Page 11 of The Maine Event

“I’m fine, sweetie,” I assure her, my voice a little too bright. “Just a long day, that’s all.”

Dan touches her shoulder, gently steering her towards the door. “Come on, Chloe. Let’s let the lady enjoy her dinner in peace.”

I nod, grateful for the reprieve.

Just then, as Dan reaches for the door handle, there’s a commotion near the counter. An elderly woman, her face pale and drawn, sways on her feet, then crumples to the ground.

“Go take a seat, sweetie, I just need to take care of something.” Dan indicates an empty seat and Chloe follows the instruction.

Instinctively, Dan and I both rush to the woman on the floor. I check for a pulse while Dan calls out for someone to dial 911.

The elderly woman barely has time to gasp before he’s kneeling beside her, his voice low and steady.

“You okay, ma’am? Just stay still for a second, alright?”

There’s something about the way he says it—calm, but firm—that immediately makes people trust him. She nods, breathless, clutching his arm as he carefully helps her sit up. The diner staff rush over with concern, offering napkins, ice, the kind of mild panic and random offerings that come when no one’s quite sure what to do.

Dan, though? He’s already taken care of it.

It’s such a small moment. Nothing dramatic, nothing particularly heroic. But as I watch him smooth down the woman’s coat, making sure she’s steady before letting go, it hits me.

This is who he is. The guy who steps in. The guy who cares. Not because there’s anything to gain, not because he expects recognition—just because that’s what you do when someone needs help.

Something tightens in my chest, unexpected and unfamiliar.

I spend my life impressing people. Convincing boardrooms full of skeptical men that I’m worth listening to. Selling ideas, crafting strategies, making sure that when I walk out of a meeting, no one forgets my name.

Dan doesn’t have to do any of that. And yet, somehow, in this tiny, insignificant moment, he’s managed to impress the hell out of me.

Together, Dan and I work to make the woman as comfortable as possible, our movements synchronized and efficient. With her back now resting against the counter, I roll up a sweater the waitress hands to me into a makeshift pillow and place it behind the woman’s head. Dan takes one of her hands and holds it in his, letting her know that help is on its way and everything’s going to be okay.

As we wait for the paramedics to arrive, I catch Dan’s eye over the woman’s head. And in that moment, I see something I recognize, something that mirrors my own determination, my own need to help, to fix, to make things right.

“Is she going to be okay?” Chloe asks, her brow furrowed with concern as she looks across from the booth.

“I hope so,” I reply, unsure. “We’ll let the paramedics decide what to do next.”

We lapse into silence, the weight of the moment hanging heavy. Around us, the diner buzzes with anxious energy, the other patrons looking on with worried expressions.

“You know,” Dan says suddenly, his voice cutting through the tension, “I never thought I’d be playing hero in a diner on a Sunday night.”

Despite myself, I feel a smile tug at the corners of my mouth. “Yeah, well, I never thought I’d be stranded in Maine, but here we are.”

Dan chuckles, a low, warm sound that seems to ease the tightness in my chest. “Funny how life works out sometimes, isn’t it?”

I nod, my gaze still fixed on the woman’s face. “It’s been a hell of a day, that’s for sure.”

“Tell me about it,” Dan says, shifting to a more comfortable position. “I woke up this morning thinking the biggest challenge I’d face today would be getting Chloe to eat her vegetables.”

I can’t help but laugh at that, a real, genuine laugh that feels foreign and wonderful all at once.

At the sound of her name, Chloe’s head shoots up from her phone like a meerkat. She hops up from the booth and into Dan’s warm embrace.

“Love you, pumpkin. You did good.”

There’s something in his voice, a warmth and sincerity that catches me off guard. I glance over at him, really seeing him for the first time. The exhaustion etched into the lines of his face, the love and pride shining in his eyes when he looks at his daughter. Maybe there’s more to this guy than meets the eye. More than the harried single dad, more than the small-town motel cleaner.

Dan turns back to me, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “I’m Dan, by the way. This is Chloe.”

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