28. Going to Bat for Love
GOING TO BAT FOR LOVE
Addison
T he transition from outside activities to evening activities allows me just enough time to pull on a dress, arrange my hair, and apply my makeup.
When I walk into the firehouse, I am floored, it is completely transformed.
String lights drape across the rafters, their warm glow reflecting off shiny tables covered in crisp white tablecloths.
The faint scent of barbecue fills the air.
It’s perfect. And, okay, a little terrifying.
Guests mingle, raffle tickets fly off the tables, and the band shifts into an upbeat tune that gets a few brave souls dancing. I’m making my rounds, checking on volunteers and answering questions, when I feel a hand on my arm.
“Addison,” Dylan’s voice says behind me.
I turn, and there he is. He’s wearing a dark suit that fits him a little too perfectly, and his tie is slightly loosened, as if he’s just finished saving the world.
“Hey,” I say, my voice coming out softer than I intend.
“You look…” He pauses, his gaze sweeping over me. “Incredible.”
“Thanks,” I say, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. “You clean up pretty well yourself.”
He grins, but there’s something serious in his eyes. “Addy, you made this happen,” he says, low and certain. “Even with the dunk tank drama. Even with Gerald trying to tank the whole thing.”
I giggle at his pun. “I had help,” I say, nudging him. “You did save the pie station.”
“Just following your lead.”
I wave him off, feeling heat creep up my neck. “It’s a team effort.”
“Still,” he says, his voice dropping a little. “Thank you.”
We’re standing near the silent auction table, Dylan’s hand casually brushing mine, when I spot a familiar figure across the crowd. Crisp blazer. Confident stride. Smile like it’s been rehearsed in a mirror.
Simon.
I stiffen, just slightly. Dylan notices instantly.
“Ex incoming?” he murmurs.
“Even worse. A realtor,” I say.
Simon weaves through the crowd with practiced ease, stopping just short of us. His gaze lands on Dylan for half a second before turning to me.
“Addison,” he says smoothly. “Impressive turnout.”
I offer a polite smile. “Glad you think so.”
He shifts, looking almost genuine. “I… wanted to say congratulations. This event... it’s clearly a success. You’ve done a fantastic job.”
I blink. That’s dangerously close to an apology. At least as close as Simon Baxter gets.
“Thanks,” I say, tone even. “It helps when you work with the right people.”
He has the decency to wince. “I might’ve underestimated how determined you are, and the company you keep.”
I feel Dylan stiffen beside me, taking a defensive stance.
“Again,” I reply coolly, “not new information.”
He chuckles awkwardly. “Well. Good luck with the rest of it.”
As he turns to leave, Dylan raises a brow. “That was civil.”
I exhale, tension easing from my shoulders. “He didn’t even bring up the TikTok shenanigans. Personal growth, maybe?”
“Or cowardice,” Dylan mutters.
I laugh. “Maybe both.”
He nudges me. “You okay?”
“Yeah. I am.” I glance at him, then smile. “You know, he did text me last week.”
Dylan groans. “Please tell me you blocked him this time.”
“Nope.” I grin. “I screenshot Mr Langford’s testimonial and hit mute. Very mature. Very smug.”
He leans closer. “That’s my girl.”
I arch a brow. “Still not your girl, firefighter.”
“Working on it.”
There’s a moment. A quiet one. The noise of the room fades, and it’s just us. I open my mouth to say something, but the bandleader steps up to the mic and starts speaking.
“Ladies and gentlemen, thank you all for coming tonight to support Birch Harbor’s bravest. We’ve had an incredible turnout, and this community’s generosity is truly special. But before we continue with the evening, we have a special treat. Dylan, would you like to take it from here?”
My eyebrows shoot up. “What’s going on?”
Dylan flashes me a sheepish grin. “You’ll see.”
Before I can protest, he steps onto the small stage, taking the mic from the bandleader.
“Alright, everyone,” he says, his voice carrying through the room. “I promise I won’t keep you long. I want to thank everyone who made this night possible, especially Addison Bennett.”
The crowd claps politely, but my cheeks burn as dozens of heads turn toward me.
“Addison didn’t just plan a fundraiser two weeks after the wedding of the year. She led us through a storm, literally and metaphorically. She kept this event stitched together with spreadsheets, willpower, and more maple pie than anyone thought humanly possible.
“And when the dunk tank got denied and half our signage was stuck in transit, she didn’t flinch. She just solved it. Quietly. Fiercely. That’s who she is.”
Dylan pauses. “And I thought she deserved something special since she worked so hard.”
He nods to the band, and the opening chords of “Can’t Take My Eyes Off You” fill the room. My heart stops.
He’s not going to…
He wouldn’t.
But he does.
Dylan starts singing, his voice low and slightly rough at first but growing steadier with each word. The room erupts into laughter and cheers, and I feel frozen in place, equal parts mortified and charmed.
As he gets to the chorus, he steps off the stage, mic in hand, and walks toward me. My eyes widen and I shake my head, but he just grins, holding out a hand.
“Dance with me,” he says, not a plea, not a challenge. Just a moment offered, open and easy.
I don’t hesitate. I set down my binder and slide my hand into his without missing a beat.
“Only if you promise not to dip me into the dessert table.”
He grins, tugging me gently forward. “No promises. You look like something worth falling for.”
“You’re such a menace,” I whisper, already smiling.
“And you’re still here,” he murmurs, pulling me closer.
I don’t pull away.
The crowd parts, giving us space, and suddenly it’s just us. The band takes over for the second verse.
“You’re too young to know about this,” I say, laughing as he spins me.
“Know what?” he asks, his grin teasing.
“This song,” I say, laughing despite myself. “It’s from 10 Things I Hate About You . It’s my favorite movie.”
“I’m the youngest in my family, with three older sisters. I know things,” he says, leaning in closer. “But that doesn’t mean I can’t learn about you, what makes you Addison.”
His voice softens, and the air feels heavy between us. “… and how to fit into your life.”
I look up at him, my breath catching. “Dylan…”
“Don’t say no. Not yet.”
For a moment, I forget about the crowd, the event, everything. All I can see is him, his eyes full of something I can’t quite name but I can feel all the same.
The song ends, and the room bursts into applause, pulling us back to reality. Dylan steps back slightly, his hand still holding mine.
“Well?” he asks, his grin returning.
I shake my head, laughing. “You’re impossible.”
“Impossible to say no to?” he says, eyebrows wiggling.
He’s right, I can’t say no. To him. To us. To the world knowing about us, or at least our towns.
I lean into him.
His lips meet mine in a soft, confident kiss, like a promise. The crowd erupts into cheers, but I barely hear it. All I can feel is him.
When we finally break apart, his forehead rests against mine, and he grins, just a little smug.
“So,” I say, when the cheers die down. “Ready to tally up the auction totals, pie sales, and probably fix one more ‘urgent’ bathroom sign?”
Dylan chuckles. “You mean the ‘Official Firefighter Relief Station’ one Leah renamed?”
I grin. “Exactly.”
Because love is great. But tonight, we’re still running a fundraiser. And I’m still Addison Bennett, the woman who doesn’t run. Not anymore.