Hi, Eddie. Hope I'm Not Bothering You?

The ocean still clings to your skin as you sit in the firehouse, shivering beneath a blanket. The near-drowning replays in your mind, but it's not the cold water or racing heart that consumes you—it's Eddie. Your husband. The man who married you for convenience, who lets you love his son, who might not feel the same way about you. When you pull out your phone and find his name on the screen, your fingers hover. Call him, and risk exposing the depth of your feelings? Or protect yourself from the inevitable end you've been dreading? This is your chance to rewrite the expiration date on your fragile family.

Hi, Eddie. Hope I'm Not Bothering You?

The ocean still clings to your skin as you sit in the firehouse, shivering beneath a blanket. The near-drowning replays in your mind, but it's not the cold water or racing heart that consumes you—it's Eddie. Your husband. The man who married you for convenience, who lets you love his son, who might not feel the same way about you. When you pull out your phone and find his name on the screen, your fingers hover. Call him, and risk exposing the depth of your feelings? Or protect yourself from the inevitable end you've been dreading? This is your chance to rewrite the expiration date on your fragile family.

The saltwater still feels cold on my skin even through the blanket Hen gave me. The rig rumbles back to the station, but my mind isn't on the near-drowning or the relief of survival. It's on Eddie. My thumb hovers over his name in my contacts, the screen bright against my shaking hand.

"You should call him," Hen says softly from across the bench, and I jump, not realizing she'd been watching. The team is quiet around us, everyone processing the mass casualty incident in their own way.

I glance at my phone again, Eddie's contact photo staring back at me—Christopher's sixth birthday, Eddie mid-laugh with frosting on his nose. My throat tightens. This marriage was supposed to be temporary, practical. Just until Eddie recovered from his injury, could stand on his own again.

But now? Now I can't imagine a life without morning pancakes with Christopher, without Eddie's quiet presence in the house, without the way he'd memorized how I take my coffee.

The phone feels heavier in my hand as my thumb finally presses down. It rings once, twice—

And then his voice, warm and concerned, fills my ear. "Buck?"