Chapter Sixteen: The Last Ordinary Day
1225 Words
The weekend ended too quickly.
By Sunday afternoon, the cabin looked as though we had never been there. The food was packed, the fireplace was cold, and the reservation for next year was folded inside my purse.
Gavin checked every room twice before locking the door.
“You lose something?” I asked.
“Making sure we didn’t leave anything.”
“You left half the cereal.”
“That’s a gift for the next guests.”
“It’s an open box.”
“A generous gift.”
I smiled and climbed into the truck.
The drive back felt quieter than the drive there. Gavin turned his phone on before leaving the parking lot.
Messages appeared immediately.
Several from the station.
Two from Natalie.
One from Cole.
Gavin read them without answering.
“Everything okay?” I asked.
“Yes.”
“You have fourteen messages.”
“Most of them are Marcus complaining that I abandoned him.”
“And the others?”
“Work.”
He placed the phone facedown in the cup holder.
I didn’t ask about Natalie.
The cabin had given us two days without explanations. I wanted to keep that feeling for a little longer.
Gavin rested his hand on my knee.
“You’re quiet.”
“I don’t want to go back.”
“To your apartment?”
“To everything.”
His fingers tightened slightly.
“Two weeks.”
I looked at him.
“Less,” he corrected. “Twelve days.”
“You counted.”
“Of course I counted.”
The answer made me smile.
---
On Monday morning, I woke alone.
Gavin had left before sunrise for his shift, but there was coffee in the pot and a note beside it.
**Twelve days. Then no more leaving before you wake up.**
I read it three times.
Then I fixed it to the refrigerator beside Sophie’s glittery star.
The two objects looked strange together.
A promise meant for me.
A gift made by his son for his daughter.
Pieces of lives that were never supposed to touch.
I should have seen the warning in that.
Instead, I saw a future beginning to fit together.
---
I went to the firehouse after class with sandwiches for Gavin and Marcus.
The bay doors were open. Cole and Gavin stood near the engine, speaking quietly.
They stopped when they saw me.
Not naturally.
Abruptly.
I slowed.
“Am I interrupting?”
“Yes,” Cole said.
“No,” Gavin answered at the same time.
Cole gave him a look.
I held up the paper bag. “I brought food.”
Marcus appeared from behind the engine.
“Finally, someone useful.”
He took the bag from me and disappeared toward the kitchen.
Gavin came closer and kissed my cheek.
“How was class?”
“I survived.”
“You say that every day.”
“Chemistry is dangerous.”
Cole made a quiet sound behind him.
I looked over Gavin’s shoulder.
“Something funny?”
“No.”
“Then why did you laugh?”
“I didn’t.”
“You did.”
Cole picked up a wrench from the workbench.
“I’m trying to work, Harper.”
Gavin’s hand settled at my waist.
“Leave it.”
I looked between them.
“What were you arguing about?”
“We weren’t,” Gavin said.
Cole didn’t correct him.
That told me enough.
“Was it about me?”
“No,” Gavin said.
“Yes,” Cole answered.
Gavin turned.
“Jesus, Cole.”
“You brought her here. Don’t ask me to lie in front of her.”
“I didn’t ask you anything.”
Cole set the wrench down harder than necessary.
“You never have to. That’s the problem.”
The air between them changed.
This wasn’t their usual irritation.
It felt older. Heavier.
Gavin stepped away from me.
“Not here.”
Cole laughed without humor.
“You love saying that.”
I recognized the words.
Gavin had said them to me more times than I could count.
Cole looked toward the kitchen, making sure the others were out of hearing distance.
Then he lowered his voice.
“You have twelve days, right?”
My stomach tightened.
Gavin’s face hardened.
“Stay out of it.”
“So she does know there’s a deadline.”
“Yes,” I said before Gavin could stop me.
Cole looked at me.
“Twelve days until what?”
“Until he moves out.”
Silence.
Cole’s expression didn’t soften or turn triumphant.
It simply closed.
Gavin moved between us.
“That’s enough.”
Cole’s eyes stayed on his friend.
“Did you tell Natalie that?”
Gavin’s jaw tightened.
“I told you to stay out of my marriage.”
“You keep dragging everyone else into it.”
“I’m handling it.”
“You’ve been handling it for months.”
Gavin stepped closer.
For a second, I thought one of them might shove the other.
Cole looked angry enough.
Gavin looked tired.
Then Cole took a breath and backed away.
“You know what?” he said. “Do whatever the hell you want.”
“I already am.”
Cole’s gaze moved to me once more.
There was no satisfaction in it.
Only something that looked almost like resignation.
Then he walked toward the stairs.
I waited until he disappeared.
“What did he mean?” I asked.
“Nothing.”
“He asked if Natalie knows about the deadline.”
“She knows I’m leaving.”
“Does she know when?”
Gavin rubbed a hand over his face.
“She knows it’s soon.”
“That isn’t the same.”
“Harper, please.”
His voice wasn’t angry.
It was exhausted.
I looked at the soot still caught beneath his fingernails and the dark circles under his eyes.
For once, I didn’t push.
“Twelve days,” I said.
Gavin took my face between his hands.
“Twelve days.”
“And then?”
“I leave the house.”
“You apply for the apartment.”
“Yes.”
“No more hiding?”
His expression softened.
“No more hiding.”
I kissed him.
Not because every doubt had disappeared.
Because I wanted our last twelve days of waiting to feel lighter than the months before them.
The station alarm sounded before I could step away.
Gavin’s hands dropped immediately.
Around us, the firehouse came alive.
Cole ran down the stairs, already pulling on his jacket. He and Gavin looked at each other.
Whatever had passed between them vanished.
They moved toward the engine together.
“What is it?” I asked.
“Residential fire,” Gavin answered.
He kissed my forehead.
“I’ll call you.”
“You always say that.”
“And I always do.”
He climbed onto the engine.
Cole took the seat across from him.
The doors began to close.
Through the window, Gavin smiled at me and lifted one hand.
I raised mine in return.
It was an ordinary goodbye.
No desperate kiss.
No final declaration.
Just a promise to call later.
The engine disappeared into the street, its siren fading into the afternoon.
I stood there holding the note he had left that morning, folded inside my pocket.
**Twelve days.**
- Writer
- chap_listContents
- likeADD