Page 24 of Not How I Saw That Going

“I can’t believe I have to do this,” I admit after I finally find my purse under a pile of potentially clean laundry.

I put away two loads last night, so where did this one come from?

“It’s only for a couple weeks.” Maddie reminds me while measuring out a serving size of oatmeal for either Crew or herself. It barely looks like enough to feed a hamster. “Oh, don’t forget about your hair appointment after.”

Sometimes it’s hard to remember who’s the mother in this equation.

“Are you sure you’re good to watch Crew for five hours?” I’ve never left him for that long during the day. He’s much easier to keep track of when he’s asleep.

“Yes!” Maddie says. “I’ve got a fun day planned for us, so if you want to get your nails done too while you’re out, go for it.”

The thought is nice, but getting my hair done is already going to set me back moneywise for a few weeks.

“Thanks, Maddie.” I know what she really needs to be doing is studying for the final exams she has coming up soon, but somehow, she always carves out time for me and Crew. She’s more family than mine has ever been. “I owe you one.”

“You can thank me by bringing Mr. October home for me,” she jokes as she fixes her straight black ponytail. At least I think she’s teasing.

“I’ll do my best.” I kiss the top of Crew’s head, and he responds by wiping his hair off with the hand that has yogurt on it.

“Crew,” Maddie whines.

“Have fun!” I say sweetly.

“I want Mr. April too!” Maddie hollers back.

I spend my fifteen-minute drive wondering if Ward will be at the fire station today, then trying to decide if Iwantto see him there.

He won’t be working. There’s no way I’d run into him every time I’m scheduled to clean. Inconvenient situations like that only occur in rom-coms. If my life is a story, it’s solidly in the women’s nonfiction category.Real-life stories from a destitute and forgotten single mother. What not to do to end up like me.

I park behind the station and walk around front, not sure where my place is yet.

“Hey, look who it is,” Caleb greets me inside the station.

“Hi.” I return his full grin. “Can you tell me what I’m supposed to be doing?”

“The chief left a list for you. I was instructed to show you around but not let you near the brute.” He raises his eyebrows. “Whatever that means.”

I bite back a smile. “I believe he’s talking about Ward.”

Caleb purses his lips. “Yeah, that makes more sense. He’s in a particularly bad mood today, so stick with me.”

He leads me through the station, showing me the bunk room, which needs clean sheets, the locker rooms that could use a good scrub down, and the cleaning closet which is my new best friend.

We end our grand tour near the main entrance, next to the collage of pictures on the wall. There are kids sitting on fire engines, off-duty firemen serving in the community, and firefighters emerging triumphantly from burning buildings. I inch closer to get a better look at Ward carrying an older man to safety. I’m struck by the fierce determination in his eyes, the promise that he won’t rest until everyone is safe.

“What’s his story anyway?” I ask Caleb, nodding at Ward’s picture. I’ve seen two very different sides of him, and each one contradicts the other.

“Ah, he’s got a rough exterior, but he’s a good guy. The best, actually. Loyal and honorable to a fault,” Caleb says, rubbing a spot on his shoulder. “But the military has a way of changing a person. I’m worried it killed his heart.”

My pulse slows. The military. The tattoos. Something must have happened to Ward when he was over there. I certainly can’t judge him for something I know nothing about. Heaven knows I don’t want anyone judging me based on my past.

Caleb sets me free to do my job, and I glance back at the wall of photos one more time to ensure Mr. October isn’t listed up there somewhere.

Sorry, Mads. I tried.

The whole time I scrub toilets, I think about the man who went through war, literally, and wonder what could have happened over there to change him. My brain has no trouble coming up with endless scenarios, each one more depressing than the last. I wonder what Ward was like before? Was he outgoing, happy, carefree? Something about his permanently clenched jaw tells me he isn’t a naturally bubbly person. The war took his harder edge and turned it to titanium.

My phone alarm rings, warning me that I have five minutes until I need to leave for my hair appointment.