Page 1 of Stuck with the Hero Next Door

Chapter 1

Goodbye, City Lights

Cassie

The city didn't wave goodbye. Not that I expected it to.

I squinted at the fading skyline, city lights smudging against the windshield. Every exit sign felt like a test, but I kept driving. North. East. To a place Mom loved, a principal who only marginally liked me, and a job posting that required both passion and a teaching license.

"Miller's Pass, here we come," I muttered. "Try not to mess this up."

It was supposed to be a soft landing: a sensible job, a small town, a steady paycheck. Maybe a grocery store where they remembered your name. The kind of thing Mom used to dream about, grading papers, pencil in her hair, and cold tea at her elbow.

I didn't know if it was her dream anymore or mine. Probably both. Or maybe just a panic plan with a decent benefits package. And it wasn't like I had anything else on my agenda.

The truck heater hiccupped, wheezing out a breath of warmish air. I thumped it with the side of my hand. "Not today, Carl." I'd named the truck Carl in college. Don't ask.

I glanced at the passenger seat. The job listing was still printed and neatly highlighted—because I am nothing if not a color-coded optimist—and tucked beside it was Mom's scarf. It had tiny stars stitched on, making it look like she wore the night sky for parent-teacher conferences, as if a touch of the cosmos gave her extra poise.

"I'll figure it out," I whispered, curling my fingers around the steering wheel. "I can do this."

Carl chose that exact moment to whine like a wounded animal. The engine stuttered. My heart did, too.

"Don't you dare."

We limped onto the shoulder just as the engine gave out one last cough and died. I coasted to a stop and stared at the forest around me: green shrubs, a single sun-bleached fence post, and a deer crossing the road in a way that made it look like it was performing in a drama.

Fantastic.

I leaned my forehead against the wheel. "So much for a graceful debut."

I wasn't even to Miller's Pass, just between nowhere and lost, parked by a road with no cell service. Mom would've called it 'character building' and laughed—like when her chili exploded, so we ate frozen pizza for the third night.

I smiled despite myself.

And then came the headlights. A tow truck rounded the bend, as if summoned by sarcasm and desperation. My fingers tightened around the wheel again. Not part of the plan. But then again, maybe this plan needed a plot twist.

The tow truck's brakes gave a long, mournful sigh as it slowed behind me, like even it wasn't thrilled to be out this far.

I sat up straighter, smoothed the front of my cardigan, and tried to remember if I'd brushed my hair today. The rearview mirror wasn't generous—windblown curls, a pale face, and the expression of someone trying to pretend a total life detour was "spontaneous" and "adventurous."

A man stepped down from the cab. Tall. Flannel. Boots that looked like they'd actually done work. His shirt had a patch—Tim—and it was as oil-smudged as his jeans. He walked toward me like a guy who fixed problems or at least didn't panic when they fell apart.

"You alright?" he called, voice friendly, not too curious.

I opened the door and tried to channel calm. "Just my truck deciding to stage a protest in the middle of nowhere."

He gave a low chuckle. "Sounds like you could use my help."

That coaxed a smile. "I was on my way to Miller's Pass. Job posting. High school English teacher."

Now it was out in the open: not just some mystery woman on the roadside, but one with a busted plan and a tote full of laminated lesson outlines.

Tim nodded, thoughtful. "That's a good town. Pretty drive. Except, y'know, when you don't make it." He held out his hand. “The name’s Tim.”

"Minor detail." I took his hand. “Cassie.”

He popped the hood and leaned in. A few mechanical groans later, he let out a low whistle.