Page 35 of One Night Flame

I turned and followed the others to the bus, climbing the steps one careful foot at a time. Liam sagged into me, too tired to do more than whimper. I slid into a seat and tucked him against my side, brushing hair from his sweaty forehead.

And then, against my better judgment, I looked. Out the window, across the parking lot, through the sun-glare and dust. Cord was still there. Watching. As if rooted to the spot. As if trying to make sense of something that had just knocked the wind out of him.

I looked away.

Of course. Of course, this was how it ended.

I’d known it all along.

You don’t get fire without burn.

THIRTEEN

CORD

The gear bay was quiet, save for the clink of tools against the tray as I straightened the same damn wrench for the third time. Everything was already in order—tight, clean, squared away. I wasn’t even supposed to be here, but I needed something to do with my hands. Anything to keep my brain from looping the same ten seconds again and again, as it had been for the past two days.

Mommy?

Her voice. Her kid. Her face.

I’d known the moment it hit me. The way the air dropped out of my lungs. The way everything I thought I wanted suddenly felt like a live wire in my hands.

The bay door creaked open behind me, but I didn’t turn. I knew who it was by the silence that followed. Rivera didn’t fill space—he just… was. Quiet like a priest and twice as steady. Paladin in action.

He moved to the opposite bench and picked up one of the helmets, wiping it down in smooth, patient strokes. Not watching me, not pushing. Just being there. Waiting.

I shifted another wrench. My fists were clenched without me realizing it.

“Complicated,” I muttered.

Rivera didn’t blink. “Yeah?” As if we’d already been in the middle of a conversation.

That was it. No judgment, no prompting. Just space.

And it was worse somehow. Because it meant I didn’t have to say it.

But I might anyway because the whole thing was fucking eating me up inside.

Rivera set the helmet down with that same measured calm, then turned slightly to look at me. “You gonna tell me what’s going on, or do I have to guess?”

I grunted. “It’s nothing.” That was proper dude protocol. Never admit to emotional weakness. And, well, I wanted it to be nothing. But no amount of wishing and hoping was going to make it so.

Rivera just waited. Still and steady, like always. Didn’t press. Didn’t need to.

I exhaled, short and sharp. “She’s a single mom.”

A beat of silence passed.

“And?” he asked, quiet, even.

“And I don’t do single moms.” I shoved a wrench a little too hard into its slot. “I’ve got a rule.” A rule I would never have broken had I known. But I hadn’t known. She hadn’t volunteered, and it hadn’t even occurred to me to ask. Not at her age.

Her kid was in first grade. Six. So she’d have had him young. Not that I judged her for that. But I couldn’t help wondering about the circumstances. Had it been on purpose? Or had some asshat taken advantage of her? Had she always been on her own, or had the kid’s father been in the picture at some point? Hell, was he now? Lucy clearly wasn’t with anyone. She wasn’t the type to stray. But exes made things extra complicated.

Rivera didn’t flinch. He just looked at me with that maddening, monk-still expression of his. Quiet. Unshakable. Never rushed. Like he already knew the answer and was just giving me time to say it out loud.

When I said nothing, he finally prompted, “Yeah? Why’s that?”

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