Total pages in book: 23
Estimated words: 24365 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 122(@200wpm)___ 97(@250wpm)___ 81(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 24365 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 122(@200wpm)___ 97(@250wpm)___ 81(@300wpm)
“You’re going to cave,” I call over.
Boone glances at me, mouth tilting. “I don’t cave.”
“You folded the second he smiled at you this morning.”
Theo grins like he knows exactly how much power he has.
Boone sighs theatrically. “I’m surrounded by traitors.”
He shifts Theo down, crouches, and lifts him up onto the truck seat with practiced ease. “One honk,” he warns. “Then we’re done.”
Theo’s hand slaps the horn with unfiltered joy. The sound blares through the bay, followed immediately by cheers from the crew and shrieks of laughter from the kids. Somewhere behind me, Captain Saxon groans like his soul just left his body.
I laugh, shaking my head, as Boone lifts Theo back down and presses a kiss to his hair, all gruff tenderness and quiet pride. Theo wraps his arms around Boone’s neck and plants a slobbery kiss on his cheek in return.
“Best day ever,” Theo declares.
Boone meets my eyes over our son’s head, expression gone soft. “Yeah, bud. It is.”
At my feet, something tugs at my pant leg. I look down just in time to see one of our twin girls—Mara—pull herself upright using my jeans as leverage. Her sister, June, crawls over, determined not to be left behind. They’re both round-cheeked and curious, hair just starting to curl, eyes already full of trouble.
“Up,” Mara demands, holding out sticky hands.
“You don’t even have words yet,” I tell her.
She shrieks, delighted, because she knows she’s winning.
I scoop them both up, one on each hip, the familiar weight grounding me. “You two are going to take this place over someday.”
Boone snorts. “They already run my house.”
“Your house?” I echo.
“Our house,” he corrects smoothly, stepping closer. “I know better than to claim sole ownership.”
He reaches out, fingers brushing my wrist, then Mara’s hand, then June’s cheek, like he’s checking in with all of us at once. His gaze lingers on me, dark and intent, the same way it always has. The look that says mine without ever needing to say it out loud.
Lucy wanders over, eyeing the twins. “They’re getting big.”
“That’s how time works,” Boone says dryly.
She grins. “You’re still grumpy.”
“Only on special occasions.”
Theo barrels into my legs again, arms wrapping tight. “Mommy, look! Uncle Ash let me wear his hat.”
I glance up to see Ash pretending he doesn’t notice the oversized firehouse cap sliding down Theo’s face. Boone clears his throat.
“Ash,” he calls, voice carrying.
Ash looks over, feigning innocence. “What?”
“If my son trips over your helmet and breaks his neck—”
“Dramatic,” I mutter.
“—I will end you,” Boone finishes calmly.
Ash laughs, unbothered. “Worth it.”
The cake comes out shortly after—red frosting, because Theo insisted fire trucks are red and therefore everything should be red. Candles flicker. The crew gathers around, a semicircle of uniforms and civilians and kids with sugar on their faces. Boone stands behind Theo, hands steadying his shoulders as everyone sings.
Theo blows out the candles with all the seriousness of a man making a wish that actually matters.
“What’d you wish for?” Lucy asks.
Theo thinks, then shrugs. “More trucks.”
Boone nods approvingly. “Good goal.”
As the party drifts back into controlled chaos, Boone and I slip toward the edge of the bay, the twins babbling between us. The sun slants in through the open doors, dust catching light like sparks.
“Remember when you hated this place?” I ask lightly.
Boone’s mouth quirks. “I never hated it.”
“You avoided it like it was on fire.”
“Fair,” he concedes. He watches Theo chase a balloon across the floor. “I was afraid.”
I know what he means. He doesn’t have to say it.
“You thought if you let yourself want this,” I say quietly, “you’d lose it.”
He looks at me then, really looks, eyes steady. “I thought if I lived, something bad would happen.”
I shift June higher on my hip. “And now?”
“And now I know living is the point.”
I smile, leaning into him. “Took you long enough.”
He presses his forehead to mine, brief and private amid the noise. “You dragged me kicking and screaming.”
“Someone had to.”
Theo barrels back toward us, arms wide. Boone scoops him up again, easy and practiced, then reaches for my free hand.
“Hey,” he says, low enough only I can hear. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For not letting me hide.”
I squeeze his fingers. “You did the hard part.”
We stand there like that—five of us, anchored together—while the firehouse hums around us. Engines gleam. Kids laugh. The smell of cake and coffee and grease mingles in the air.
Boone once told me he was afraid of fire because of what it took from him.
Now, watching him laugh as Theo demands one more horn, seeing the twins clap like they’ve just witnessed magic, I understand the truth we built together.
Fire didn’t ruin him.
It forged him.
And the life he once feared—the noise, the mess, the love so big it hurts sometimes—is the very thing that saved him.
THE END