Eight
1703 Words
Emma:
Pain woke me before the light did.
A deep, throbbing ache behind my cheekbone. A sharp tug in my ribs every time I breathed. A pounding, heavy pressure in my skull that made the world tilt.
For a moment, I didn’t remember where I was.
Then something warm shifted against me.
Avery.
Her tiny body was curled into my chest, arms wrapped around me like she’d been afraid I’d disappear in the night. Her cheek rested over my heartbeat, her small breaths puffing softly against my bruised ribs.
She must’ve climbed onto the cot sometime after I’d finally fallen asleep.
I smoothed a hand over her hair, wincing when the movement pulled something deep in my shoulder.
Everything hurt.
But she was safe.
Alive.
Breathing.
And nothing else mattered.
Silence filled the firehouse… except—
Voices.
Low. Harsh. Sharp enough to slice through the air.
I turned my head, careful not to jostle Avery, and listened.
“…not fit to raise a child—”
A man’s voice. Older. Tight with anger.
“Kaden, she needs stability.”
A woman this time. Controlled, but condescending in a way that made my stomach twist.
“I am her stability,” Kaden snapped back, hushed but fierce. “I always have been.”
Avery’s grandparents.
My pulse picked up.
I shifted slowly, easing out from under Avery’s arm. She mumbled in her sleep but didn’t wake. Once she was settled safely against the pillow, I slid to my feet.
My legs buckled.
I caught myself on the edge of the bed, biting back a cry as pain shot through my side.
Breathe.
Stand.
Move.
The voices grew louder.
“You don’t even have a home of your own,” the grandmother hissed. “A child needs a woman in her life. Consistency. A real family.”
“I don’t need a woman to raise my daughter,” Kaden answered sharply. “And I don’t need your approval to love her.”
“You’re barely getting by,” the grandfather shot back. “Avery deserves better.”
“She deserves safety,” Kaden growled. “After last night, after what she saw— you think uprooting her again is going to help?”
Silence.
Thick.
Tense.
I moved down the hallway, leaning heavily on the wall. Each step burned, but I kept going. Because I knew what was happening in that room.
They were trying to take Avery.
Trying to take the only good thing in Kaden’s life.
Trying to take the little girl who had run into my arms last night, trusting me without question.
I wouldn’t let that happen.
When I reached the doorway, I saw them—an impeccably dressed couple in their sixties, standing rigidly across from Kaden. He looked exhausted, tense, still in last night’s clothes, hair mussed like he’d run his hands through it a hundred times.
His eyes were red.
Not from crying—he wasn’t the type.
From fury.
From fear.
From the thought of losing Avery.
“I’m doing the best I can,” Kaden said, voice raw. “And it’s enough.”
“You can’t raise her alone,” the grandmother retorted.
“He is not alone,” I said softly.
Every head snapped toward me.
Kaden’s eyes widened in shock, panic flickering across his face when he saw me standing—bruised, swollen, barely upright.
“Emma— you should be resting.”
Maybe I should’ve been.
But I couldn’t let him stand there and fight alone after the way he had fought for me.
I crossed the room slowly. His hand moved instinctively to steady me, fingers pressing warm and gentle against my back.
I leaned into him—just enough—but lifted my chin to face the grandparents.
“I’m Emma,” I said quietly. “And I’m… helping him. We—”
I hesitated only a second.
Then looked up at Kaden.
His eyes softened, fear easing into something else. Something warmer.
“We’re figuring things out,” I finished.
The grandmother narrowed her eyes. “And who exactly are you to Avery?”
Before Kaden could intervene, before they could twist anything—
I placed a hand on his chest.
He froze.
His breath caught.
And then—
I kissed him.
Soft.
Uncertain.
Barely more than a brush of lips.
But real.
True.
Protective.
His shock melted in an instant.
His hand slid up to my cheek, holding me steady, returning the kiss with a gentleness that made my knees nearly give out.
It wasn’t passionate.
It wasn’t practiced.
It was awkward and trembling and filled with the weight of everything we hadn’t said.
I pulled back slowly, breath catching.
“We’re more than you think,” I murmured to the grandparents. “And your granddaughter is safe with us. With him.”
Kaden stared at me like he didn’t know whether to thank me or kiss me again.
Before he could speak—
A sleepy voice called from behind us.
“Emma?” Avery stood in the hallway, rubbing her eyes. “Can you… can you make me pancakes?”
The grandparents gasped softly—because she didn’t run to them.
She didn’t even look at them.
She looked at me.
Like she had last night.
Like I was home.
I smiled gently at her. “Of course I can, sweetheart.”
Then I turned to the grandparents, giving a polite, bruised nod.
“If you’ll excuse me.”
And with a hand on my ribs and another reaching toward the little girl who trusted me completely, I limped past them—
Leaving Kaden standing in the middle of the room, staring after us with something new and undeniable blazing in his eyes.
Something that felt like the beginning of a family.
His.
Mine.
Ours.
After some time the firehouse was finally quiet.
Avery had been fed, bathed, and tucked into bed for a nap with the kind of exhaustion only a child who’d cried too hard could manage. The grandparents had left after a tense, brittle goodbye. And I’d escaped to the small guest room, telling myself I needed to breathe.
But it wasn’t rest that found me.
It was thinking.
Thinking about the way Kaden had stepped in front of me last night.
Thinking about the way he’d let me take Avery from his arms this morning like it was the most natural thing in the world.
Thinking about the way he had looked at me when I kissed him in front of her grandparents—surprised, stunned, soft.
Thinking about the fact that my body still ached, and that I still didn’t regret a single thing I’d done.
A knock came—gentle, hesitant, almost out of character.
Kaden.
He opened the door only halfway. “Can we talk?”
I nodded, pulling the blanket tighter around my sore ribs. He stepped inside but didn’t sit, pacing once before stopping in front of me, hands on his hips, shoulders tense.
“I need help,” he said finally, quietly. “And I—God, Emma, I hate asking you for anything after what you went through. But I don’t have a choice.”
My stomach tightened. “What’s going on?”
He exhaled through his nose, a rough, heavy sound.
“There’s a custody hearing coming up. Temporary—for now. But her grandparents are pushing hard to take Avery. They’re saying she needs stability. A steady home. A… family unit.”
He swallowed, eyes darting away.
Almost… embarrassed.
“And I don’t have that,” he murmured.
He didn’t say I’m alone.
He didn’t have to.
I felt it.
Felt the weight on him.
Felt the fear he was trying to swallow whole.
“What are you asking, Kaden?” I whispered.
He dragged a hand down his face, then forced himself to meet my eyes—directly, fully.
“I want to pay you,” he said, voice rough. “To pretend to be my fiancée until the case is finished. Just until I have legal protection to keep Avery. You’d have your own room, your own space, I’d never—never ask for anything inappropriate from you. And I’d compensate you well. Enough to help you get a new start. A safe one.”
Something inside me twisted.
He was so careful.
So gentle.
So desperate.
And he thought I’d need money to consider helping him.
“Kaden,” I said softly, shaking my head. “I’m not taking money from you.”
He stiffened. “Emma, you don’t have to be noble—”
“I’m not taking money,” I repeated, firmer. “I’ll do it. I’ll be whatever you need me to be for that court case. Your fiancée, your partner, Avery’s…” My throat tightened. “Avery’s constant.”
He stared at me like he couldn’t decide whether to breathe or break.
“…Why?” he whispered.
I looked at him — really looked — at the man who had stepped between me and danger without thinking, who had scooped me off the floor last night with shaking hands, who had checked my breathing five different times before bed.
“Because you saved my life,” I said. “And I don’t mean metaphorically. If you hadn’t shown up last night, Kaden, my ex would’ve killed me. I know that. I feel it in my bones. You saved me.”
Silence.
Heavy.
Electric.
Charged.
“And now,” I whispered, lifting my chin, “I’m going to save you.”
His jaw flexed. His hands curled. His eyes went glassy for a second — not with tears, but with the kind of emotion men like him don’t let themselves show.
“You don’t owe me anything,” he said hoarsely.
“No,” I agreed. “I don’t.”
I stood, every muscle protesting, but I did it anyway — walking right to him until his breath brushed mine.
“But I’m doing it anyway.”
Something in him… gave.
Not broke.
Not shattered.
Opened.
“Okay,” he whispered.
And for the first time since last night, the fear around him eased.
Just a little.
Just enough.
- Writer
