Page 9 of Falling for the Bad Boy Firefighter
I clear my throat, trying to recapture my professional demeanor. "The point is, this evidence proves the Walkers were innocent. If we make this public, it could change how people see your family. It could change everything."
Jax snorts, running a hand through his hair in a gesture that seems more frustrated than casual. "You really think a century of judgment gets erased with a few old papers? That's not how this town works."
"It could be a start," I insist, leaning forward. "The truth matters, Jax."
He studies me for a long moment, his expression unreadable. "You really believe that, don't you? That people change their minds when faced with facts?"
"I have to believe it," I say softly, meeting his gaze. "Otherwise, what's the point of any of this?" I gesture to the archives around us. "History isn't just about preserving the past—it's about learning from it, too."
A reluctant smile tugs at one corner of his mouth. "You're something else, you know that?"
I blink, taken aback by the almost-compliment. "What do you mean?"
"Most people in this town made up their minds about me years ago. They see the name, the tattoos, the reputation I earned when I was too young to know better." He gestures vaguely to himself. "A Walker is a Walker. End of story."
"That's not fair," I protest.
"Fair?" He laughs, but there's no humor in it. "Sweetheart—Penny—life isn't fair. Especially not in a town with a memory longer than its main street."
His resignation bothers me more than it should. "So you're just going to accept it? Let them define you by your last name forever?"
"I'm a firefighter, aren't I?" he counters. "I save their houses, their pets, their kids. Hell, I pulled Mrs. Abernathy's cat out of a tree last month, and she still clutched her purse tighter when I walked past her on the street yesterday."
The unfairness of it makes my chest ache. "Then we prove them wrong. With this." I tap the folder emphatically. "We show them they've been wrong about the Walkers for generations."
Jax tilts his head, studying me with an intensity that makes my skin tingle. "Why do you care?"
The question catches me off guard. "Because it's the right thing to do."
"No." He shakes his head. "There's more to it than that. Why does Penny Clark, town sweetheart and keeper of Fox Ridge's precious history, suddenly care about clearing the Walker name?"
I feel my cheeks flush. "I'm not the town sweetheart."
"You kind of are," he says, a hint of that smirk returning. "Always volunteering, organizing the festivals, baking those little cakes for the senior center."
"They're scones," I correct automatically, then stop. "How do you know about that?"
Now it's his turn to look slightly caught out. "Small town," he mutters, looking away.
The thought that Jax has been noticing me, even from a distance, sends a strange thrill through me. I stand, needing to move, to dispel some of the energy building inside me.
"I care because I was raised to believe truth matters," I say, pacing between the shelves. "Because the same town that judges you judges me too—just differently. Perfect Penny Clark. Never a hair out of place. Never a rule broken. Never anything but exactly what everyone expects."
The words come faster now, years of frustration bubbling to the surface. "Do you know how exhausting that is? To be forever trapped in the box people have built for you?"
Jax stands too, his movement startling me into stillness. He's closer now, close enough that I have to tilt my head back to meet his eyes.
"Yeah," he says quietly. "I know exactly how that feels."
We stand there, the air between us charged with understanding, with recognition. Two people trapped on opposite sides of the same coin.
"So help me fix it," I whisper. "Help me tell the truth."
Jax steps closer, close enough that I can feel the heat radiating from his body. "You really think it's that simple?"
"No," I admit. "But it's a start."
His eyes drop to my lips, just for a moment, but long enough to send my heart into overdrive. "You really are something else, Penny Clark."
