Page 4 of Into the Fire
“I just don't think it's a good idea. Mommentioned the part where you don’t have experience with kids.”
She shrugged, unbothered. “And you clearly don't have a lot of experience with basic manners.”
That hit a nerve—Levi’s jaw flexed, the crease in his brow deepened, but he didn’t speak.
She turned, clearly done with the conversation, and headed back towards her car.
“Wait,” he said before he could stop himself. Knowing that his mom would never let him hear the end of it if he didn't at least see if this could help, he knew that she was right. He was drowning, and it was June who was getting the bare minimum of his attention.
She stopped, not turning to face him.
He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Look, I’m... not great at this. Especially when I feel cornered.”
Now she turned. One eyebrow raised.
“Maybe we just... talk for a few minutes,” he said gruffly. “No pressure.”
He nodded toward the porch and the little table besidethe porch swing, where the pitcher of sweet tea his mom had set out was slightly sweating in the evening heat, along with two empty glasses.
“Five minutes,” he said. “And then decide for yourself if I’m as big of an ass as you think I am?”
Emery studied him, standing there in his socks. Still kind of scowling. But there was something behind the gruffness, a thread of vulnerability she hadn’t expected.
She walked up the steps, took a glass, and lowered herself onto the swing.
“I’m not promising anything,” she said, taking a sip.
“Didn’t ask you to,” he replied, settling on the top step a few feet away.
The ice in Emery’s glass clinked as she took another sip of the tea. Sweet, a little too sweet, but somehow comforting.
Levi rested his forearms on his knees; his eyes fixed on some point in the field beyond the barn.
“So,” Emery said, breaking the silence. “Whatexactly would you be looking for in this job, if you weren’t dead set on hating the idea?”
He let out a dry laugh. “That’s the problem. I don’t even know.”
She waited.
“I’ve always done everything myself,” he said after a beat. “Ever since June was born. Her mom... left not long after. Said she wasn’t cut out for this. Small-town life. Or being tied down. Or maybe she meant motherhood. I stopped asking which one she meant.”
Emery didn’t interrupt.
“So, it’s just been me. Getting her to school. Running the farm. Switching laundry at midnight. Packing lunches and googling what the hell a Dutch braid is.”
He didn’t say it for sympathy, more like a fact. “But lately, it’s like… I get her to bed, and I realize I’ve barely had a conversation with her that wasn’t ‘put your shoes on’ or ‘eat your dinner.’ It’s like I’m here, but I’m not with her. And she’s too good of a kid to deserve that.”
Thereit was. Not just exhaustion, but guilt.
“So, your mom’s trying to give you a way to show up better,” Emery said, voice gentle now.
“Yeah,” he muttered. “But it feels like I'm failing.”
She leaned back in the swing. “Sounds more like you're struggling to let someone try to lighten your load. Which—spoiler alert—is not failing.”
Levi looked up at her then. Really taking her in. “You sure you’ve never worked with kids? That sounded suspiciously like mom logic.”
She smiled. “I used to manage high-powered execs with the emotional maturity of toddlers. Close enough.”
