4. Ari
FOUR
ARI
Cael’s apartment was mismatched, but it worked. Old couch with new throw pillows, coffee table that probably came from his aunt, a bookshelf stuffed with video games and cheap paperbacks. The place smelled like microwave popcorn and barbecue chips, music playing low under the hum of the TV.
“Brendan Fraser could still get it,” Layton said, kicking his feet up on the arm of the couch.
“Facts,” Cael agreed, tossing a chip at him. “But Evie? Don’t talk to me unless you’re ready to fight.”
“She carried that whole movie,” Jon added. “Himbo energy from everyone else.”
“Bro, you’re literally a himbo,” Cael shot back.
“Yeah, but I’m self-aware. That’s growth.”
I was halfway through my drink, feet propped on the edge of the coffee table, phone buzzing with some group chat I wasn’t paying attention to. It was nice, this kind of stupid. No pressure, no plans. Just the kind of night that made summer feel like it might last forever if we didn’t mess it up.
Which, of course, meant someone was about to mess it up.
“I’m starving,” Jon groaned suddenly, stretching like it was a personal tragedy. “Do we have food? Somebody order something.”
“There’s stuff in the freezer,” Cael said. “Probably.”
Jon got up and shuffled toward the kitchen like a man on a mission. We all should’ve stopped him. We didn’t. That was on us.
“Ten bucks says it’s nothing but ice cubes in there,” I said, lifting my drink.
Cael snorted. “You wanna start putting bets on my grocery situation? I work for a living, thank you.”
“Yeah,” I said. “Living on frozen pizza and vibes.”
Jon came back into view, holding up a bag of chicken strips like he’d discovered buried treasure. “See? Protein. I got this.”
“Oh no,” Cael muttered. “No you don’t.”
“Relax,” Jon said, already tearing open the bag. “I’ll fry ‘em.”
“You don’t know how to fry shit ,” Cael shot back, already laughing. “Bro, you almost set my microwave on fire last week.”
“That wasn’t my fault. That was defective popcorn.”
“Sure.”
“I’m not eating anything you cook,” Kyree said, leaning back into the couch cushions. “Last time I almost needed a tetanus shot.”
Cael barked a laugh, booted foot nudging Kyree’s. “Don’t be dramatic.”
“Hey, you burn down the apartment, I’m not covering for you,” Layton warned.
“You love me,” Jon said, flashing a grin like charm could make up for stupidity.
“Not enough to die in a chicken strip fire.”
I stayed where I was, watching the argument with the detached amusement of someone who knew better but wasn’t quite invested enough to intervene.
Jon just shrugged and wandered back toward the kitchen, which was mostly blocked off by a partial wall.
The Mummy droned on, the volume too low to catch more than bits of dialogue. There was the faint scrape of a pan dragging across the stove. Then more clattering. Jon’s humming, tuneless.
I was halfway to jokingly telling him to shut up when I heard the first pop.
Not loud, but sharp enough to make me sit up straighter.
“What the?—”
Jon’s screech followed, high and panicked. “Shit, shit?—”
“Jesus Christ,” Cael muttered, already shoving up off the couch and practically launching over the coffee table.
I was right behind him, Kyree and Layton scrambling up next, tripping over each other as they bolted after us.
Another pop—louder this time. A wet, angry crack hitting something it shouldn’t.
The smell hit. Thick, heavy, greasy. The kind of smell that clings to your hair for days. And then smoke. Not much at first. Just a curling ribbon spilling around the entrance of the kitchen.
Jon stood frozen by the stove, spatula hanging useless, panic wide across his face. Flames licked up the wall behind the burners, turning cheap wallpaper into bubbling plastic, spitting oil in violent pops.
“What the hell, bro?!” Cael barked, shoving Jon out of the way with a wild swipe of his arm.
“I didn’t know it was gonna do that! ” Jon shrieked, stumbling sideways. “It said pan fry on the package!”
“Yeah, after you defrost it!” Cael snapped. He tried grabbing the handle, barehanded. His shout of pain snapped like a whip.
Kyree coughed hard behind me, dragging his shirt up over his nose. “What the fuck?—”
“Water,” Layton said, eyes wide. “Do we throw water on it?”
“NO!” Cael and I shouted together.
The smoke alarm finally started screaming overhead, way too late to be useful.
I was already scanning the room for something—anything—that could help. Dish towel? No, too flammable. Fire extinguisher? Did Cael even own one?
No, probably not.
Then the banging started.
“Cael! Open up!”
The sound of his voice hit low in my chest, like a chord struck too hard, the vibration reverberating under my ribs.
Daddy.
“What the fuck—” Layton started, but before he could finish, the door shoved open with a jolt, the frame rattling against the hinges. Old wood, swollen from too many humid summers, made it louder than it needed to be, but it wasn’t locked.
Bootsteps—heavy, sure—crossed the threshold.
And then he was filling the entrance of the kitchen. Backward ball cap on, sweat darkening the neckline of his T-shirt, expression flat except for that flicker of something brewing behind his eyes.
That old ache curled low in my stomach—not the raw, wild crush of sixteen-year-old me, but something older, worn-in. I hated that I still felt it at all.
One glance, that’s all he needed. His eyes swept the kitchen—pan, flames licking up, smoke curling greasy around the ceiling.
“Everybody out. Now. ”
His voice was calm. Calm in that way that made you listen.
Jon was already halfway to the entrance. Kyree pulled at Layton’s sleeve, dragging him along.
Cael hesitated, teeth clenched like he wanted to argue—but Daddy didn’t give him the chance. He was already moving, cutting across the floor, crouching near the stove, yanking the lower cabinet open.
He grabbed a large lid and dropped it straight over the pan, movements quick and efficient.
The flames spat once, angry and wild—but the lid smothered them, choking the fire down.
“Windows. Open them,” Daddy barked, already flicking off the burner with two fingers.
I heard the guys moving around, windows creaking open. I was just a step back from the kitchen entrance, my phone clenched in my hand.
Daddy didn’t look at me right away. He was busy, making sure the fire stayed out.
Sirens wailed in the distance.
Finally, Daddy straightened, glanced over, eyes on me. Measuring. Knowing.
“You good?”
I nodded. Swallowed. Managed, “Yeah.”
His gaze softened—not much, but enough that I felt it.
The smoke alarm kept wailing, sharp and insistent.
Daddy grabbed the edge of a dish towel hanging nearby and stepped closer to the window.
“It’s got a sensor,” he said, voice calm but loud over the shriek. “Move the smoke, and it’ll stop.”
I didn’t know that. Never thought about how alarms actually worked—just that they screamed when you burned toast.
He stretched up one long arm and swept toward the open window. His fingertips just short of the ceiling, muscles shifting under his T-shirt with the motion.
The sirens were closer now. And, mercifully, the alarm gave a hiccup and fell silent, leaving nothing but the sticky press of summer heat and the low, steady rumble of an engine outside. Not the sharp wail of sirens anymore.
“Let’s go,” Daddy said quietly, with a nod toward the living room. “They’ll want to see the space.”
I followed him out.
The front door stood open. Two firefighters were already at the entrance, guys I knew worked with Daddy. Daddy stepped aside to let them through, giving a rapid, clipped summary. “Kitchen fire. Grease. Contained with a lid. Smoke’s clearing. No visible spread.”
One of them, Ledger, gave him a nod—professional, but with that quick flick of recognition between people who’d worked side by side before. “We’ll check it.”
The second firefighter, Keaton, gave the rest of us a quick once-over. Just making sure we all had our limbs and eyebrows, probably. He followed his partner into the kitchen without another word.
Daddy gave us a once-over, his voice low. “Anyone hurt?”
Cael nodded first. “We’re okay.”
Jon dragged a hand down his face. “I owe everyone chicken strips. And probably my entire paycheck.”
That got a rough laugh out of Layton, more breath than sound. “Man...”
Cael bumped Jon’s shoulder, eyes on the floor. “Chaos gremlin.”
But there was no heat in it.
Daddy’s gaze shifted to Jon for a beat—just long enough for something to click behind his eyes. His expression didn’t change much, but I caught the faint crease between his brows. Reading the room. Putting things together.
Daddy's gaze landed on me. “Need a word with you.”
It wasn’t the words that got me—it was the weight of them. Steady. Certain. Like everything in the last ten minutes had been sideways, and Daddy was the only thing standing upright.
My heart gave one of those annoying, traitorous kicks, the kind I’d been fighting off since I was sixteen.
“Yeah,” I said. “Okay.”
I followed him out onto the landing.
Daddy didn’t say anything at first, just let the door ease shut behind us with a soft click. The streetlight cast his face in shadow, angled at the edges, soft at the mouth.
“I’m fine, by the way,” I said lightly. “Thanks for asking.”
“You will be.”
Oh.
That shouldn’t have gone straight to my knees, and my cock. But here we were.
Daddy hooked his thumb toward the door. “That was reckless.”
“Technically, it was Jon’s recklessness. I was just an innocent bystander.”
His mouth twitched—just a little. “Innocent, huh?”
“I can be.”
Daddy’s gaze held steady on mine. “Open the windows, wipe down the stove, and you’ll be fine.”
“Look at you,” I said, letting it come out light, teasing. “Full of domestic wisdom.”
Something flickered at the corner of his mouth again. Not quite a smile, but close enough that I felt it like static just under my skin.
“I cook,” he said. “Without setting things on fire.”
“That’s a special skill around here.”
His brow lifted just a fraction. “Learn it.”
Simple. Direct. A challenge, almost. My chest did that stupid tightening thing again, like my whole body was paying attention now.
Before I could say something I’d regret—or worse, something embarrassing—he gave a nod toward the door. “Go check on your friends.”
“Giving orders now?” I asked, light and teasing, but something in my chest tightened in a way I didn’t want to think about yet.
“Giving more advice,” he corrected. “You can take it or not.”
“Are you gonna make me?”
Another twitch of those kissable lips. “Don’t tempt me.”
I knew I should’ve stopped. But I never had much self-control around him.
“Yeah?” I murmured. “What if I want to?”
That made him go still. Just for a second. Not angry—not even annoyed. Just... steady again. Same way he was when he walked into the fire like it was nothing.
His voice went lower. “Careful, Ari.”
I smiled, because that? That sounded a lot like a promise. But something tugged at the back of my mind, nagging a little louder now that the adrenaline had worn off.
“Hey,” I said. “How’d you even get there so fast? I mean… the alarm barely went off before you were walking through the door.”
Reid’s eyes crinkled with that warm, quiet smile that always got me. “Had a weekly delivery to make at the Santanas’.” He shrugged. “Some things just line up when they’re meant to.”
Yeah, I knew the Santanas. They’d been a staple in this small town since forever.
But something tugged in my chest—hard and sharp and full of ache.
He said it so casually, like it was just timing, just errands, just one of those things.
But I felt it somewhere deep, in that place where I’d tucked every wish I’d ever had about him.
Where I still kept the hope that maybe, one day, I’d mean as much to him as he’s always meant to me.
My throat went tight.
“You just happened to be dropping off a delivery when Jon decided to light the place on fire?”
“Briar Creek’s not exactly a metropolis, baby.”
The ‘baby’ was casual. Dangerous. Like he didn’t even know it made my pulse skip.
“Still,” I muttered, “feels like fate.”
“Or maybe I just keep showing up for you.”
That shut me right up. Mostly because my knees were back to being useless again.
But also because… yeah. That was it, wasn’t it?
He always showed up. Even when I didn’t ask. Even when I didn’t know I needed it.
Even when I didn’t know how to ask.
My chest went tight in the best kind of way. I couldn’t find words big enough to hold the feeling. So I just stood there, heart hammering like I was sixteen and he’d just glanced my way.
Reid’s gaze didn’t waver. “Good night.”
It wasn’t a dismissal—it was a promise. A dare . Laced with that bossy, quiet Daddy edge that made my skin tingle.
I swallowed hard.
Smiled slow.
“Sure,” I murmured. “Sleep tight, hero.”
Then I stepped inside, closed the door behind me, and leaned against it, heart thudding like I’d just touched something holy.
Because maybe I had.