But with Jackson, things were different. Marcus would never be friends with someone who wasn’t a good person. I trusted my brother. As a result, I already trusted Jackson.
Was Mya right? Was it time to push past the fear and let myselfseehim, not just as Marcus’s friend or the neighbor I barely spoke to, but as someone worth knowing?
The house was quiet, and the only sound was the hum of the refrigerator and the steady tick of the clock. I glanced out the window, the soft glow from Jackson’s living room spilling into the night.
My heart fluttered as I considered the possibilities. Maybe it was time to stop letting the past hold me prisoner.
Maybe Mya was right.
Chapter Three
Jackson
“Thank you, Mr. Fireman!”
The high-pitched chorus of preschoolers’ voices shouting in unison echoed in the open courtyard of Oakridge Preschool.
The sun shone bright and warm, casting playful shadows across the red brick building and the stretch of trimmed grass that bordered it.
I couldn’t help but smile at their wide-eyed excitement, the kind of joy that made my job worthwhile. A soft breeze carried the scent of chalk and the faint, sweet aroma of a nearby flowerbed.
“Thank you for letting me come to your school!” I called out, my voice booming with the practiced confidence of someone who spoke to eager little ears often.
I stood in front of the gleaming fire truck, its polished red surface reflecting the midday light and the waving hands of my two buddies who flanked me.
We’d set up a display of gear beside the truck: the heavy helmet, fireproof gloves, and hose reel glistened under the sun, ready for curious, tiny hands.
Greg and Bill played their parts like seasoned presenters, showcasing the equipment with exaggerated gestures and grins that made them look like game show hosts.
“Firemen are superheroes!” a little boy shouted, bouncing on the balls of his feet. Laughter rippled through the group of parents standing nearby, their cameras poised for snapshots.
Before the teacher could rally her students, Alana, Savannah’s daughter, spotted me. Her eyes lit up as she detached from the line and ran across the grass, her pigtails bobbing.
The sight made my heart twist in a way I hadn’t expected. I scanned the crowd instinctively, searching for Savannah. My pulse quickened when I didn’t see her immediately.
The teacher’s sing-song voice called after her, “Alana, what are you doing? You can’t run to strangers like that, honey.”
“I say hi to Mr. Fireman!” Alana chirped over her shoulder before leaping into my outstretched arms. I knelt down, my knee pressing into the soft grass, and caught her easily.
“He’s my friend,” she added, turning back to give her teacher a wide, gap-toothed grin.
The teacher’s eyes widened, relief evident on her face. “I see she does know you. She’s not usually this open with others,” she said, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear as if to compose herself.
I felt a warmth spread in my chest as I stood, lifting Alana with me. “We’re good friends, aren’t we, Alana?” I said, bouncing her slightly until she giggled, the sound like a melody that brought smiles to the parents around us.
She nodded, her small fingers toying with the edge of my uniform. “Jackson,” she declared, pointing at me as if the teacher needed confirmation.
I laughed, glancing down at her bright eyes. “Have you been good today?” I asked, leaning in conspiratorially.
“Yes!” Alana shouted, her whole body tilting with the enthusiasm of her response. The grass rustled as her classmates shifted, their attention wavering.
“She’s usually shy,” the teacher murmured, her voice more to herself than to anyone. I nodded, understanding more than I let on.
Alana's bright spirit reminded me of Savannah’s eyes—always holding a quiet, hidden strength.
The sun was warm against my neck as Alana beamed up at me. The golden light glanced off the fire truck, casting a glow that wrapped around us. It was moments like this that made the sweat, soot, and long nights worth it.
“Did you like learning about the Fire Department today?”
