Page 101 of Stuck with my Brother's Firefighter Besties

The sharp ring of Dad’s cell phone broke the quiet, jolting us both. He fished it out of his pocket, squinting at the screen before answering.

“Yeah? Nate?” His tone shifted, a mix of curiosity and concern.

I stiffened at the sound of my brother’s name, my stomach twisting into knots.

Dad stood and stepped a few feet away, speaking in low tones I couldn’t fully make out. My fingers gripped the edge of the porch step, tension winding tighter with each passing second.

Finally, he hung up and turned back to me.

“What is it?” I asked.

“They’ve released the guys.”

Relief hit me like a wave, but it was short-lived as he continued.

“Rick’s still in custody. Once the police got the full story—about the blackmail, the threats, the con—they let the others go. Nate was there when it happened.”

My stomach clenched. “And?”

Dad hesitated, rubbing the back of his neck. “And he’s pissed, Lila. He’s going home tonight, but… he didn’t have much to say beyond that. I think it’ll take some time.”

Of course he was angry.

Of course he thought I’d ruined everything.

My throat tightened, and I shook my head.

“I can’t deal with this right now,” I whispered.

“Lila…”

“I just… I can’t.” My voice cracked, and I stood abruptly, brushing off Biscuit’s protests as he scrambled to follow.

Dad didn’t stop me as I made my way inside. He didn’t say a word, but I felt his gaze on me, steady and concerned, as I climbed the stairs to my room.

Once inside, I closed the door and leaned against it, pressing my palms to my face.

The events of the night replayed in my mind like a broken record, each moment more overwhelming than the last.

I didn’t know how to face Nate. I didn’t know how to handle the town’s judgment or what came next with Jaxon, Colt, and Ryan.

Sliding into bed, I pulled the covers over my head, wishing for the oblivion of sleep. Biscuit jumped up beside me, his small body curling into mine as if he could shield me from the weight of it all.

For now, I needed to rest.

To breathe.

Tomorrow, I’d figure out what to do.

Tomorrow, I’d face the mess I’d made.

But tonight, I let the exhaustion take over, closing my eyes as Biscuit’s warmth and the faint echo of my dad’s words settled over me like a fragile shield.

I wasn’t alone.

That was enough.

For now.

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