Nine
1896 Words
Emma:
Kaden didn’t move at first.
He just stood there, breathing me in like he wasn’t sure I was real. Like one wrong word, one wrong twitch of muscle, might make me disappear.
A strange warmth bloomed in my chest.
Not comfort.Not safety.Something… sharper.
Something that felt like stepping too close to a fire and realizing it didn’t burn the way you expected — that maybe you needed the heat after all.
He cleared his throat, stepping back just enough to regain some control. “Okay,” he said again, quieter this time. “If we’re doing this… we need to get a plan together. Logistics. Details the court will ask about.”
I nodded, even though my ribs screamed. “Alright.”
He gestured toward the small table in the corner of the room. “Can you sit? You’re shaking.”
I was.
I hadn’t noticed until that moment — but my hands trembled, my legs wobbled, and every breath felt like needles. I let him guide me into the chair, his hand barely resting against my back. Gentle. Careful. Like I was something breakable.
I hated that I was breakable right now.
I hated even more that part of me liked the way he treated me because of it.
Kaden sat across from me, elbows braced on his knees, hands clasped like he needed to hold them together or risk unraveling.
“We’ll need to build a timeline,” he said. “A story of how we met. How long we’ve been seeing each other. When things… progressed.”
I swallowed. “Okay. Makes sense.”
“And we’ll need consistency,” he continued, eyes flicking upward to meet mine. “Matching details. Joint decisions. A level of—” he hesitated, searching for the right word “—closeness.”
Heat crept into my face.
He noticed.
His gaze softened. “Not like that. I told you — I won’t expect or ask for anything you don’t want to give. This is legal. Protective. Not…” His jaw tightened. “Not personal.”
But it felt personal.
God, it felt personal.
The kiss alone had said more than words could have.
I looked down at my hands. “I understand.”
He exhaled slowly, running a thumb along the edge of the table. “The hearing is in three weeks.”
My head snapped up. “Three weeks?”
He grimaced. “They filed an emergency petition. They’re claiming emotional instability. Exposure to violence.”
My throat tightened. “Because of last night.”
“Yeah.” His voice cracked like the word physically hurt him. “They think Avery being near you put her in danger. They think I let someone unstable into her life.”
The air punched out of me.
“They think I am the problem.”
“No,” Kaden said sharply — too sharply. Then his expression gentled, voice lowering. “No, Emma. You’re not the problem. You’re the proof I’m doing something right.”
I blinked. “What?”
“Avery trusts you,” he said. “She feels safe with you. She ran to you. Chose you.” His throat bobbed as he swallowed. “And that matters — it matters to them. If they think I have a stable partner, someone steady and good, someone who isn’t running from danger—”
I flinched.
He froze. “Emma, I didn’t mean—”
“You’re right,” I whispered. “I am running. I have been for months.”
His voice softened to something unbearably gentle. “You’re surviving. That’s not the same thing.”
I looked away, blinking hard.
“Okay,” I murmured. “Tell me what you need next.”
Kaden hesitated.
And for the first time since this whole conversation began, he looked… nervous.
Vulnerable in a way I didn’t expect from a man built like a wall with a heartbeat.
“We’d need to… live together,” he said. “For the court to believe this. To believe us.”
A silence fell between us.
Heavy.
Not uncomfortable — just full.
I searched his face, hoping for any sign of doubt. A crack. A hesitation. A place where I could bow out if I needed to.
There wasn’t one.
Just hope he didn’t want to feel. Fear he didn’t want to show. And a fierce, protective love for a little girl who didn’t deserve to lose him.
“I can do that,” I said finally. “If it helps you keep Avery, I can do that.”
Kaden’s eyes closed for a moment, like he needed the second to steady himself.
When he opened them again, he looked at me like he was seeing a future he hadn’t dared to imagine.
“Thank you,” he said — a whisper, a vow, a breath wrapped in gratitude. “Emma… thank you.”
He wasn’t the type to say more.
But he didn’t have to.
The space between us said everything.
He pushed his chair back. “You should rest. I’ll make some calls. Start setting things up.”
I reached out instinctively, fingers brushing his wrist before I could stop myself. “Kaden.”
He froze.
“I meant it,” I said softly. “All of it. You didn’t force me into this. You didn’t guilt me. I’m doing this because I want to. Because Avery deserves to stay with you. And because—” My voice trembled. “Because I’m tired of being afraid alone.”
Something in his expression broke open.
Slowly — carefully — he covered my hand with his.
“You’re not alone anymore,” he said.
My throat closed.
He squeezed my hand once before letting go. “Get some sleep. Please.”
I nodded, watching him walk to the door.
His shoulders weren’t as tense. His steps weren’t as heavy. His breath wasn’t as sharp.
But right before he stepped into the hallway, he paused.
Looked back at me.
And said, voice rough:
“For the record… I didn’t hate that kiss.”
My heart stuttered.
Neither did I.
And when the door clicked shut behind him, the firehouse didn’t feel quite as cold.
Kaden:
I didn’t make it far.
Just to the end of the hallway — barely five steps — before the breath I’d been holding cracked out of me. Not a sigh. Not relief. Something tighter. Sharper. Like the pressure in my chest had been wound too tight and was finally starting to break.
I pressed a hand to the doorframe and bowed my head.
God.
Everything in me was still buzzing.
Her voice.Her eyes.Her saying yes.Not out of fear.Not out of desperation.Not because I offered money.
But because she wanted to help me.
Because she thought I deserved it.
The worst part was… I’d almost believed I didn’t.
I dragged a hand through my hair, trying to steady myself, ground myself, anything. But my body felt wrong — too light in some places, too heavy in others — like I’d walked out of a burning building only to step into something even more dangerous.
Her.
I’d told myself to keep a distance.
I’d told myself her kiss didn’t mean anything but strategy.
But the truth?
The second her hand touched my chest this morning, I forgot what strategy even was. Forgot how to think. Forgot how to breathe. I was just trying not to pull her in and kiss her like I’d wanted to since the second she’d stepped into this damn firehouse.
And now she was agreeing to pretend to be mine.
For weeks.
Maybe months.
Fuck.
I pushed off the doorframe and forced myself down the hall toward the central bay, steps echoing too loudly in the empty firehouse. The grandparents were gone — thank God — but their voices still clung to the walls like smoke.
He can’t raise her alone. A child needs a family. You’re barely getting by.
I’d heard every insult under the sun since I was a teenager. Didn’t matter. Didn’t stick.
But the idea of losing Avery?
That was the only thing that could break me.
And they knew it.
I swallowed hard, forcing my breath steady. I needed to calm down. Think. Make a plan. But every time I tried, my thoughts drifted back to the way Emma looked at me when she said:
I’m going to save you.
No one had ever said anything like that to me. Not in my whole damn life.
I paced the length of the bay, fingers flexing restlessly, jaw aching from how hard I kept grinding my teeth.
This was supposed to be business. A strategy. A plan to keep my daughter.
But the second Emma stood there — bruised, trembling, refusing to take a dime from me — I knew it would never be just a plan.
She was in this.
Really in this.
And I didn’t know what to do with that.
I stopped in the middle of the empty garage and scrubbed both hands over my face. The fluorescent lights above hummed quietly, the engines slept silently behind their red steel doors, and the whole damn building felt too big.
Without meaning to, my thoughts drifted back to her in the doorway earlier.
The way she leaned against the wall, yet still stood tall. The way she looked at Avery with this pure, instinctive softness. The way she kissed me was like she wasn’t thinking, just doing.
My chest tightened.
I didn’t hate that kiss.
Hell, I hadn’t hated anything less in my entire life.
I should’ve told her something smoother. Something calm. Something that didn’t sound like I’d just been hit with a brick to the skull.
But when she looked at me with those wide, bruised eyes…
All I could do was tell the truth.
I exhaled a shaky breath and resumed pacing.
We had three weeks to make this look real.
Three weeks to build a life convincing enough to keep my daughter safe and three weeks of Emma living under my roof and sleeping down the hall, walking around in my shirt, maybe, smiling at Avery over breakfast, and falling asleep on the couch next to me.
My stomach twisted.
Pretending was going to be a problem.
Because somewhere between her stepping in front of Avery last night and her kissing me this morning…
I wasn’t sure I knew where pretending ended anymore.
I heard a soft rustle from down the hall — Avery shifting in sleep or Emma moving in the guest room — and something warm and protective surged up in me so fast it choked me.
They were both here.
Both safe.
Both under my watch.
And for the first time in a long, long time… I didn’t feel completely alone.
I blew out another breath and stared at the ceiling.
“Get your s**t together, Frost,” I muttered. “You’ve got a fiancée to fake.”
But the word fiancée tasted too right in my mouth.
Too easy.
Too dangerous.
I wasn’t going to fall for her.
I couldn’t.
This was about Avery. Only Avery. Always Avery.
But when I closed my eyes, all I saw was Emma looking at me like she believed I was worth saving.
And that terrified me more than the custody battle ever could.
- Writer
