Motherhood is the daily practice of setting yourself asidefor another person—even if they don’t notice your sacrifice until way later in life—or ever.
I raise a pointer finger to Greyson, pick up my cell and shoot my mom a text.
Hallie: I love you. Hope you have a nice day.
I pocket my phone and hop out of the van.
Greyson exits his Jeep simultaneously. He’s so busted.
He takes one look at my face and his brow furrows with concern. “Everything okay?”
“Always the protector,” I muse.
“That’s not an answer,” he retorts.
“It’s okay. Yes. I’m okay. Thanks for checking.”
He nods. Back to stoic, only he’s not shut off like he was when I first arrived in Waterford. We pulled back another layer in the station kitchen the other night. I’d pull back all the layers with him. I’ve never been so drawn to another person in my life. When he’s right here in front of me, with his morning face, freshly shaved, his eyes still telling of sleep, soft and focused on me, I forget everything but him.
And that’s what makes him dangerous.
I step toward the station. “How was your day off?”
“Good.” He matches my stride. “You?”
“I just puttered around the house and then I met my sister for lunch. After that, I spent as much time with Mia as I could until bedtime.”
He smiles. I give him a smile in return. I could tell him everything. But we don’t have time. We’re about to round the corner and then we’ll be surrounded by the other firefighters. This isn’t the time or place.
Today is the day I hand Mia over to her dad. I look up into Greyson’s eyes, my hand on the handle of the kitchen door.
He raises his hand as if he’s going to touch me—to comfort me—but then he pulls back, running his fingers through his hair. His eyes hold mine.
“You can tell me later,” he says softly.
My eyes burn with unshed tears. Those five simple words practically undo me.
This time, I’m the one giving a curt nod and steeling myself to perform past the emotions.
The kitchen is filled with the usual sound of too many voices in simultaneous conversations—some work related, others catching up on life. Cody calls the shift change meeting to order and the day begins. We run through equipment checks and then a workout routine. I’m immersed in the moments, avoiding life outside the station by throwing myself into whatever’s at hand. Bench presses, dead lifts, squats all channel my anxiety over sending Mia on this trip and my renewed frustration at Danny for his sporadic involvement in her life.
A few hours after lunch, I step into Cody’s office, shutting the door behind me. I didn’t tell him Mia was going with her dad. I just said I had to be somewhere for my daughter today. I’m just popping in to remind him before I take off.
“I’m going to head out to see my daughter.”
He nods. “Take all the time you need.”
“I’ll be back in just over an hour.”
“Hallie?” Cody stares at me with a warm smile on his face. “Before you got here, we were running on a short crew for nine months—ever since I took the position as captain. You’re an asset. You’ve already proved that. But we can handle things while you spend time with your daughter. Motherhood matters.”
A small lump forms in my throat. I swallow past it and say, “Okay.” Then I add, “But I’ll still try to be back within an hour.”
“Or two,” Cody adds with a smile. “I have a mom, you know.”
“I imagine you do.” I chuckle softly.
“She was always around on the ranch—still is.”
