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“It is. Have you ever tasted the chief’s wife’s bread? It is dangerously addictive. Way too good, especially when she pairs it with her chili con carne,” Eric replies. “I swear I will absolutely bawl like a baby when he retires.”
The fragrance of the food envelops me as soon as we step into the dining area. The table is already laid out with plenty of bowls and plates from which to serve ourselves. It’s a true feast, with chili and bread, Wyatt’s “everything salad,” and three different types of pasta dishes from the other firefighters. One of them used seafood in their recipe. It makes my stomach turn inside out but I keep my game face on and take my seat at the table.
Chase and Wyatt are already seated. The others are still gathering from different parts of the firehouse while the chief is almost done sprucing up his wife’s signature guacamole. Jokingly, Wyatt picks up the bowl of nacho chips to inspect it.
“Seriously, Chief? Store bought?” he quips, making us giggle.
Holt smiles, eyes on the guac as he stirs in the lemon juice. “Beggars can’t be choosers, son,” he says. “Alright, we’re almost ready to dig in.”
The sound of heels clicking up the metal stairs has us stopping and turning to see who decided to interrupt a decent, quiet lunch in a place that doesn’t get much quiet to begin with. I hear myself gasping as soon as she reaches the top.
“Harriet,” I whisper, the blood freezing in my veins.
She hasn’t aged a day, this viper of a woman. Her brown hair shows streaks of silver, pulled into a tight and classy bun at the back of her head. Her camel-brown pantsuit and mocha heels convey her strength and dominant persona. She’s not here for a pleasant visit, that much is obvious. Two gentlemen in grey suits followed her up the stairs. Lawyers, by the looks of them.
“There you are,” Harriet says, smiling coldly as soon as she sees me. “It took me a while to find you, Helena, but I’m glad I did.”
“What the hell are you doing here?” I blurt out, almost jumping out of my seat.
Instinctively, Eric’s hand covers mine under the table but his gaze is fixed on the newcomers, coldness turning his otherwise soft blues into soul-crushing ice.
“You’ve been impossible to reach,” Harriet says, her eyes darting all around, measuring, checking, memorizing every face and name tag in sight.
Chief Holt sets the guacamole aside and walks over to greet her and her lawyers. “Excuse me, what is this about?”
“It’s a family matter,” Harriet replies. “It doesn’t concern you.”
“You’re in my firehouse, it does concern me.”
One of the suits takes out an envelope from his briefcase and tries to deliver it directly to me, but Chase intervenes, taking the envelope from him with a menacing glare that clearly makes him uncomfortable. “It’s for Mrs. Nash,” the lawyer tries to protest.
“Former Mrs. Nash,” I reply. “What is that?”
“I’m suing for custody of the children,” Harriet says.
It shouldn’t come as a shock. Harriet was always about keeping the kids in her family, regardless of how Colby and I got along. More than once, she told me that I was free to leave at any time, provided I left Sammy and Luna behind.
The answer was always a flat “no” every time she brought it up. In hindsight, I think Harriet would’ve been happier if I’d done precisely that, instead of sticking around and putting up with her abusive son.
Her presence alone is enough to make my blood boil but knowing what’s inside of that envelope only serves to exacerbate my state, pushing me past my limits. My throat burns. The earlier sensation of nausea returns with a vengeance while I try to keep my wits about me.
“I’ll take this,” Chase says, claiming the envelope.
Eric stays by my side, his physical proximity doing little to stop me from collapsing inward. Wyatt, however, moves slowly around the table, his green eyes never leaving Harriet and her lawyers. Chief Holt frowns, his gaze bouncing between my former mother-in-law and me.
“You will never get custody of my children,” I tell Harriet. “And the audacity you have to even think you might pull something like this off is unbelievable.”
“Oh, look at that, the kitty has finally grown some claws. Isn’t that sweet,” she laughs maliciously, as if I’m the most adorable little fiend that she has ever come across. “One can tell that Colby hasn’t been around to set you straight.”
“You mean he hasn’t been around to deliver his daily dose of emotional abuse, belittling, and gaslighting,” I reply. “I presume it’s how you raised him.”
Helen gives me a hard look. “My son is a good and honorable man. It’s not his fault you couldn’t be a suitable wife to him.”
“Mrs. Nash, you’ve delivered your envelope,” Eric cuts in. “What are you still doing here? And furthermore, how did you track Halle here?”
“Halle? Is that what you told them to call you, Helena?” Harriet keeps her sights on me, watching me like a hawk.
Heat bursts through my chest, but I keep my chin high, determined not to let her get to me this time around. “I’ve always gone by Halle. You and your psycho son are the ones who insisted on calling me by my full name,” I say, then point at the envelope. “Like Eric said, you’ve accomplished what you came here for by delivering the envelope. Please, leave.”
