ice cream.
But even as I tried to find my resolve, I could feel my carefully constructed walls beginning to crumble.
The afternoon sun dipped lower, casting long shadows across the restaurant’s outdoor seating area. I watched as the golden light caught Eli’s profile, highlighting the strong line of his jaw and the crinkles around his eyes as he laughed at one of Joey’s nonsensical jokes. My chest tightened with a familiar ache.
“Earth to Carla,” Eli’s voice cut through my thoughts. “You okay there? You’re looking a little spaced out.”
I forced a smile, hoping it didn’t look as strained as it felt. “Just thinking about all the superhero homework I need to do to keep up with these guys.”
Eli chuckled, his eyes twinkling. “Don’t worry, I’ll give you a crash course. Lesson one: capes are cool, but totally impractical.”
The boys erupted into giggles, and I couldn’t help but join in. As I watched Eli interact with them, I was struck by how natural he seemed, how effortlessly he had slipped into this role. It was a far cry from the reckless teenager I remembered.
“Alright, superheroes,” I announced, standing up and gathering our trash. “Time to head back to base. Your parents are planning to call tonight!”
As we walked to the car, Alex tugged on my sleeve. “Can we do this again tomorrow, Miss Carla? Please?”
I ruffled his hair, my heart swelling. “We’ll see, buddy. One day at a time, okay?”
Eli caught my eye over the kids’ heads, raising an eyebrow. “I like the sound of that… Sometimes, it’s easier not to think about tomorrow. Or get hung up on the past.”
I nodded, unable to formulate a response. As I helped buckle the boys into their seats, I took a deep breath. One day at a time, I repeated to myself. That’s all I could handle right now. Whatever this thing with Eli was becoming, whatever this week might bring, I’d face it one day at a time.