Five
1102 Words
Emma:
The firehouse settled into a strange, hushed stillness once the lights were off and Avery was tucked into her little cot in the captain’s office. Kaden had given me the bed in the dorms — a narrow but warm little space — and then insisted on taking the couch in the common room.
But sleep didn’t come.
The heater hummed softly. Snow pressed thick against the windows, turning the world outside into a white blur. Every creak in the building made my pulse jump, even though I knew it was safe here… at least, safer than anywhere else I’d been in a long time.
I turned over again, pulling the blanket up to my chin.
That’s when I heard it.
A low rumble. Tires crunching over fresh snow. Slow. Too slow.
I held my breath.
A second later, the engine cut.
My stomach dropped so violently I had to sit up.
No. No, it couldn’t be—
A sharp knock cracked through the firehouse.
I flinched so hard the metal bedframe rattled.
Before I could even move, I heard footsteps — heavy, deliberate, and fast — coming down the hallway—Kaden’s.
I slipped out of bed, heart pounding against my ribs like it was trying to escape.
By the time I made it to the common room doorway, Kaden was already standing in front of the glass-paneled public entrance, body angled in a solid, immovable line. One hand hovered near the latch. The other braced the doorframe, blocking any view of me.
His voice was low. Controlled.
“Firehouse is closed. State your business.”
And then—
A voice I knew too well.
Smooth. Calm. Icy.
“Emma. I’m here to pick her up.”
My breath hitched so hard it hurt.
Kaden didn’t move. His shoulders squared, breath steady. If he recognized the shift in me behind him, he didn’t show it. He just… held the line.
“I’m speaking to you,” the voice said again. “Open the door.”
“No,” Kaden replied, tone flat as stone. “You’re not coming in.”
My knees buckled, but I gripped the doorframe to stay upright.
A beat. Then a harsh exhale.
“You don’t understand,” he said. “She’s confused. She does this sometimes. Gets overwhelmed. I’m trying to help her.”
I wanted to scream. To shove my hand over his mouth. To stop the lies from coating the air like poison.
But Kaden beat me to it.
“Save it,” he said quietly. Deadly calm. “You’re not talking to her.”
A pause. A shift of boots on snow.
“Look, man,” my ex said, tone slipping into something sharp beneath the calm veneer, “this is between me and Emma. You don’t need to—”
“That’s where you’re wrong.” Kaden leaned forward just slightly, a wall of heat, steadiness, and absolute certainty. “She came here to be safe. That makes it my business.”
If the door hadn’t been between them, I swear my ex would’ve tried to shove his face into Kaden’s.
The next words came out in a snarl.
“She’s mine. She’s coming with me. Now open the—”
The metal handle rattled. Hard.
Kaden snapped.
Not loudly. Not violently. Just… decisively.
He caught the handle, shoved it back into place, and planted his boots with a warning that vibrated through the floor.
“Touch that door again,” he said, voice low enough to freeze bone, “and you won’t be driving home.”
Silence.
Then—faint crunching as my ex backed up a step.
Through the glass, I could see his shape now — tall, rigid, the faint outline of his coat dusted with snow. His head turned just enough to scan the interior.
He couldn’t see me.
Because Kaden never moved from the doorway.
His hands, though relaxed, weren’t loose. His stance wasn’t defensive — it was a dare.
A loud, wet gust of winter wind blew past as my ex snarled through clenched teeth.
“You’re making a mistake.”
Kaden didn’t blink. “No. You did.”
Red and blue lights flashed suddenly across the snow outside. Patrol. The same officers he’d been checking in with earlier.
Kaden didn’t even look back at me.
“Go to the bunkroom,” he murmured, quiet enough only I could hear. “Right now.”
His tone wasn’t demanding.
It was protective. Focused. Like he was already ten steps ahead.
I didn’t want to leave him. I didn’t want to face the idea that the man who’d once held all my fear could still find me this easily.
But Kaden’s eyes flicked to mine for a half-second — a soft, steady reassurance beneath the tension.
I nodded and stepped back. He waited until I was out of sight before he unlocked the door just wide enough for the officers to step in front of him.
Raised voices. Cold air. Negotiation.
My ex tried to push his story, but Kaden’s voice cut through it all — calm, firm, unshakably confident.
“Emma’s staying here. You are not permitted on this property again. Leave.”
A few more minutes. Then the sound of tires spinning on snow as he finally drove off.
Only when the engine faded did the firehouse fall quiet again.
I stood frozen in the hallway until Kaden came back inside, shutting the door with a soft click.
He looked at me.
I felt something inside me break — not in pain, but in relief so sharp it hurt.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered, choking on the words. “I didn’t know he’d—”
“Stop.” Kaden’s voice was gentler than I’d ever heard it. He stepped closer, slow enough that I could back away if I needed to. “You don’t apologize for him. You don’t take the blame for his choices. Not here.”
My lip trembled. “I thought he’d never—”
“He won’t touch you.” His jaw flexed, but his eyes stayed soft. “Not now. Not ever again.”
The firehouse was warm. The snow outside pressed thick and silent against the windows. But the only thing I could focus on was him — this immovable, deeply steady man standing between me and everything I’d been running from.
“I mean it,” he said, voice a soft growl that sank straight into the coldest parts of me.
“He comes back, he’ll find out I’m not the kind of man he can scare.”
- Writer
