12. Elijah
CHAPTER 12
Elijah
I wiped the same spot on the fire truck’s gleaming red hood for the tenth time, my mind a million miles away from the task at hand. The rag moved in mindless circles as I replayed my latest encounter with Carla. Her dark eyes had flashed with that familiar mix of annoyance and something else—something that made my heart try to surge out of my chest.
I was so lost in thought, I didn’t hear Chief Danny approach until he cleared his throat. I nearly jumped out of my skin, whirling around to see him standing there with an amused smirk on his face.
“Trying to rub a hole in that truck, Wells?” He gestured to the spot I’d been scrubbing relentlessly.
I glanced down at the rag in my hand, realizing I’d been polishing the same spot for who knows how long. Smooth move, Eli. I plastered on my trademark grin, hoping to cover my embarrassment.
“Just making sure it’s extra shiny, Chief. You know, in case Matteo needs to check his hair on a call.”
The Chief’s eyebrows shot up and an amused smile crossed his lips.
“I heard that!” Matteo called from across the truck bay. I laughed, grateful for the easy banter.
“Just being prepared,” I called back.
“Speaking of being prepared,” Danny said, leaning against the truck, “you seem a bit... distracted today. Everything alright?”
I felt my smile falter for a split second before I caught myself. “Who, me? Nah, I’m good. Just, uh, pondering the great mysteries of life. You know, like why hot dogs come in packs of ten but buns only come in packs of eight. That kind of thing.”
Chief raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. “Uh-huh. And I suppose these ‘great mysteries’ have nothing to do with a certain dark-haired schoolteacher?”
I froze, a nervous excitement curling in my belly. Was I that obvious? “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said, trying to keep my voice casual. “But, hypothetically speaking, what if a guy found himself in a situation where he, I don’t know, had feelings for someone he probably shouldn’t?”
Chief Danny’s expression softened. “Hypothetically, huh?”
I nodded, suddenly finding the fire truck’s gleaming surface fascinating. “Yeah, you know, asking for a friend.”
“Well,” the chief said slowly, “I’d tell your ‘friend’ that matters of the heart are rarely simple. Especially in a town as small as Minden.”
I couldn’t help but snort. “You got that right. It’s like trying to keep a secret in a town where everyone has a porch and a pair of binoculars. Hypothetically, of course.”
The chief leaned against the fire truck, his weathered face creasing with a knowing smile. “Eli, let me tell you something I’ve learned over the years. Life’s too short to let other people’s opinions dictate your happiness. If there’s someone who makes your heart race, someone who challenges you to be better, you owe it to yourself to explore that.”
I felt my chest tighten at his words. The chief’s calm demeanor and understanding tone made me want to spill everything, but I held back, my usual defenses kicking in. “Even if it might cause, I don’t know, a small-town civil war?”
“Especially then,” he said, his voice firm but kind. “The people who truly care about you will come around. And those who don’t? Well, their opinions aren’t worth sacrificing your chance at happiness.”
I paused in my work, the rag hanging limply from my hand as I absorbed his words. My mind inevitably drifted to Carla—her quick wit, her infectious laugh, the way her eyes lit up when she talked about her students. A warmth spread through my chest, quickly followed by a familiar twist of anxiety.
Could I handle it if Dad never came around?
“But what if—“ I started, then stopped, swallowing hard. The second reason I hadn’t pursued Carla had pushed to the forefront of my mind. “What if you’re not good enough for them? What if you’re just the family screw-up and everyone knows it?” I stared at the rag in my hands, fighting back the burning sensation in my eyes.
The chief’s hand landed on my shoulder, solid and reassuring. “Elijah, that’s your father’s voice talking, not yours. And not the Lord’s. You’re a darn good firefighter and an even better man. Don’t let anyone tell you different. Even him.”
I nodded shakily, a lump forming in my throat. The chief’s words echoed in my head, battling against years of doubt and insecurity. “I don’t know if I can risk it,” I admitted.
The chief watched me, his weathered face softening. His voice took on that sage-like quality that always made me feel like a kid in Sunday school. “Life’s too short to let fear call the shots. Sometimes, you’ve got to be willing to risk it all for what really matters.” He clapped me on the shoulder and hummed as he walked away, presumably to offer life advice to another poor firefighter.
As I turned back to the task at hand, my mind was racing. Maybe it was time to stop running, to face this head-on. The idea terrified me, but there was an undercurrent of excitement too. What if I actually had a shot at happiness?
I scrubbed at a particularly stubborn spot on the truck, my movements mirroring the determination building inside me. Maybe it was time to be bold, to take a risk.
I paused mid-scrub, the soapy sponge dripping onto my boots. “What if it all goes up in flames, Chief?” I asked his retreating back, unable to keep the hint of vulnerability from creeping into my voice. “And I don’t mean the kind we can put out with a hose.”
He chuckled, the sound warm and reassuring. “Then you pick yourself up, dust off the ashes, and keep moving forward. That’s what we do, isn’t it?”
I nodded, a small smile tugging at the corners of my mouth. The chief had a point. We faced down danger every day. How much scarier could it be to face my own heart?
I blew out a breath. At least a thousand times scarier. I was pretty sure that was a good estimate.