Chapter 14 #2
"We'll go at your pace," I promise. "Slow, fast, whatever you need, we follow. Even if things get overwhelming and you want to pause, you say the word."
"Just like that?"
"Just like that."
"What if I panic? Run? What if I can't—"
"Then we wait. We adjust. We figure it out." My hand is still on her cheek, and she's leaning into it slightly. "Just don't shut us out. That's all I ask. Talk to us, even when it's hard."
"I promise to try."
"That's all anyone can do."
The moment stretches, warm and soft like her bread dough, full of possibility. Then the oven timer goes off, shrill and demanding, and we both jump.
"Shit, the croissants!" She leaps up, grabs oven mitts, pulls out trays of golden perfection.
I check the time. "Shit, I need to go. Morning briefing."
"Right. Of course. Fire captain duties."
We stand there awkwardly, neither moving toward the door.
"This was nice," she says finally.
"Yeah. It was."
"Maybe we could do it again? The coffee and talking part, not the emotional vulnerability before 7 AM part."
"I'm free most mornings. Except when things are on fire."
"Convenient that you're a firefighter then."
"Very convenient."
Just leave. Stop standing here like an idiot. You're going to be late.
I make it to the door before she calls out.
"Rowan?"
I turn back.
"I think about you too," she says quietly. "A lot. Probably more than is healthy or appropriate."
Fuck.
My brain completely short-circuits. I forget how doors work, how walking works, how breathing works. I back out of the bakery, miss the step, stumble backward trying to catch myself, and—
SPLASH
The puddle is deeper than it looks. And colder. And muddier.
I'm flat on my ass in dirty water, uniform soaked, dignity somewhere in the storm drain.
Hazel's laugh is bright and shocked and perfect. "Oh my god! Are you okay?"
"Fine," I groan. "Just my pride. And my uniform. And possibly my spine."
"Oh this is PERFECT!"
Reverie fucking Bell appears from nowhere, phone already out, camera clicking. "The mighty fire captain, brought low by feelings and weather! This is going straight to the blog!"
"Reverie, no—"
"Reverie YES! The people need to see that their Alpha heroes are actually disaster humans!" She's practically glowing with glee. "The caption writes itself: 'Local Fire Captain Falls for Baker—Literally!'"
"I will arrest you," I threaten, struggling to stand.
"On what charges?"
"Harassment. Stalking. General evil."
"Those aren't real charges."
"They should be."
Hazel is trying not to laugh, hand over her mouth, but her eyes are sparkling. "You should probably go change."
"You think?" I gesture at my soaked uniform. "This isn't the new fashion?"
"Wet Alpha is very last season," Reverie informs me. "Though I bet it'll trend again after I post this."
I groan, squelch my way to standing. "This conversation never happened."
"Oh, it definitely happened. I have photographic evidence."
"Hazel, control your friend."
"Nobody controls Reverie. She's a force of nature."
"A force for chaos."
"That too," Reverie agrees cheerfully. "Now shoo, Captain Puddles. Some of us have viral content to create."
I wave goodbye, trying to maintain some dignity while water streams from my uniform. Hazel waves back, still fighting laughter, and something warm unfolds in my chest despite the cold puddle water in my boots.
"Rowan?" she calls again.
"Yeah?"
"Saturday? Maybe dinner? Somewhere dry?"
She's asking me on a date. An actual date.
"Saturday," I agree immediately. "I promise not to fall in any puddles."
"I'll believe it when I see it."
I squelch my way back to the station, leaving wet footprints and probably my dignity, but I'm grinning like an idiot.
She thinks about me. Wants to date me. All of us.
Jenkins looks up when I enter, takes in my soaked uniform, and immediately pulls out his phone. "Dude, what happened?"
"Gravity."
"Gravity made you wet?"
"Gravity and feelings are a dangerous combination."
"I need details. The group chat NEEDS details."
"The group chat needs to mind its own business."
But I'm still smiling, even as I change into my spare uniform, even as the morning briefing turns into a roast session, even as my phone blows up with notifications about Reverie's post.
Because Hazel Holloway wants to love us.
Slowly, carefully, at her own pace.
But still. Love.
Worth every puddle in Oakridge.
The day stretches ahead—training drills, equipment checks, probably at least one call about Mrs. Patterson's cat—but all I can think about is Saturday. About the possibility of actual dates, actual time, actual chance to show her we're worth the risk.
My phone buzzes.
Text from Luca:
LUCA: Saw the puddle video. Smooth.
Then Levi:
LEVI: Ten bucks says I can make it through a whole date without falling in something.
ME: Twenty says you spill something on her instead.
LEVI: Deal. May the best Alpha win.
LUCA: May we all win.
And maybe we will. Maybe this impossible thing—three Alphas, one omega, an entire town watching—might actually work.
But first, I need to figure out how to get through a date without falling into anything.
Probably impossible. But for her? Worth trying.