Chapter 7
Dylan
The bakery closes at six, but I stay behind after the last customer leaves because my hands will not settle.
The wildfire alert has been blinking across my phone all afternoon, and even though it's still miles away, the memory of smoke from years ago lingers in my lungs like I never fully breathed it out.
I try to distract myself the only way I know how.
I pull out my mixing bowls and start whipping buttercream with more force than necessary. The rhythmic scrape of the spatula should calm me, but it doesn't. My chest feels tight. My pulse keeps jumping at shadows in the corner of my eye. I pour in vanilla and nearly spill half the bottle.
This is ridiculous.
I survived worse.
But the body remembers what the mind shoves down, and mine is dragging up a night I wish I could forget.
I'm so focused on the frosting that I don't hear the front door open. When a soft voice says my name, I jerk hard enough that the spatula clatters onto the counter.
Piper stands near the prep station with a worried look on her face. Her hair is pulled into a loose ponytail, and the strap of her camera bag digs into her shoulder. It looks like she sprinted here.
"Are you okay?" she asks.
I grip the counter with both hands and focus on keeping my breathing even. "I'm fine."
She studies the way I stand, the way my fingers dig into the stainless steel, the thick tension in the air. Her expression softens.
"You’re not fine," she says.
A muscle jumps in my jaw, I want to deny it, and I want the conversation to end. I want her to leave so I can deal with this alone, because alone is familiar and predictable and safe.
But she steps closer, and then closer still. When she reaches me, she slides her hand over the counter and places it beside mine, close enough that our fingers almost touch.
"You don't have to pretend," she whispers.
The words settle under my skin like warm light.
I close my eyes for a moment and exhale. "The wildfire alert came through again."
She nods slowly, like she is assembling a puzzle piece by piece. “It brings back bad memories every time you get an alert doesn’t it? Is that why the firefighter told you what was happening in advance, so that you didn’t have a panic attack?”
The question hits straight through me. It's so gentle and so painful in the way truth can be. I open my eyes, and she’s watching me with a patience that makes me want to look away.
She slides her hand along my arm until she reaches my elbow. The gesture is steady and intimate and grounding in a way that frightens me with how much I want it.
"It makes sense," she says. "You went through something impossible."
I look at her, really look at her, and something inside me loosens just enough that the ache in my chest eases.
"You don't have to carry it alone," she adds.
I almost laugh, but the sound never escapes. "I've been carrying it alone for a long time."
"Then let me take a little." Her voice is soft but certain.
Her kindness cracks something open inside me. I take a slow breath, then another, and realize the only reason I'm breathing easier is that she is here.
Her hand drifts down to my wrist again. Her thumb slides lightly over my skin. It's nothing, and at the same time it’s everything. My heart feels too big in my chest, my thoughts slow until all I can feel is the warmth of her body near mine and the quiet steadiness in her eyes.
She meets my gaze, and her own breath quickens. The air shifts between us, is thick and charged, like the bakery has become its own world where time moves differently.
"Dylan," she whispers.
The way she says my name is a pull I cannot resist. I reach up and cup her cheek, her skin is soft under my thumb. She leans into the touch like she has been waiting for it all day. She looks up at me with her lips parted, and that is all it takes.
I kiss her.
It starts slow, like I'm learning the shape of her mouth, the taste of her lips, the way she inhales when my thumb strokes her jaw.
But the softness shifts quickly. She slides her hands up my chest and fists them in my shirt.
She pulls me closer until her body is pressed against mine, and the kiss deepens into something hungry and fierce.
Her lips part beneath mine. I taste her breath. I feel the tremble in her fingers. The world narrows to the warmth of her mouth and the smell of frosting on my hands and the sound of her soft, surprised sigh when my tongue finds hers.
My pulse pounds as I've stepped into a fire I cannot control.
She presses her hips subtly against mine, and the contact sends a surge of heat straight through me. The kind of surge that wants to drag her onto the prep table and lock the doors behind us. The kind of surge that could burn down everything I've been trying to protect.
I pull back before I lose control entirely. Our breaths brush each other's lips.
Her eyes are dark and wide. "Why did you stop?"
The question nearly undoes me.
"Because I want too much," I say. "And I can't afford to want more than I can give."
She swallows. Her hand rests over my chest. "What if I want too much too?"
My breath catches. The honesty in her voice is something I was not prepared for.
"Piper," I say quietly, "you’re only here for a few weeks."
Her expression shifts, like something inside her knows that is only half the truth. "Maybe," she says. "Or maybe I'm here for something else."
The thought hits hard enough that I've to look away. I take a step back and scrub a hand over my face.
"I need to think," I mutter.
She nods, but there is a faint tremble in her breath. "I get it."
She turns toward the door. I watch her walk away, and something in my chest feels like it's being pulled out by hand.
"Piper," I say.
She stops and looks back.
"Thank you," I say. "For helping me breathe."
Her smile is small and heartbreaking and hopeful all at once. "Anytime."
I watch her go, unable to shake the feeling that I just crossed a line I can't uncross.
And the worst part is that I'm not sure I want to.
By the time I get home that night, the wildfire alerts have escalated. The fire has jumped the containment line, and the wind is pushing it northeast. Toward Valentine.
I check my phone obsessively while getting Maddie ready for bed. She senses my tension and climbs into my lap, wrapping her small arms around my neck.
"Daddy, are we safe?" she asks.
I hug her tight. "Yes, bug. We’re safe. I promise."
She nods against my shoulder, trusting me completely. That trust feels like both a gift and a weight I'm not sure I can carry.
After I tuck her in, I go back downstairs and talk to Piper, she hasn’t gone back to her rental yet, she’s still staying here with us.
“I want you to stay in my room and not in the guest room."
I trail off, and she raises an eyebrow. "Your room?"
"Not for.I just don't want you to be alone tonight, and I don't want to be alone either."
Her expression softens. "I would like that."
Relief floods through me.
It feels surreal, having her here in my space. Intimate in a way that has nothing to do with sex and everything to do with trust.
We get ready for bed in companionable silence. Even though she brought what looked like clothes, she borrows one of my T-shirts, and seeing her in it does something to my chest that I'm not prepared for.
When we finally climb into bed, she curls up on her side facing me, and I lie on my back staring at the ceiling.
"Thank you for letting me stay here with you," she says softly.
She reaches out and takes my hand, threading her fingers through mine. The simple contact anchors me in a way I did not know I needed.
"Dylan," she says after a moment. "Can I ask you something?"
"Of course."
"What scares you more? The fire, or losing someone again?"
The question cuts straight to the heart of it.
"Losing someone," I admit. "The fire is just the trigger, but the real fear is that I'll let someone in and then they’ll be taken from me. Again."
She squeezes my hand. "I can't promise that nothing bad will ever happen. But I can promise that I'm here right now, and I'm not planning on going anywhere."
I turn my head to look at her. In the dim light from the hallway, I can see the sincerity in her eyes.
"What about Seattle?" I ask quietly.
She hesitates. "I've not decided yet. But Dylan, even if I took that job, it doesn't mean I would be gone forever. We could figure it out."
"Could we?" I ask, and I hear the vulnerability in my own voice.
"I think so," she says. "If we both want to."
"I want to," I say without hesitation. "I want to try. I want to see where this goes. I want..."
I trail off, and she waits patiently.
"I want you," I finally say. "Not just for tonight. Not just until the fire is out. I want you in my life, in Maddie's life, and I want something that is real and lasting."
Her breath catches. "Dylan..."
"I know it's fast," I say quickly. "I know we’ve only known each other for a few weeks. But I also know that I've not felt this way about anyone since Sarah, and I don't want to waste time pretending I don't feel it."
She shifts closer until her forehead is resting against mine. "I feel it too," she whispers. "I'm scared out of my mind, but I feel it too."
I close the distance between us and kiss her. It's soft and slow and full of every promise I'm not brave enough to say out loud yet.
When we pull apart, she curls into my side, her head resting on my chest. I wrap my arm around her and hold her close, listening to the sound of her breathing as it slowly evens out.
For the first time in three years, I fall asleep with someone in my arms.
I wake to the sound of my phone buzzing aggressively on the nightstand.
I grab it, careful not to wake Piper, and see the alert flashing across the screen.
EVACUATION ORDER. VALENTINE RESIDENTS EVACUATE IMMEDIATELY. FIRE APPROACHING TOWN LIMITS.
My blood turns to ice.
"Piper," I say urgently, shaking her shoulder. "Piper, wake up."
She stirs, blinking up at me in confusion. "What?"
"Evacuation order," I say. "We have to go. Now."
She sits up immediately, all traces of sleep gone. "What about Maddie?"
"I'll get her," I say, already throwing on clothes. "Pack your bag. We leave in five minutes."
She nods and moves quickly, grabbing her things while I run down the hall to Maddie's room.
"Bug," I say gently, scooping her up from her bed. "We have to go on an adventure."
She blinks sleepily. "Where are we going?"
"To Grandma's house," I say, I know my mom's place is outside the evacuation zone. "It’ll be fun, like a sleepover."
She nods and wraps her arms around my neck, trusting me completely. “Is Piper coming too?”
“Yes, she is coming with us.”
“Good, I don’t want her to be in danger.” I kiss her on the head, she is such a thoughtful kid and she’s fallen for Piper, I hope that we can make things work between us, for me, but also for Maddie.
By the time I get back downstairs, Piper is already waiting by the door with both of our bags. Her face is pale, but her hands are steady.
"Ready?" I ask.
"Ready," she says.
We pile into my truck, and I drive toward the northern edge of town where my mom lives, the streets are chaotic.
There’re cars everywhere, people are shouting, there’s red and blue lights flashing from emergency vehicles.
The smell of smoke is thick in the air, and I can see the orange glow on the horizon growing brighter.
My hands grip the steering wheel so hard my knuckles turn white. This is exactly what I was afraid of. This is the nightmare I've been running from for three years. I try to breathe normally, in and out, in and out.
"Dylan," Piper says softly, placing her hand on my arm. "Breathe. We’re going to be okay."
I want to believe her, I want to believe that this time will be different, that this time I'll not lose someone I love to smoke and fire and chaos. But fear is a slippery thing, and it wraps around my chest like a vise.
We make it to my mom's house just as the evacuation sirens start wailing through town. My mom meets us at the door, her face tight with worry.
"Get inside," she says. "Quickly."
We do, and she immediately takes Maddie from my arms, hugging her tight.
"You’re staying here," she tells me. "All of you until this is over."
I nod, too shaken to argue.
Piper sets our bags down and turns to me. "Dylan, look at me."
I do.
"We made it," she says firmly. "We’re all safe. Everyone we love is safe."
I want to believe her, I want to let go of the fear that has been clawing at me since the alerts started, but my body is still vibrating with adrenaline, and my mind is still replaying the night I lost Sarah.
Piper steps closer and takes my face in her hands. "You did it you got us out. You kept us safe. That’s what matters."
Her words break something open inside me.
I pull her into my arms and hold her like she is the only thing keeping me tethered to the ground. She holds me back just as tightly, and I feel the tension slowly start to drain from my body.
"I love you," I say against her hair. "I love you, and I'm so damn grateful you are here."
She pulls back just enough to look up at me, tears shining in her eyes. "I love you too."
I kiss her, deep and desperate and full of relief. And for the first time since the alerts started, I let myself believe that maybe, just maybe, we’re going to be okay.