Epilogue
CORD
The second we stepped out of the truck and onto the grass, Liam took off like a shot toward the obstacle course.
“Watch me, Cord!” he shouted over his shoulder, that plastic fire helmet from last year’s fall festival still somehow in one piece and wedged onto his head like battle gear.
I lifted a hand. “I’m watching, rookie!”
He zigzagged between two cones, arms pumping like he was on a mission, then paused dramatically before the hose-pull station. There was already a line of kids gathering, but he looked back just once to make sure I was still watching. Like he needed the nod.
I gave it.
Next to me, Lucy laughed softly, shaking her head as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “He’s been talking about this all week,” she said. “Said he needed to train.”
“He’s ready,” I said, and I meant it.
She turned that smile on me then, and I forgot what humidity was. Forgot how the back of my shirt stuck to my spine. Forgot that I used to come to these picnics solo, hovering around the grill or hiding behind coolers just to avoid small talk .
Now I was walking in with Lucy at my side and Liam leading the charge like he owned the damn place.
And somehow… it all made sense.
It had been less than a year, but already it felt like before was the strange part.
The loner routine, the self-imposed distance—that had been survival mode.
This? This was life. Real life. With noise and sticky hands and small victories, like watching a seven-year-old conquer an inflatable wall while you held your breath like it mattered.
Because it did.
I glanced at Lucy again. She wore jean shorts and a soft blue top that made her look like summer. Sunglasses pushed up into her hair. Flip-flops, even though I’d warned her about the grass being a minefield of garden hose and sprinkler lines.
She was here, hand brushing mine as we walked, like she didn’t even have to think about it anymore.
My fingers twitched, instinctively brushing hers back. I caught the curl of her smile when I did.
She didn’t know it, but there was a ring box tucked deep in my sock drawer at home. I’d stared at it more times than I wanted to admit. Picked it up. Put it back.
I wasn’t proposing today. But I was thinking about it. Hard. Because some things stop feeling like a gamble and start feeling like gravity. And Lucy Sullivan? She was the pull I hadn’t seen coming.
Liam lined up at the kid-sized hose station like he was reporting for duty. I crouched behind him, showing him how to adjust his grip, bracing the nozzle so he wouldn’t soak the poor volunteer holding the cardboard “flames” cutout.
“Okay, little man,” I said, grinning. “Aim for the fire, not the person.”
He nodded like I’d handed him classified orders. “Copy that.”
He squeezed the handle with all the strength his seven-year-old arms could muster. A spurt of water arced out, clipped the edge of a cardboard house, and splashed right over onto Twitch’s boots.
From across the lane, Twitch yelped, leaping back like he’d just hit a live wire. Liam burst into delighted giggles.
I glanced over and gave him a helpless shrug. “Hazard of the job.”
“You’re dead to me, Hollywood,” Twitch called back—but he was grinning as he said it.
Lucy was chatting nearby with a cluster of department spouses and girlfriends, laughing at something one of them said. She looked like she belonged there—hands gesturing as she talked, that quick, easy smile lighting up her face.
Someone nudged me from behind. I turned to find Donkey grinning like he knew something I didn’t.
“You know, last fall, you were the reigning bachelor of the year,” he said, balancing a plate of ribs and coleslaw like a professional. “Now look at you. Hose duty and juice boxes.”
I huffed a laugh. “What can I say? I upgraded.”
He laughed, wandered off toward the grill.
But he wasn’t wrong.
If you’d told me a year ago I’d be here—at the fire department’s annual picnic, in the middle of a makeshift kid-zone, helping a seven-year-old win a foam hat for dousing fake flames—I would’ve laughed in your face.
But I didn’t feel out of place. I felt… settled. Steady.
Liam tugged my sleeve. “Did I win?”
I leaned down. “Buddy, you crushed it.”
His whole face lit up. He beamed like I’d handed him a trophy, and I swear something in my chest cracked wide open again. It did that a lot with this kid, proving my heart could grow three sizes, Grinch-style, on the regular .
We’d just settled under the tent near the lemonade table when I caught a flicker of movement out by the parking lot. I handed Lucy her drink—she kissed my cheek without thinking, which still short-circuited something in my chest—and followed her line of sight.
A tall woman in jeans and sunglasses was walking across the grass like she had a mission. Not fast, not urgent. Just… intentional. She scanned the crowd, expression hidden by dark lenses, but I didn’t need to see her eyes to know the second they landed on Lucy.
Because that’s when Lucy lit up.
“Gillian,” she breathed, already setting her drink down and sprinting across the grass.
I watched as she threw her arms around the woman, laughing like her whole body remembered her. That kind of hug said shared secrets and the kind of best-friend bond people built whole lifetimes around.
I stayed back, sipping my lemonade and pretending not to stare while Lucy tugged her toward me.
“Cord,” she said, still half-glowing, “this is Gillian Holliday—my best friend and the reason I didn’t become a full-on feral raccoon in high school.”
“Hey now,” Gillian said, slipping off her sunglasses with a grin that was all confidence and curiosity. “You were halfway there. I just taught you how to weaponize it.”
Her eyes landed on me—sharp, assessing, but not unkind. “So you’re the famous Cord. I’ve been hearing about you since the firefighter auction. Hottest thing on two feet, according to half the text messages I got.”
Lucy groaned. “Please stop talking.”
I held out a hand. “And you must be the corruptor of youth and keeper of all embarrassing stories. ”
She laughed and shook my hand. “I like him.”
Lucy draped an arm around Gillian’s shoulders. “What are you doing in town?”
“I’m here to visit with Gramps for a couple weeks. And of course, I had to lay eyes on your new hotness.”
They fell into banter like they’d never missed a beat. Gillian’s presence pulled a brighter version of Lucy out of hiding—less teacher, less mom, more woman with a whole damn life. I loved seeing it.
I turned to grab the extra lemonade, but something out by the grill caught my attention.
Rivera.
He was still as a statue, standing just off to the side near the drinks cooler. Face unreadable. Shoulders tight. And his eyes?
Locked on Gillian.
It wasn’t curiosity or the usual calculated calm. It was… something else. Something cracked wide open and still trying to glue itself back together.
I didn’t say anything. But I filed that reaction away. Because something about the way he looked at her said unfinished business. And for a guy like Rivera? That meant more than he’d ever say out loud.
The sun had dipped below the treetops, leaving behind that warm, dusky glow that always made the fireflies come out early.
We were stretched across a worn picnic blanket near the edge of the field, the main rush of the picnic long since passed.
The grill was quiet. Most of the crowd had thinned.
Kids were winding down or getting bundled into cars.
Even Rivera had finally passed off cleanup duty to one of the rookies and vanished somewhere toward the edge of the clearing.
Lucy lay beside me, her head tucked against my shoulder, her hand curled under my arm like it belonged there.
Liam was passed out on her other side, mouth open, cheeks sticky with the last of the watermelon slices.
Blaze, the blue dragon, rested on his chest like a loyal guard dog, his tiny fingers still tangled in its plush wing.
I shifted just enough to kiss the top of Lucy’s head.
She hummed and nuzzled closer, her voice low and sleepy. “You ever think about how weird it is that we met because of a charity auction?”
I huffed a laugh. “You mean the best end-run your grandmother ever made?”
She nudged me with her socked foot, a lazy little shove. “She swears she had divine inspiration.”
“Divine meddling,” I muttered.
But I didn’t argue. Not really. Because this? This was better than any plan I could’ve made. Better than any path I thought I was supposed to be on.
The grass rustled around us. The air smelled like citronella and barbecue and something sweet from a nearby table—peach cobbler, maybe. All around, people were winding down, voices soft and familiar. The kind of community that didn’t ask for much and offered more than you thought you needed.
I looked at Liam—at the way his face relaxed in sleep, like he didn’t have a single fear in the world. At Lucy, warm and steady beside me. At the whole picture I hadn’t even known I was missing until I showed up on the doorstep of what she still referred to as The House of Sick.
I didn’t know what I was signing up for the night she opened that door. I just knew I wasn’t ready.
But here I was—wrapped in borrowed peace and a blanket that smelled like sunblock and little-boy sweat—and I was on the other side of everything I thought I couldn’t handle. And I wasn’t just okay. I was better .
Lucy shifted, just enough to angle her face toward mine. Her smile was soft, lazy, eyes warm with affection and a hint of teasing. “You look like you’re thinking big thoughts.”
I couldn’t help it—I grinned. “Yeah. I’m thinking about all kinds of fun, very adult things.”
Her brow arched, lips curving. “Still your best line.”
I gave a low laugh, tugging her closer until she was half on top of me, her laugh catching in her throat as she settled there like she belonged. “I’ve got better ones,” I murmured against her temple.
And then I kissed her—slow, easy, like we had all the time in the world.
Overhead, the string lights blinked on, casting a golden glow across the picnic grounds. Fireflies danced around us like something out of a dream, and the world felt small and right and entirely ours.
Across the lawn, I caught a glimpse of Rivera standing near the tables, unmoving, his gaze fixed somewhere I couldn’t quite see. He didn’t speak. Didn’t blink. Just watched like something in him had clicked loose.
But I didn’t dwell on it.
Because right now, I had Lucy in my arms, a sleeping kid beside us, and a future I’d stopped being afraid to want.
And that was enough.
I hope you enjoyed this first foray into the Hot Shots of Huckleberry Creek!