5. Maple
five
Maple
The sound wakes me at two in the morning: a loud crack followed by the crash of something falling. I bolt upright in bed, heart hammering, as the smell of dust fills the air.
"Mommy?" Ally's voice, small and scared from her room down the hall.
"Stay put, sweetheart. I'll check it out."
I grab my robe and a flashlight, padding carefully through the house. In the kitchen, disaster greets me. A section of the ceiling has collapsed, bringing down chunks of plaster and a light fixture. Water drips steadily from the broken pipes above, pooling on the floor.
"Oh no," I breathe, surveying the damage. "Oh no, oh no, oh no."
This is worse than the foundation. This is immediate, urgent, and completely beyond my ability to fix. I don't even know where to start.
My phone. I need to call someone, but who? At two in the morning, my options are limited. Jake would come if I asked, but what could he do? A plumber would cost a fortune for an emergency call, money I definitely don't have.
Almost without thinking, I dial Flint's number.
"Hello?" His voice is alert despite the hour, as if he wasn't really sleeping.
"Flint, I'm so sorry to wake you, but there's been an accident. The kitchen ceiling collapsed and there's water everywhere and I don't know what to do."
"I'll be right there."
The line goes dead. No questions, no hesitation. Just the promise of help when I need it most.
He arrives in less than ten minutes. His hair is mussed from sleep, but his eyes are sharp and focused as he surveys the damage.
"Water pipe," he says immediately, dropping to his knees to examine the broken pipes. "Old galvanized steel. Probably corroded from the inside out."
"Can you fix it?"
"I can stop the immediate problem. Full repair will have to wait until morning." He's already reaching for his toolbox. "Where's your water shutoff?"
"I... I don't know."
"Basement?"
"We don't have one. Just a crawl space."
He nods and heads outside. Within minutes, the water stops flowing. When he returns, he's covered in mud but grimly satisfied.
"Water's off. I'll patch the pipes temporarily, but you'll need a plumber for permanent repairs."
"I can't afford a plumber right now."
"I know a guy who owes me a favor."
He works quickly and efficiently, climbing into the damaged ceiling to assess the situation. I watch his sure movements, the competent way he handles each problem, and feel something warm unfurl in my chest that has nothing to do with gratitude.
This is what security feels like. Having someone who shows up without question, who knows how to fix what's broken, who doesn't make you feel like a burden for needing help.
"Mommy?" Ally appears in the doorway, rubbing sleepy eyes. "What happened?"
"Pipe broke, sweetheart. But Mr. Flint is fixing it."
Ally pads over to where Flint is working, unafraid despite the chaos. "Are you magic?"
He pauses in his work to look down at her, something soft crossing his face. "No magic. Just tools and know-how."
"My daddy says you're taking advantage of Mommy."
Heat floods my cheeks. "Ally!"
"Your daddy's wrong," Flint says simply, returning to his work. "I'm helping your mom because that's what neighbors do."
"Are we neighbors?"
"In Silver Ridge, everyone's neighbors."
It's such a perfect answer that I want to hug him. Instead, I settle for herding Ally back to bed while Flint finishes his temporary repairs.
When I return to the kitchen, he's sweeping up the worst of the debris. The immediate crisis is over, but the damage is still significant. My ceiling is half gone, my kitchen unusable, and I have no idea how I'm going to pay for proper repairs.
"Hey," Flint says softly, seeing my expression. "It's not as bad as it looks."
"It looks pretty bad."
"Ceiling's cosmetic. Pipes can be replaced. Kitchen will be better than before when we're done."
"We?"
He sets down the broom and faces me fully. "I'm not going anywhere, Maple. Not until everything's fixed."
The certainty in his voice, the steadiness of his gaze, makes something tight in my chest finally loosen.
For so long, I've carried everything alone—every decision, every crisis, every fear about Ally's future.
Having someone share that burden, even temporarily, feels like being able to breathe again.
"Why?" I whisper. "Why are you helping me?"
He's quiet for a long moment, studying my face in the dim light. "Because you matter," he says finally. "You and Ally both. This town is better with you in it."
"Flint..."
"And because I care about you. More than I probably should."
The admission hangs between us, honest and vulnerable. My heart pounds as I process what he's just said, what it means, how much I want it to be true.
"More than you should?" I ask.
"You're my client. I'm supposed to keep things professional."
"And if I wasn't your client?"
He steps closer, close enough to feel the warmth radiating from his body.
"If you weren't my client, I'd tell you that I think about you constantly. That seeing you smile is the best part of my day. That the idea of Derek taking you away from here makes me want to punch something."
My breath catches. "Flint..."
"I'd tell you that you're the strongest woman I've ever met, and the most beautiful, and that any man who walked away from you is the biggest fool alive."
He's so close now that I have to tilt my head back to meet his eyes. So close that it would be easy to rise on my toes and kiss him, to give in to the attraction that's been building between us for weeks.
"What if I told you I feel the same way?" I whisper.
Something flares in his eyes—heat, hope, hunger. "Do you?"
Instead of answering with words, I close the distance between us, pressing my lips to his.
The kiss starts gentle, tentative, but quickly deepens as he pulls me against his chest. He tastes like coffee and determination, and the careful way he holds me makes my knees weak.
When we finally break apart, both breathing hard, he rests his forehead against mine.
"I meant what I said. I'm not going anywhere. Whatever it takes to keep you and Ally safe and happy here, I'll do it."
"Even if it means dealing with Derek?"
"Especially if it means dealing with Derek."
The fierce protectiveness in his voice sends warmth spiraling through me. This is what I've been missing, what I didn't even know I was looking for—a partner, a protector, a man who sees my worth and chooses to stand beside me.
"Stay tonight?" I ask quietly. "On the couch, I mean. In case there are more problems."
"Already planning on it."
Of course he was. Because that's who Flint Miller is—the man who shows up, who stays, who fixes what's broken and protects what's precious.
As I head to bed, leaving him settling onto my too-small couch with blankets and a pillow, I'm smiling despite the chaos of the evening. My ceiling might be gone and my pipes might be broken, but somehow everything feels more solid than it has in years.
Because I'm not facing it alone anymore.