“We’re going to be okay, honey,” I whispered into the stillness. “I’ll take care of us. I promise.”
I checked the time—six in the morning. Roger had planned this, calling at a time he knew I’d be half-asleep, vulnerable.
By the time dawn broke, bathing the room in harsh light, I’d made my decision. Staying here, in this place haunted by broken promises and shattered trust, wasn’t an option.
Divorce was the only course to go now. I didn’t need that man.
I wasn’t able to go back to sleep, so I got up, showered and got ready for work. I stopped at a cafe and ate breakfast, trying not to think about the situation I was in. I was sure the cops would want to talk to me at some point and just the thought of that made my heart thump nervously. I was afraid Roger would implicate me in whatever theft he had committed.
I spent a good while that morning talking to Mya, my bestie at work, and she did know a lawyer. It was the same one she’d used. In fact, she called and made me an appointment.
At lunchtime, Mya sat across from me, squeezed my hand, her expression fierce.
“You’re doing the right thing, Savvy,” she said, using her nickname for me. Her voice was gentle but sure. “You’re stronger than you think.”
A fragile smile tugged at my lips. I had to believe that. With three months left until my baby arrived, I needed a fresh start.
The answer came from an unexpected place—a conversation with my brother Marcus months ago about a small town near Lake Tahoe. It sounded like a haven, a place where I could rebuild and protect what mattered most.
We’re going to be okay, I thought, and this time, the words felt less like a plea and more like a promise.
Chapter One
Jackson
“Want another root beer?” I glanced at my best friend, Marcus, as I stood up. The late afternoon sun painted warm streaks across my porch. “I’m grabbing one more for myself. There’s some cola if you’d prefer.”
“No, I’m good,” Marcus said, leaning back with a contented sigh and propping his legs on the glass table. He smirked, eyes twinkling. “I should probably think about heading home soon anyway.”
I nodded, understanding the pull of home even if it was an hour’s drive away. Sundays were sacred—my only full day off from the station—and catching up with Marcus was a tradition I held tightly to. It was our way of preserving a bond forged during long nights of college study sessions and reckless weekend adventures.
Inside, the cool embrace of air conditioning enveloped me as I grabbed a fresh root beer and a bag of chips. The contrast made the heat outside feel sharper when I returned, but I likedthat edge, that reminder of the mountains surrounding Hidden Pines.
The golden glow of late afternoon painted long, warm shadows across the yard, a serene reminder of the simplicity he had come to love. The hum of cicadas and the distant rustle of leaves added texture to the quiet, the kind of peace that felt rare and precious.
“Thanks for today, man,” I said, reclaiming my chair. “That hike was just what I needed. I’m glad you suggested it. I can’t believe three years slipped by without me going up Ridge Top Trail.”
Marcus snorted, eyes narrowing as he surveyed the quiet street. “Yeah, well, I could tell you needed a change of scenery. That trail’s a beast, and you love a good challenge.”
“Always have.” I popped the can and took a long, satisfying sip, the fizz stinging just right. Marcus always teased me about my root beer addiction, calling it my ‘childish vice.’ He preferred black coffee, which I claimed only true cynics drank unadulterated.
He watched the lazy sway of tree branches, then turned to me with a smirk. “You know, sometimes it still shocks me you ended up in firefighting. Mr. Human Calculator.”
I laughed, tipping the can at him. “Yeah, well, you thought I’d be teaching calculus and writing textbooks.”
“Can you blame me? By senior year, you practically had a monopoly on tutoring. I don’t think the campus tutoring center ever forgave you for siphoning half their clients.”
I’ve traded my passion of math for this—quiet moments punctuated by the rush of a siren, the fierce embrace of flames, and the satisfaction of saving lives.
It was a fair trade, or so I told myself. I glanced at the firehouse emblem tattooed on my forearm, the symbol of a choice that defined me.
I had been working as a firefighter for ten years and I loved every moment of it. I also loved living in Hidden Pines, which was nestled in the mountains around Lake Tahoe.
Although living in the mountains sometimes made my job very dangerous, I would not change my career or my life for anything. The ever-present scent of pine and the crisp mountain air were as much a part of me as the sound of a fire truck's siren.
Marcus looked down for a moment, and when he spoke again, there was a note of wistfulness. “Funny how life shakes out. Now I’m the one teaching math, thanks to that bonus I couldn’t resist.”
“Life is full of curveballs,” I said, my tone gentler.
