Unexpected Inheritance

15

He gave a small, wry smile, brushing a hand against her cheek. "I promise. But... I'm not gonna let someone burn up in their house if I can help it." He glanced over at Tuck, still watching the scene from a distance, and then back at her.

Miranda's gaze softened as she took in the whole scene, the weight of everything sinking in again. "I know," she said quietly. "Just... be careful."

Weeks after the fire, the town had been buzzing with admiration for Ben. Everyone was so proud of how he'd handled the situation, putting himself at risk to save the Mackeys. He had quickly become the local hero, and wherever Miranda went, people would praise Ben's bravery, often with a big pat on the back or a handshake.

Miranda kept her response polite, but the constant talk irked her. Sure, Ben had done a good thing, but did no one care that he ran into a burning house? That he could have died?

And then she noticed something else.

Ben was waking up early. Earlier than his handyman work required. She'd wake up to the rustle of the blankets, the quiet creak of the floorboards, and the shuffle of him getting dressed in the dark.

One morning, after Tuck left for school, Miranda noticed that Ben had already disappeared. It wasn't unusual for him to be up early—he was always the first to rise and often took care of the morning chores. But lately, he was getting up earlier than usual, and this morning, she was certain he was already gone before the sun was fully up.

She frowned and made her way down the stairs to find him. She was about to step outside when she heard the sound of steps on the front porch. Ben came around the corner, wiping sweat from his brow, his face flushed from what looked like a run.

"Ben?" she asked, arching an eyebrow. "You're up earlier than usual. You planning on working the farm before the sun even rises?"

Ben chuckled and shook his head. "No, just needed to get a jog in, that's all."

Miranda stared at him for a second, her eyes narrowing. "A jog, huh? You've been running a lot more lately."

Ben, trying to brush it off, gave a nonchalant shrug. "Just getting back into shape. I figured it's been a while since I ran."

She didn't buy it, but she didn't press him on it either.  As much as she trusted Ben, she also knew when something wasn't quite adding up.

But she let it go for the time being. After all, if it made him feel good, if it kept him focused, she wouldn't get in his way. But the nagging feeling wouldn't go away.

Later that afternoon, she happened to pass by their bedroom and noticed a gym bag on the bed that wasn't usually there. She hesitated for a moment, then walked in and opened it up. Inside, she found running shoes, some protein bars, and a few other items she didn't recognize. She thought she knew everything about his routine, but there was something about this that felt... different.

Her suspicions grew, but she didn't confront him immediately. Instead, she filed it away, deciding to keep an eye on things. She didn't want to jump to conclusions, but there was something about the whole situation that didn't sit right with her.

Miranda sat at the kitchen table with a glass of wine in hand. It was still early, but it had been a long day, and she needed a moment to unwind. The sunlight was starting to fade, casting a warm glow through the windows as she took a sip.

Ben walked through the door with his usual smile. He raised an eyebrow at her, teasing, "Isn't it a little early for wine, love?"

Miranda took a slow sip of her drink, keeping her gaze on him as she set the glass down. "When did my husband start keeping secrets from me?"

Ben froze for a moment, his smile faltering. "What are you talking about?"

She narrowed her eyes, her lips curling into a knowing smirk. "Don't play the 'Miranda is too stupid to figure this out' game with me, Ben."

He raised his hands in mock surrender, clearly thrown off guard. "I don't think you're stupid. What—"

"Then why," she interrupted, cutting him off, "Why are you lying to me?"

She grabbed a stack of papers from the table and threw them in his direction. They fluttered through the air, landing in front of him. Ben hesitated for a second, then glanced down at the papers—training schedules, certification courses, fire safety classes.

She saw his face flush. "Miranda—"

"Don't even try, Ben," she said, her voice calm but firm. "I know what these are. I've known for weeks now, but I kept my mouth shut. I thought I'd let you come clean when you were ready."

"Okay, yes I'm training to be a firefighter."

Miranda let out a bitter laugh. "No kidding."

He ran a hand through his hair, taking a deep breath before meeting her eyes. "I didn't want to worry you."

Miranda's heart skipped a beat as she processed his words. "Worry me? Ben, you're training to be a firefighter. That's a dangerous job. You should've told me."

He took a cautious step closer. "I was going to tell you—"

"Oh, when? When you were already running into burning buildings?" she snapped. "Oh, wait—you've already done that." She took another long sip of wine, shaking her head. "You think I was mad about that day? No. Now I'm mad. No—furious."

Ben sighed. "Can we talk about this?"

She held up her hand. "No, Ben. You can talk about it with yourself like you've already done. I am going to finish my wine in peace."

He exhaled heavily, rubbing the back of his neck. "Miranda—"

"Go."

Ben hesitated, but one look at her face told him this wasn't the time to push. So, reluctantly, he left her alone with her wine, the weight of her anger settling heavily between them.