Page 91 of Single Mom's Firefighter SEALs
And somehow, I’m here, helping an eight-year-old build a toy fire station in the house where I now keep a toothbrush, spare clothes, and more peace than I ever expected to find in my life.
Not that it’s quiet here. With five of us in this small house, things can be noisy, and sometimes we get in each other’s way, but it’s worth it to be together.
Buck’s house is bigger, and he invited Elena to come and live with him, where Calder and I would be right next door, but she doesn’t want to change anything else in T.J.’s life right now, especially something as big as where he sleeps at night.
When recent events are further behind us, we’ll talk about living arrangements. Maybe we’ll build a big new housethat holds all of us comfortably—and maybe with space for more.
Out of nowhere, as he snaps two pieces together with fierce concentration, T.J. asks, “Do you think nightmares go away?”
I keep my voice even. “Sometimes.”
His gaze stays on the LEGO pieces. “What if they don’t?”
I set down the brick in my hand and take my time before answering. “Then you get better at not letting them boss you around.” I nudge a tiny plastic ladder toward T.J. “You talk about ‘em. You learn what helps. You remember that waking up means it isn’t real anymore.”
He picks up the ladder and turns it over in his fingers. “Mom says talking helps. That’s why she’s taking me to see Dr. Nancy.”
“Your mom’s smart.”
T.J. peeks up at me. “You have nightmares, too?”
“Yeah.” I keep my tone matter-of-fact. “Not as many as I used to. Some are bad, some are just weird. One time, I dreamed Buck got attacked by a bear because he tried to pet it.”
T.J. laughs, and Buck calls out from the kitchen, “Are you sure I wasn’t the bear?”
“Our brains can be weird, especially in our dreams,” I say.
T.J. nods solemnly, then reaches for the instructions.
We focus on the build for several minutes before he says, “Dr. Nancy wanted me to talkabout the fires.”
I let that settle for a moment, and when he doesn’t say anything more, I ask, “Is that hard?”
His voice is nearly a whisper. “I was afraid I’d cry.”
I open our next bag of pieces and ignore the sudden tightness in my throat. “Then you cry.”
He looks over at me with a serious expression as he searches my face. “That doesn’t bother you.”
“Nope.”
“What about my other dads?” T.J.’s asking me, but Buck and Elena are in the doorway now.
“Nope,” Buck says.
From the kitchen, Calder says, “Also nope.”
T.J. leans into my side for a second, then two. “Okay.”
I hook an arm around his shoulders and squeeze once. “You’ve already done the hard part.”
“What was that?”
“Getting through it.”
Elena, Buck, and Calder come over after that and admire our progress. Buck asks questions about the fire station, and we get into a discussion about apparatus bays and bunk rooms. Elena gives us all fond looks and wanders off into the den, probably to do some work.
Later, while Elena’s putting T.J. to bed, the three of us head out to the front porch for fresh air. After a while, Elena joins us, a tiredbut happy smile on her face.
