Chapter 13 – Michael
Chapter Thirteen
MICHAEL
A fter making my marks along the wall where the new counter will go, I jot down the measurements and step back to get a visual.
It’s usually something I’m good at—imagining a space completely redone before one part is even changed. With the firehouse’s kitchen, though, I’m hitting a wall. I can’t see anything other than what’s in front of me.
Rubbing the back of my neck, I sigh. My frustration has been mounting ever since I walked into this room twenty minutes ago, and though it may be best to throw in the towel for the night, I can’t find it in myself to do that. The more challenging a task is, the more I want to overcome it.
There’s a knock on the open door, and Nathan strides in with a six-pack. “You look like you’re doing some hard math.”
I smirk. “That’s one way to put it.”
“I’ll help you out. Two plus two is four.” Grinning with self-pleasure, he tosses me a beer.
“Nice.” I roll my eyes. “Who let this clown in here?”
“Eh, your team is all sitting in the bay watching the traffic go by. I slipped in completely unnoticed.”
Popping the beer can, I take a long sip. “Thanks for this.”
“I didn’t know if you’d still be here.” He settles into one of the plastic chairs around the table. “Isn’t your shift over?”
“Yeah, but I need to work on this.” I jerk my head at nowhere in particular.
“What about Hannah?”
The name releases a swarm of butterflies that flutter through my chest. “What about her?”
“I thought you might be with her. Or did it not go well at the fishing shack?”
I wouldn’t be able to stop my grin if I tried. “It went really well.”
“Oh?” He leans back and crosses his legs at the ankles. “Do tell.”
I rub the back of my neck, trying to collect my thoughts. But how can words express just how good it feels to be around her—how light, how carefree? Even when we’re talking about serious topics, it feels like a huge weight has been lifted from my shoulders and I’m free to just be myself for once.
“I’m falling for her,” I say, the words surprising even me. I’m not usually so forthcoming with my feelings.
Nathan slaps his knee. “Hell yeah. Now that’s what I want to hear.”
My phone rings, and I scramble to pull it from my pocket. Hannah?
But it’s Pat, who owns Pine Island’s hardware store.
“I’ve got to take this,” I mumble, hitting the answer button. “Hey, Pat. Is there something wrong with my order?”
“Hi there, Michael. Well, not exactly…” He trails off, and I frown. “I’m not sure about some of the fittings you want for the kitchen. The faucet you picked out won’t work, son.”
Closing my eyes, I hold back a groan. Is he being serious? “I’m sure it will work just fine. A faucet is a faucet. They all carry water.”
“Why aren’t you just going with the plans your dad made?”
There it is. The ole “Why aren’t you just like your dad?” Of course, people find a multitude of ways to say it, to let me know they wish my dad were still here and I was not—poorly, in everyone’s specific opinions—stepping into his shoes.
“Because I’m the one working on the kitchen now.” I grit my teeth, doing what I can to keep my temper in check. Pat was my dad’s closest friend, but trying to micromanage this kitchen renovation is not a healthy way to deal with grief.
I decide against suggesting he give therapy a whirl and wait until I’m sure my voice is even and calm. “Thank you for the input. I’ll give it some thought. For now, though, let’s go with the faucet I picked out.”
He grumbles some under his breath but at least says goodbye. Hanging up, I turn to Nathan.
“You know what would be nice?”
“What?” He slurps his beer.
“If everyone would stop second-guessing every decision I make that even slightly deviates from what my dad might have done. The man wasn’t perfect, but now that he’s gone, people are worshiping him.”
Nathan is quiet for a long moment. “Does any of your frustration have to do with what your dad said the last time you spoke?”
I physically recoil. “What?”
Nathan shrugs. “If you didn’t have a button to push, everyone putting their noses in your business wouldn’t be so hurtful. It would be easier to shrug it all off. Do you think a part of you believes you really aren’t doing a good enough job? Just like how your dad suggested you weren’t raising Katie right?”
I cross my arms. “He didn’t suggest it. He flat-out stated it.”
Damn Nathan. He’s too smart sometimes, and as much as I don’t want to admit it at this moment, he’s right.
“I think about that fight every day.” It was the last time we ever spoke, and of course I have regrets.
For months—even following my dad’s heart attack in the middle of a fiery house—I’ve resented him for basically telling me I was failing my daughter. I mean, seriously? Me?
I was the parent who stayed when her mother peaced out. I was the person who sat up with a colicky baby, who arranged my work schedule so I could pick her up from school every day, who passed over every opportunity at finding another relationship or pursuing anything in life that would make me less than fully available to her.
I gave up who I was for Katie, and I would do it again and again in a heartbeat. I live for that kid, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.
So, for someone—my own father, at that—to say that I fucked up…
I shake my head. “I moved her back here.”
“Because your dad wanted you to?”
My sigh is so heavy it hurts my ribs. “Because he was right. We were too isolated in Seattle.” I can at least separate the truth from personal offenses—sometimes.
“And she’s happy here. That’s what it looks like, anyway.”
“Yeah.” I chew that over. “But I sometimes think we swung too far in the other direction. It’s hard to get a moment alone here.”
The front doorbell rings, and I smirk. There’s my confirmation from the universe.
“Like so.”
“How do you know it’s not a real emergency?” Nathan chuckles.
“That’s what 9-1-1 is for.”
Leaving my beer on the table, I head out of the kitchen and to the front door to see who needs what now. When I open the door, though, my jaw loosens and my stomach bursts into fireworks. It’s an instant mood change.
Because Hannah is standing on the firehouse’s front steps.
Except it’s hard to tell if she’s coming or going. She’s half turned toward the street, her hands jammed into her jacket pockets.
“O-oh,” she stammers. “Hey—hi.”
“Hey.” The grin that pulls at my lips is as natural and expected as the rising sun. “You’re not leaving, are you?”
Her throat rolls with a swallow. “I thought that it might not be a good time.”
She glances at the open bay, where music blares from the speakers. We can’t see the crew in there, but no doubt they noticed her arrive and have a spy posted up somewhere, gathering information.
“It’s a great time,” I rush to say, afraid that if I’m not quick enough, she’ll turn tail and bound away like a spooked deer.
Her flightiness and anxiety don’t bother me, though. They make me more eager to be around her, to take care of her in whatever way she most needs at the moment.
“Come on in.” I hold the door open, and she cautiously enters.
“I’m here to register for the fundraiser. For the raffle.” She turns to me, and her floral scent tickles my nose, making my body react in a way that it never should while at work. “My friends and I would like to donate some scarves and hats that we’ve knit.”
“That’s amazing. Thank you.”
She shrugs. “It’s not much.”
“It’s perfect. I’ll get you the form to fill out.”
I don’t get a chance to move, because Nathan comes into the hallway. “Hey, Hannah. How’s it going?”
“Good. Thank you.” She shifts her weight, looking nervous. “How are you?”
“Busy. Just got a call about a roadside breakdown. They need a tow.” He claps me on the shoulder. “See you later.”
I’m not sold that he really did receive a call, but it doesn’t matter. He’s a good friend, giving Hannah and me some privacy yet again—especially since I was just griping about how I don’t get enough of it.
“Let’s go to the kitchen. We’ve been moving some things around, and the forms are in there while we organize the office.”
On the way, I grab the remote and turn down the speakers in the bay. In the kitchen, I click off the TV show Nathan put on. Hannah finally relaxes a little bit as some silence surrounds us, and I give myself a mental pat on the back. She clearly thrives in low-stimulation environments, and who could blame her? This firehouse is like a circus on the calmest days.
“Have a seat.” I pull a raffle registration form out of the filing cabinet and hand it to her along with a pen. “Can I get you a drink?”
“No, thanks.” She bends her head and quickly fills out the form—too quickly. I can’t have her leave yet, not when she only just got here. I know she has her knitting group to get back to, but, selfishly, I want to hang on to her as long as possible.
She looks around the kitchen. “I thought there would be more people here.”
“They’re in the bay or catching up on sleep in the bunks upstairs. It’s just you and me in this part.”
“Oh.” Her shoulders drop a little lower. “I thought the place would be full of people, and it freaked me out.”
“Why?” I blurt out, then hope that didn’t come across as insensitive.
“I’m not great with crowds of strangers.” She chuckles. “Or crowds, period. A few people in the store at one time I can handle, but any more than that is…a lot. It’s why I always skip the monthly town meetings.”
“I get that.” I blow out a breath.
Her eyes light up. “You don’t like crowds either?”
“Well…it’s fine when I don’t know the people.”
“Ah. I see.” She nods and hands me the paper.
“So, uh—” I clear my throat. “How was your day?”
“Good. My aunt is coming tomorrow for a visit. She’s going to help around the shop.”
“That’s great.” Unexpectedly, my heart races a little. Will I get to meet this aunt? I don’t know why, but it matters to me. I guess I really want to see this woman who’s been such an integral part of Hannah’s life.
And, what’s more, I want her to like me.
“Have you had dinner yet?” I ask, proud of myself for coming up with an excuse for her to stay. “We have a ton of leftover chili. I was about to heat some up.”
“Sure. That would be nice.” She grabs her phone from her jacket pocket. “I just need to tell Flick to lock up without me.”
While she texts, I pull out the chili, get it going on the stove, and serve Hannah one of the beers Nathan brought. Her presence is one simple adjustment, but it makes all the difference in the world. The room that only a few minutes ago was causing so much stress now feels like a sanctuary, a place where I can hide away with the woman I’m crazy about.
With my back turned to Hannah, I grin as I pour the chili into two bowls. Damn, that’s right. I’m totally crazy for her.
When was the last time I felt this way about a woman?
Was it…ever?
I certainly haven’t gotten romantically involved with anyone since Katie’s mom, and our relationship was more hot and cold than anything else. Before that, I was just a boy, jumping from girl to girl, never thinking beyond what the weekend held.
But now, I’m thinking into the future. Dreaming about what next month, next year, looks like with Hannah in my life. It’s not just taking care of Katie and running this firehouse—though I’m proud to do those things. It’s more.
Life with Hannah is something that’s just for me . A selfish bubble that I get to escape to every time we’re together.
“What are you smiling about?” she asks as I take the seat next to her.
“What’s not to smile about right now?”
She ducks her face, but it does nothing to hide her pleased grin. “Oh. I see.”
The conversation turns to catching up as we eat, though there’s little to catch up on. We’ve been texting almost nonstop, and it’s only our busy schedules that have stopped me from nailing down another date.
But here we are, paths crossed again. You’d almost think it was fate.
“I’ll get the dishes,” she says once we’re finished.
“No, I…”
Her hand has brushed mine, and suddenly, I’ve forgotten all English. We’re standing next to the table, only inches between us. It’s like the color intensity has been turned up on the world. I can see her every eyelash, track her every breath.
Putting down my bowl, I take a small step toward her.
Her gaze locks on mine, and the next thing I know, she’s between me and the wall, my arms on either side of her head. I’m moving like it’s the most natural thing in the world, water following to the sea, my lips dropping to hers.
Her soft mouth welcomes me, opening like petals on the sweetest rose. Heat unfurls from our tongues, and I deepen the kiss, sliding my hands through her hair and down her shoulders. She grips my t-shirt, twisting it in her palms. A primal hunger awakens in my belly, and I shuffle closer till she’s pinned against the wall.
Then someone loudly clears their throat.
Quick as a whip, I step back from Hannah, taking my grabby hands with me. Red and Meg, two of my firefighters, stand in the kitchen doorway.
“If you two are done,” Red says, “we’d love to get our dinner.”
Hannah blushes and presses her fingers to her lips.
“Go ahead.” I gesture to the fridge, then grab Hannah’s hand and lead her into the hallway. “I’m sorry,” I say the second we’re out of earshot.
Fuck, I’m such an idiot. She expressed how worried she was about people being around, and then I went and practically pawed her in a common area.
“It’s okay.” Her voice is breathy, and she presses so close that her hip bumps against my leg. “How much longer are you here for?”
My pulse quickens. “I can leave whenever. My shift is over.”
She bites her lip, already slightly swollen from kissing. “Would you like to come over to my house?”
The question sets off an earthquake that trembles through my bones. Is she asking what I think she is?
I haven’t been with a woman in a few years, though, of course, I’ve thought about what it would be like with Hannah—a lot.
“If you can,” she adds. “I know you have Katie?—”
“She’s at a sleepover tonight, so yes.” I find her hand. “I would love to come over.”
Her lashes flutter. “Perfect. We can walk there.”
“Perfect,” I echo.
But will it be? She’s just asked me to take our relationship to another level. What if I can’t adequately show up? What if tonight just proves that I’m not the man she wants or needs?
Then that’s it. End game for us.
“You okay?” she asks.
“Yeah.” Pulling myself together, I nod. “Perfect.”
That’s right. Maybe if I keep saying that word, the night will end up being exactly that.
Somehow.