Page 133 of The Goat Next Door

“We have been having this conversation a million times, Brooks,” she says, her voice strained. “I know you were scared. I figured that out about three minutes after coming home. But understanding why you locked me out doesn’t change the fact that you did it. You didn’t talk to me. You just decided my fate for me.”

“I know. I don’t expect you to just forget that because I sat on a bench.” I lean against the counter for a second and scrub a hand over my face. “I keep replaying it in my head. Every conversation. Every stupid thing I said. I really am sorry.”

The quiet between us stretches out, but it’s different now. Then, the corner of her mouth gives a tiny, involuntary twitch.

“You really did look ridiculous on that bench, you know,” she murmurs. “Theo looked like he was delivering a death warrant every morning. I thought he was going to faint into the sourdough on Tuesday.”

A small laugh leaves my throat, the tension in my chest easing just enough for me to breathe. “Theo is a good guy. He just takes orders literally. I told him to make sure you got the shift report.”

“The neighborhood relations act, Brooks?” She tilts her head, her curls shifting over her shoulder. “You looked up town bylaws just to find a reason to tell me what Sophie’s hair looked like?”

“I didn’t look it up. I made it up. I’m the Chief, Ember. I can invent a code if it means I get to talk to you.”

“That is a severe abuse of power, Brooks,” she whispers. “I should report you to the selectmen. Or Bernice. Bernice still has that ladle in her purse, I’m certain of it.”

“Let her hit me,” I say, my voice dropping an octave. “I’d take the ladle if it means I get to stay in this kitchen.”

She actually smiles then. A real one. Small, but real. It hits me right in the center of my chest.

“You are unbelievable,” she murmurs.

“I know.”

“You abused your position as fire chief to send me fake emotional support reports.”

“I’d do it again.”

She laughs under her breath and finally takes a sip of her tea. I watch her mouth touch the edge of the mug and immediately have to look away before my brain goes somewhere unhelpful.

This woman is going to kill me slowly.

“You’re a very stubborn man, Brooks,” she breathes, her voice shaking just a fraction.

“I am.”

I can feel my pulse everywhere. In my throat. My hands. My ribs. She’s looking at me like she’s waiting to see if I really mean all this or if I’m about to retreat again. And I can’t retreat anymore. I’m exhausted from holding myself back around her.

So I step closer. “I love you.”

Ember’s breath catches a little, and my eyes drop to her mouth before I can stop myself.

“Brooks,” she says.

“I know.”

“No, I don’t think you do.”

I stop moving. She sets the mug down.

“You can’t say things like this unless you mean them tomorrow too.”

“I will.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Yes, I do.”

The words come out instantly. Certain.