Page 94 of Falling for the Grinchy Bad Boy

It was the best outcome for a call like this. Despite what Lynn had done to me, I didn’t bear any grudges against her parents and I certainly didn’t want to see them hurt.

I climbed into my usual seat and glanced out the window. Mrs. Ziegler was on the phone, waving her hands. Being back at the Ziegler ranch, seeing the house where I’d spent so many Sunday dinners and holiday gatherings, where I asked Lynn’s father for permission to marry his daughter, stirred up memories I thought I had successfully buried.

The irony wasn’t lost on me. I’d come here to put out a fire, but being in this place again felt like walking through the ashes of my own burned-down dreams.

“You okay?” Matt asked as we drove back toward town, the siren silent now that the emergency was over.

“Yeah,” I said, and was surprised to realize it was mostly true. “Just weird being back there. I haven’t seen those two in forever.”

“For what it’s worth, you handled it like a professional. No one would have known you had any personal connection to the place.”

I snorted. One of my biggest fears had always been that my personal feelings would interfere with my ability to do my job effectively. Tonight proved that wasn’t the case.

My phone buzzed with a text message as we pulled into the station.

Joy: Are you okay? How bad was it?

I found myself smiling as I typed back. I’m fine. Small fire, no injuries, everything under control.

Her response came immediately. Is your shift over?

Me: Ten minutes ago.

Are you going home?

Me: Yep.

Can I come over? I need to see you.

Me: I’m filthy.

I looked down at my gear and clothes, which were indeed covered in soot and debris. I need to clean up first.

I don’t care. I need to see that you’re really okay.

The urgency in her message was a surprise. Joy needed to see me, needed the physical confirmation that I was safe and whole. When was the last time someone had worried about me like that?

Give me twenty minutes to get home and shower, I texted back. Then come over.

On my way.

As I gathered my gear and prepared to head home, I found myself thinking about the contrast between tonight and all those other nights when I went home from calls to an empty house. There was no one waiting to make sure I was okay. No one needed to touch base and confirm that I had made it through another emergency unscathed.

Joy worried about me. Joy kissed me for luck and waited to hear that I was safe.

The realization hit me as I drove home through the quiet streets. This was what it felt like to matter to someone. This was what it felt like to have someone whose day was affected by whether or not I came home in one piece.

It was terrifying and wonderful and completely different from anything I had experienced before. Lynn never cared. I used to text her after a shift or a rough call but stopped when I realized she didn’t give two shits. She made me feel like I was bothering her. So, I stopped.

Joy understood that every call could be dangerous and coming home safe wasn’t guaranteed.

She understood, and she cared enough to need confirmation that I was okay.

I was still processing that revelation when I pulled into my driveway and saw Joy’s car already waiting for me.