Chapter 15
In my twenty-four years, I’ve been to two of The Fallen Firefighters events. Both times I’ve come with my parents and brothers. But tonight, I’m standing without any of them beside me.
Huxley Bay Manor hosts the event every year in their ballroom. I take in the shimmering light from the multiple chandeliers above my head.
My eyes track those just arriving, taking a glass of champagne from a silver platter presented to them.
I’m standing a few feet away from the long, curved bar near the back of the room, leaning against the creamy white pillar away from the crowd.
Growing up, my mom always said I was my dad’s shadow. I can still picture myself in yellow rain boots, a garden hose in one hand, and my red fire engine hat on my head, pretending to fight fires.
People always thought I’d follow in his footsteps. None of my brothers did. They joined the family business on my mom’s side, but Dad was never disappointed. He always said his job wasn’t his legacy.
We were.
When I traded my firefighter hat for a hockey puck at four years old, he told me he was proud of me for finding my own dream.
I’m ejected out of my thoughts when Hayes clears his throat, like he’s been trying to get my attention for a while.
“Hey, man, thanks for coming,” I say.
Hayes nods. “Always, brother, always.”
I’ve known Hayes for a long time. It’s not a surprise he’s here tonight. Guilt rushes through me for ignoring most of his messages and calls—and pushing him and the others away for as long as I did.
Hayes steps closer, sensing my tension, and pulls me into a man hug.
“You did what you had to do,” he says. “Grief is complicated. Everyone deals with it differently, even if we don’t agree with their methods.”
His words stretch further than just my family’s absence at tonight’s event. He’s talking about me not being around since the accident. I know he’s not bringing it up to hold it against me. It’s a reminder that he’s here for me.
“I know they’re still grieving, but I really thought they’d show,” I say.
Before Hayes can comment, Oliver and Austin appear with drinks in hand.
“From Rudy,” Oliver says, offering me a glass. “He couldn’t make it. He’s with Hank.”
“Everything okay between them?” I ask, wondering why Rudy would need to have a sit down with his agent.
“Yeah. Hank’s wife took a fall. Rudy just wants to be there to support them,” Oliver assures me.
“So, where’s your girl?” Austin asks.
Those two words—your girl—have me relaxing instantly.
I pull out my phone, finding her last text. She’s running late because of a few follow-up questions Ink and Print called to ask her, but she’s on her way.
A mic squeaks, and I glance up to see Jim, the battalion chief, stepping up to make a speech.
“Thank you for being here tonight to honor the brave men and women who fought to protect and serve. To the families who are here tonight, missing loved ones, you’re not alone. You will always have family within the Huxley Bay Fire Department. Thank you.”
As the crowd applauds, a screen lights up behind Jim showing photos of the fallen. The third picture is my dad.
“I’m gonna get some air.” I’m moving before anyone can respond.
I slip out of the ballroom and walk down the corridor to the elevators, pushing the button. The second I’m inside and the doors close, I let out a frustrated breath and thump my fist against the wall.
When will this get easier?
I swipe my face with a hand and push the button for the elevator to take me from the lower ground floor where the ballroom is located to the lobby.
The elevator hums as it moves upward, lifting me away from the clinking glasses and conversations. When the doors open, a familiar scent of peaches and mangos surrounds me.
My mouth dries. I’m as parched as the Sahara Desert when my gaze lands on her.
Erin.
The green floor-length dress hugs her perfectly. My eyes rake up her satin-covered body, ready to meet her beautiful deep brown eyes, only to find that she’s totally checking me out.
“Hey, Bookworm,” I greet as I step off the elevator but keep an arm back to keep the doors from closing. “You made it.”
She doesn’t respond at first. Her eyes roam over my tailored suit—my arms, torso, and lips. When our eyes finally lock, her delicate little throat bobs as she swallows. The action is painfully slow.
“Hi,” she whispers.
“Careful, baby. You keep looking at me like that and your dress is gonna end up on the floor of this elevator.”
Her breath hitches.
“You look phenomenal, Erin,” I tell her, giving her a peck on her cheek.
“Y-you…clean up pretty good too, Eighty-Seven,” she rushes out. “Were you stepping out?” She gestures behind her to the lobby.
“Not anymore.” I extend my hand out to her. She places her tiny palm in mine, letting me pull her into my arms. When her hands wrap around me, I already know she’s everything I need.
“I’m sorry I’m late,” she says, stepping out of my hold.
“I’m glad you’re here,” I tell her. “Everyone is really looking forward to meeting you.”
“Everyone?”
I grin. “The Tornadoes Bitches minus Rudy. He had an emergency. Brax and Roman will be here, too.”
She snorts, covering her mouth. “The Tornadoes Bitches?”
“Yep.”
We ride the elevator back to the ballroom. I guide her through the chatter and music as she takes in the sea of people. She’s clearly wary of the crowd and steps closer to me.
“You’ll always be safe, Bookworm,” I murmur, offering my hand. She takes it, and I gently lead her to the back of the room where the guys are still standing.
They all turn, eyes locking in on Erin as if they’ve been waiting for this moment.
“Guys, this is Erin.” I introduce her like she’s mine. “Bookworm, meet Hayes, Austin, and Oliver.”
“Hi,” she squeaks, offering an awkward wave.
Austin’s hand reaches out first. My brave girl lifts her trembling one to shake it. I take a step closer, my hand resting on the small of her back, letting her know that I’m right next to her and there’s no reason to be nervous.
“It’s nice to meet you, Erin,” Austin says.
“Y-you too, Austin.”
When her voice wavers, I’m half inclined to lift her up into my arms and carry her to a place where we can be alone together.
“Glad you could be here, Erin,” Hayes says, giving her a wink.
“Hi, Hayes,” she says, her voice steadier this time.
“So, you’re Harper’s girl.” Oliver beams, showing off his mischievous grin. “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” he says, dipping his head a little. “Did your boy tell you the rules?”
“Rules?” she repeats.
“If you’re going to be part of our Tornado squad, you’re gonna need a nickname.”
“You want me to have a n-nickname?” she stammers, and my stomach flips, the height of her vulnerability hitting me harder than I expect.
“Of course,” Hayes exclaims. “‘Part of the ship, part of the crew.’”
“Pirates of the Caribbean,” Erin replies.
“Bingo.” Hayes grins.
“Um, okay,” Erin mutters. “What are your nicknames?”
Oliver grins. “Flashheart,” he says, patting his chest. “Fastest skater in the league, and a lover in the—”
“Stinger,” Austin says, cutting Oliver off with a shove. “Step into my crease and you’ll get stung. Goalie,” he adds.
“Papa Bear. I’m the glue that holds this whole mess together,” Hayes says with a shrug, his tone playful.
“And the voice of reason,” I say, nudging Erin with my elbow.
“Yeah, someone’s gotta be.” Hayes smirks back, a little twinkle in his eye.
“He’s the dad of the group.” Oliver grins. “The ladies go feral for him, but he’s not a real DILF…yet.”
Laughter spills out of Erin, easing some of the tension in the air. I catch myself watching her, enjoying how she fits in like she’s always belonged here.
“What about Rudy?” she asks.
“Pouty, especially when he’s missing out,” Austin responds.
Erin turns to face me, eyes sparkling. “And you?”
Oliver jumps in without offering an explanation. “Pretty Boy.”
“Pretty Boy.” She hums approvingly.
“Hey,” I say, leaning closer. “It’s Eighty-Seven to you, Bookworm.”
Or feel free to call me your future boyfriend. Hell, I don’t care what you call me. As long as it’s yours, I’ll be pretty damn happy.
“So, Erin. What will it be?” Oliver asks.
Her nose scrunches as she thinks, and it’s damn cute watching her concentrate on a silly detail like a nickname.
“I like night the most,” she says. “I like being cozy and surrounded by blankets and cushions. “And books. I like books.”
Now all I can think about is a very naked Erin, lying in my bed wearing nothing but my bedsheets as she reads.
Fuck, that’s hot.
“Can you help?” she asks Oliver.
Oliver snaps his fingers. “Got it. Welcome to the club, Night Owl.”
It gets a nod of approval from Hayes and a double thumbs-up from Austin.
She turns to me. “Do you like it?”
I take in the sparkle in her eyes. “It’s perfect.”
Just like you.
“Oh, look, it’s Braxy,” Oliver sings. “He’s part of the club too, but he’ll deny it.”
Erin turns and backs up as she takes in the six-foot-six beast of a man decked out in an all-black suit.
“Gentlemen,” Brax says cooly. His gaze moves to my girl. “Hey, you must be Erin.”
She straightens. “Uh, yeah, hi.”
Brax smirks and sticks out his hand. “I’ve heard a lot about you from my brother. I’m Brax.”
A war cry erupts from behind him.
“ARGGGHH! TAKE DOWN!” A blur crashes into the backs of Brax’s knees with an oomph.
Roman.
Brax, who is built like a wall, barely flinches.
“Daaaaaad,” Roman whines, his voice high-pitched and dripping with frustration. “You’re s’post to fall over.”
“You gotta hit harder than that, buddy.” Brax chuckles, a deep rumble of laughter vibrating from him as he looks down at his son.
I squat to Roman’s level and ruffle his dark brown curly mop of hair before I lift him into my arms.
“Erin, meet my godson, Roman—nickname Firestorm. He’s the Hulk’s son, a part-time wrestler, the best gamer around, and the future MVP of baseball.”
Roman’s deep brown eyes glow with pride as if he’s the most important person in the room and sticks his hand out.