“Sure he is ,” I responded, nodding. “That’s why I'm giving you the job.”
She smirked. “You’re blushing, you know,?”
I glanced at my reflection in the nearby window, catching the slight pink hue on my cheeks. “I’m not blushing. It’s warm in here,” I muttered, fanning myself.
“Uh-huh. Sure. You still haven’t talked to him, have you?
I didn’t know what to tell her. I shook my head. “Not really. Not to any extent.”
“You’ve got to be brave, Savvy. You can’t keep hiding behind your editing desk forever.”
“Bravery?” I echoed, the word sounding foreign and bittersweet. Memories of another time, another man, surged briefly—Roger’s face, the last time I saw him before prison bars separated us. The pain I’d buried stirred, but I pushed it back down where it belonged. “I don’t think ‘bravery’ is the right word for this.”
Mya leaned forward, eyes softening. “Look, you’re a smart, accomplished independent woman, raising Alana all on yourown. If there’s anyone who embodies strength and resilient, it’s you.”
I bit my lip, her words resonating deeper than I wanted to admit. “We’ll see,” I said, standing. “Thanks for taking this on.”
“Anytime,” she said, but just as I turned to leave, she called out, “Get to know him, Savvy. You might be surprised.”
I walked back to my office, Mya’s words lingering in the air like an unsaid promise. Back at my desk, I opened the article again, skimming over Jackson’s feats—there were three different occasions in one month where He had exhibited extreme bravery.
Saving a family from a house fire, rescuing stranded teenagers on a lake, and even containing a rogue bear that wandered into town. Each act seemed larger than life, painting a picture of a man whose courage stretched beyond the ordinary.
I was fascinated by the fact that only the first event seemed to fall within the typical scope of a firefighter, while the other two demonstrated his willingness to help others no matter what.
I leaned back, eyes drifting to the window that looked out over Main Street, where kids laughed, and neighbors greeted each other with small-town familiarity. How had I missed so much about the man next door?
The fleeting encounters we’d shared seemed trivial now. There were brief nods at the mailbox, a polite smile at the grocery store. It was strange, realizing that the man whose name was splashed across my screen as a local hero, the same one who sometimes helped me shovel snow off my walk without a word.
Enough,I shut my laptop, frustration bubbling up. This was ridiculous. I was being ridiculous.
Shaking my head and sitting forward, dropping my eyes to various papers on my desk, spread out so I could see what was on the surface of each.
I had been doing some research on another article and still had several documents open on my laptop as well as actual paperback books on the subject of guns and pistols.
You have work to do.I moved the mouse, hovered the cursor over the x button and finally clicked, closing out the article and vowing not to give Jackson, or his commendation, another thought. It wouldn’t be easy but it was necessary.
I realized what I was doing and dove headfirst into the rest of the work I had to do. The research made it easier to distract my mind and eventually I was looking at the clock at the end of the day. The rest of the day had flown by. I had stuck to my resolve.
As I left the Office, I gave myself permission to indulge my thoughts in Jackson! I had to go to the day care and get Alana, stop at the store for some groceries and head home.
As I drove home, Alana’s chatter from the back seat fading into the background, my mind wandered back to Jackson.
He was more than a friendly neighbor. He was brave, selfless, and far more than just a face that haunted idle thoughts. And I had been oblivious to it all!
Dinner came and went in a blur of spaghetti and laughter, Alana’s giggles pulling me back into the present. Later, as I read her bedtime story, I caught myself wondering if Jackson had someone waiting for him the way Alana waited for me to tuck her in each night.
The thought lingered, warm and persistent, even as I settled into my own chair with a book I barely read.
Should I take Mya’s advice?
Was I ready for another relationship?
She did know me. My heartbeat sped up a little when I thought about him. He’s always seemed so friendly, recollecting. I hadn’t thought about Roger in a long time. In the three years he’d been in jail, I hadn’t bothered to date.
Alana was all I needed. She was the best thing that had ever happened to me and I wasn’t about to put her in jeopardy by bringing a strange man around her. And what would it do to her if some strange man did something bad to me and took me away from her?
It wasn’t worth it.
