Chapter 12 Fire and Glass
Fire and Glass
"Whatever happens at the fundraiser, we've already won." Wayne squeezed Jess's hand as they pulled into the Asheville fairgrounds parking lot.
Jess smiled and squeezed back. "Still nervous?"
"About the demonstration? No. About you seeing me make a fool of myself in front of hundreds of people? Absolutely."
The fairgrounds had been transformed into a fire safety showcase. Booths from departments across four states lined the perimeter. Families wandered between demonstrations—smoke detector education, escape planning, hands-on equipment displays.
But the crowd gathering around their setup was by far the largest.
Jess's portable glassblowing station sat center stage, her torch already lit. Wayne stood nearby with fire extinguishers and protective equipment, looking every inch the competent firefighter.
Chief Murphy's voice boomed through the speakers.
“Folks, we're about to show you something special.
Glass artist Jessica Hartley will demonstrate her craft, but things are going to go wrong—because when you're working with extreme heat, accidents happen. And when they do, you need to know what to do.”
Jess caught Wayne's eye. He nodded. Showtime.
She began gathering molten glass, narrating her process. “Glassblowing requires temperatures over two thousand degrees Fahrenheit. That's hot enough to ignite almost anything it touches...”
Right on cue, she “accidentally” brushed the gather against a prepared cotton cloth. Flames erupted—bright orange, controlled but dramatic.
The crowd gasped.
“Oh no!” Jess stepped back, looking appropriately alarmed.
Wayne was already moving, his movements efficient and calm. “Everyone stay calm. First rule—never use water on a chemical fire.” He demonstrated with a fire blanket. “Fire needs oxygen. Cut off the oxygen, fire goes out.”
Applause rippled through the crowd.
“Now, we're going to talk about something that might save your life someday—how to put out different types of fires safely.”
He moved through the stations quickly. Wood fire with an extinguisher—pull, aim, squeeze, sweep.
Grease fire smothered with a lid. Electrical fire with a Class C extinguisher.
And finally, copper-infused flames burning purple-green.
“This one's just for fun—colored flames from metal salts. Still dangerous, but pretty to look at.”
The crowd applauded.
“Now comes the fun part.” Just as Wayne spoke, Jess dropped molten glass into the grease pan. Flames shot up two feet high.
“Oh no! What are we gonna do?”
“Lid!” – “Put the lid on!” – “Don't use water!” the audience yelled back.
Wayne grinned. “Sounds like you were paying attention. I need a volunteer.”
Hands shot up. He pointed to a young woman who stepped forward and slapped the lid on the pan. The flames died instantly.
As the applause faded, Jess reignited the purple flames.
Wayne's gaze landed on a boy, maybe ten years old, practically vibrating with excitement. “How about you, bud?”
The kid scrambled forward but slowed as he got closer, eyes wide, one hand clutching his t-shirt.
Wayne crouched beside him. “Come on, bud. I'm right here with you.” His voice was low, but the microphone caught it. “Those purple flames look pretty cool, don't they? We're gonna put them out together.”
The kid nodded and stepped forward.
Wayne guided him through it—helping him grip the blanket, showing him how to lay it over the flames gently. The purple fire disappeared beneath the fabric, and the crowd erupted in cheers. The boy's face split into a huge grin.
They fell into rhythm. For the next fifteen minutes, Jess kept the fires going while Wayne guided volunteers. She watched him with kids—patient, encouraging. Watched him handle nervous adults with the same calm confidence.
This was Wayne at his best.
Their hands brushed passing equipment. Wayne's eyes met hers—hope, fear, want.
“They're so cute together,” someone murmured nearby.
Jess's chest tightened. They were good together. The question was whether good enough was enough.
When they wrapped up, Chief Murphy was beaming. “The judges loved it. We're definitely placing.”
Two hours later, the awards ceremony began.
Third place went to Copper Ridge's dramatic car extraction demonstration.
“Second place,” the announcer called, “Elken Grove Volunteer Fire Department, for their innovative interactive safety education program combining traditional craft with modern fire prevention techniques.”
The team erupted around them. Everyone talking at once, celebrating the equipment grant, the recognition, the publicity.
But Jess felt strangely distant. Like she was watching from outside herself.
This could be her life. These people, this town, this work. Wayne's arm around her shoulders, his team becoming her team, roots growing down into soil she'd thought was just temporary.
Or she could take the San Francisco job. Clean break, fresh start, the career she'd always planned.
Both paths were real now. Both were possible.
She just had to choose.
Wayne's hand found hers. “Can we talk? Somewhere private?”
She nodded, letting him lead her away from the celebration. They found a quiet corner near the concession stands, the area nearly empty as the event wrapped up. Away from cameras and crowds, they finally faced each other.
“Jess—” Wayne started, but she held up a hand.
“Let me go first. Please.”
He nodded, but she could see the fear in his eyes. Bracing for rejection.
“I've been thinking about what Zoey said,” Jess began. “About building a life for myself first, not around someone else. And she was right. I can't make this decision based on you, Wayne. I have to make it based on what I want for my life.”
“I understand.” His voice was carefully neutral, but his hands were shaking.
“San Francisco is safe,” Jess continued.
“It's a steady paycheck, clear career path, everything I thought I wanted when I graduated RISD.
But you know what? I didn't come back to Elken Grove to play it safe. I came back because Brooklyn was killing me—not financially, but creatively. I was making rent-payment glass instead of art.”
Wayne was watching her intently now.
“And then I found your barn. And I started making things that felt right for the first time in years. Not because of you,” she said quickly, “though you being there definitely didn't hurt.
But because I finally had space and freedom and time to figure out what my work actually looks like when I'm not desperate.”
“Jess, what are you saying?”
“I'm saying I submitted the winter fair application this morning. Before we left for the demonstration.” She watched his face transform—shock to hope to something like joy. “I'm staying in Elken Grove. I'm building my career here, on my terms.”
“You're staying.” He said it like a prayer.
“I'm staying.” She moved closer, her heart pounding. “But Wayne, I need you to understand—I'm not staying for you. I'm staying for me. For my art, for my career, for the life I want to build.”
“I know. I get it.” He reached for her hands.
“But Jess? Can I—can we—” He stopped, took a breath.
“I want to be part of that life. If you'll let me. I want you in my barn, in my space, in my life. I want to wake up with you and work beside you and figure out how to build something real together. I’m scared I'll probably panic sometimes.
I know I'll mess up. But I'm asking anyway—will you give me the chance?”
Jess felt tears prick her eyes. “You really mean that? All of it?”
“Every word. I love you. And I know that's not why you're staying, but I needed you to know. I love you, Jess Hartley.”
“Good.” She pulled him down and kissed him hard.
“Because I love you too, you idiot. And yes, I want to build something together. But Wayne?” She pulled back enough to meet his eyes.
“If you panic and push me away again, we're going to have words. Long, loud, uncomfortable words where I make you talk about your feelings.”
He laughed, the sound shaky with relief. “I can handle that.”
“Can you handle my grandparents interfering occasionally?”
“We'll set boundaries together. As a team.”
“Can you handle me probably being stressed and cranky while I build inventory for the fair?”
“I've handled worse.” He kissed her again, deeper this time. “Jess, I can handle anything as long as we're doing it together.”
She believed him. More importantly, she believed in them—in what they could build if they were both brave enough to try.
She pulled him closer, her hands sliding into his hair as the kiss intensified. Everything else fell away—the fairgrounds, the fundraiser, the uncertain future. There was only this: Wayne's hands framing her face, the taste of hope and promise, the solid certainty of him against her.
When they finally broke apart, both breathing hard, Wayne rested his forehead against hers.
“We should get back,” Jess whispered, though she made no move to let go.
“Probably.” He kissed her again, softer this time. "In a minute.”
She smiled against his mouth. “Yeah. In a minute. Right now, I need you to show me exactly how much you meant all those pretty words.”
“Ahem.”
They broke apart. Brandon and Jake stood in the doorway, both wearing identical smirks.
“Chief sent us to find you for photos,” Jake said, not bothering to hide his grin.
“Have a nice talk?” Brandon asked innocently.
Jess felt her face heat but refused to be embarrassed. “Very productive. I'm staying in Elken Grove. Wayne and I are together. Any other questions?”
“Nope, that covers it.” Jake clapped Wayne on the shoulder. “About damn time.”
The rest of the team materialized, all grinning. Chief Murphy looked particularly pleased.
“We held off on celebration photos,” Murphy said. “Figured you two might want to be in them.”
Captain Schwartz appeared with a camera. “Come on, whole team. And Jess—front and center. You're one of us now.”
Jess let herself be positioned in the middle of the group, Wayne's arm solid around her waist. These people had become friends without her quite noticing. This town had become home.
She'd chosen it. And for the first time in years, the choice felt absolutely, perfectly right.
As the sun set and the crowds dispersed, Jess stood with Wayne watching cleanup crews break down the demonstration areas.
“So,” Wayne said. “Your apartment above Caffeine Drip. When do you move in?”
“Next week.” She glanced up at him. “But fair warning—I might not be there much. Someone's barn is way more comfortable. Better company too.”
“Is that right?”
“Mm-hmm. Plus, he's got this amazing forge, and I have a feeling we're going to be spending a lot of late nights working on collaborative pieces.”
“Just working?” His voice was low, teasing.
“Well. Mostly working.” She grinned up at him. “Wayne Drummond, are you propositioning me?”
“Every chance I get.” He kissed her as the last of the sunset painted the sky orange and gold. “For the rest of our lives if you'll let me.”
“That's a long time.”
“Not nearly long enough.” He pulled her closer. “But we can start with right now. Come home with me?”
“Yeah.” Jess took his hand, facing their future together. “Let's go home.”