Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 75656 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75656 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
“About that …” I say now, not sure how much I should tell her, but feeling the need to process the things I found out last night with someone.
“You did see those hunky firemen,” she says. “I can see it in your eyes—but what’s wrong?”
I’m sure my expression must be complicated, because my feelings definitely are.
“I talked to the fire marshal yesterday and found out he and two of the other firefighters were on my husband’s SEAL team. Buck, the marshal, was actually in charge of Tyler’s unit.”
Kira freezes, with mouth open and brows lifted.
“Buck used to tell Tyler about how nice this area is, and Tyler talked about us moving to the mountains someday, which is how I ended up here.”
“That’s wild,” Kira says. “Atlas told me a few of the firefighters had been SEALs, but I’d have never imagined they knew your husband.”
“They not only knew him, they fought beside him. They probably knew Tyler as well as I did.”
Kira blinks, taking this in. “How do you feel about it? I know you moved up here for a change of pace.”
“I’m not sure what to think.”
Kira’s watching me closely. She doesn’t push. She takes a sip of her drink and stays quiet, encouraging me to talk.
“They’re … not hard to look at, all three of them, and that’s a problem.”
My friend frowns at this. “Why is it a problem?”
“I shouldn’t be interested in men who were close to Tyler … and I can’t afford to be attracted to men who run toward danger.”
Kira tilts her head, smiling sympathetically. “Loving dangerous men doesn’t always end in tragedy,” she says softly. Her hand is resting on her rounded belly, and I find myself smiling back at her.
She’s living with three former Marines who would, and nearly did, give their lives for her. She understands.
But my situation is different. “Being attracted to them feels like betraying Tyler’s memory.”
Still watching me closely, she says, “Do you think Tyler would have seen it that way?”
I shrug as I consider her question. Even if Tyler had time to prepare for his death, I can’t imagine he’d have thought about me being involved with men he knew.
“If you don’t mind me offering advice, I think you should stay open,” she says. “Even if nothing romantic develops, T.J. might like to talk to men who knew his father well. He might like to hear stories they have. I was young when my mom passed, and I was always grateful to meet people who knew her.”
“I didn’t know about your mom. I’m sorry,” I say, “That’s a good point. Thank you.”
The lunch bell rings, bringing me out of our heavy conversation and back to the present moment. “I’m sorry to have to cut this short. I need to go soon.”
“No problem,” Kira says. “I’m glad you could spare a few minutes.”
Before she leaves, she pulls me into a hug. “You deserve to be happy, Elena. Maybe it doesn’t seem like a priority when you have a child, but it should be.”
CHAPTER 5
ELENA
When I get to the cafeteria for lunch duty, a navy blue shirt draws my eye like a magnet.
Weston Monroe is standing near the other set of doors, an easy smile on his face, and that damned fire department shirt stretched across his strong, broad shoulders like it's clinging for dear life.
Not here, not at work, I tell myself.
I remember Weston most of all from things Tyler talked about. He was the team’s medic, fondly called Patch. From the stories Tyler was able to share, I got the idea that Weston was the most light-hearted of the team, not that it’s a word you can really apply to a Navy SEAL. He was the one who lifted the group’s mood, despite the tough things he must have dealt with during missions.
What’s he doing here?
If there’d been an emergency, I’d have been notified, and there are no safety programs scheduled, but he’s standing there like his presence is normal, as if he’s here every day for lunch duty. When he meets my eyes, he tips his head in greeting, still smiling.
A disloyal zing of electricity traces across my skin as I take in the man’s tall frame, his thick dark hair and even thicker biceps, and the way he commands the space around him even while standing at ease.
“Hi, Mom.” T.J. gives me a quick wave as he files past in line with his class.
As I’m waving back, a teacher approaches to let me know she needs class coverage this afternoon during an IEP meeting. While I’m making a note, two kids in the line behind T.J.’s class start pushing each other, and I step in to break it up.
My gaze unintentionally returns to Weston after all the activity. He’s casually scanning the room and waving to kids who say hello to him. They either recognize him from fire safety week, or they’re just excited to have a fireman at the school. To the shyer kids, his size and uniform may seem imposing; to others, he’s a rock star.