Chapter 29
JOSH
I can tell the moment Lily decides to lay it all out.
It’s in the little crease between her brows, her mouth twisted in that impossible pout I’d die to kiss even just once.
She’s determined not to give me an inch, to stand her ground against the possibility of us.
And if that’s what she wants, I’ll accept it and disappear from her life like she asked, but not before I have fought tooth and nail for this, for us.
Our gazes hold, a mess of unresolved feelings and heartbreak flashing between us—her eyes pleading with me to let go, mine refusing to give up.
But in that quiet standoff, I already know what she’s going to say.
“Yes,” she finally answers, her voice so raw it sounds like every word costs her.
“It’s the job. I… love you,” she whispers, gentle but so powerful.
The words land, sharp and bright, right in the center of me.
“But I can’t be with someone who runs into literal hell for a living.
I can’t sit up at night wondering if you’ll come home.
Or make Penny love another firefighter who might never come back.
I won’t put either of us through that again. ”
The relief that floods my chest is wild and painful.
She loves me. And she’s finally telling me without screaming it in anger.
But her eyes still spark with weariness instead of joy.
Her hands twist tight in my T-shirt, knuckles white, every muscle in her body holding fast to the walls she’s built.
But I’m about to put a sledgehammer to her barriers, because if she loves me, if she wants me, the rest can be solved.
I hold her tighter, feel the tremble in her shoulders, and say, “What if I didn’t run into danger anymore?”
She looks at me, suspicion flaring so fast it makes me smile. “What do you mean?”
“What if I switched to a job that wasn’t operative?”
She shudders in my arms. “Don’t joke about that.”
“I’m not joking.” I hold her gaze, needing her to hear me. “Chief Williams has been trying to recruit me for a while. They need a new instructor at the academy.”
Lily shoves at my chest like she can physically push the words away. “No, Josh. You can’t do that. Being a firefighter is your dream. You worked your whole life to make lieutenant. California was your dream post; you literally just moved here for that.”
I catch her hands, gentle but firm, holding her in place as I look into her eyes.
“And I found a better dream. You and Penny are my dream now. After being trapped under the shelter, fearing my life might be over, all I could think about was you two, getting back to you. Telling you how much I love you. Nothing else mattered. Nothing.”
She’s still shaking her head, tears trembling on her lashes. “Josh, you might think you’re okay with that now, but you won’t be in the long run. All firefighters want to be in the thick of the action, saving lives. I can’t let you give up who you are. Not for me.”
“Being a firefighter is what I do, not who I am.” I cup her face between my palms, my thumbs brushing away the tears threatening to spill. “Listen, the academy position isn’t a consolation prize. It’s a different way to serve. I’d be teaching the next generation, shaping how they approach the job.”
She makes a sound that’s half scoff, half sob. “Don’t patronize me. I was married to a firefighter, remember? I know how you guys think. You need to be where the action is. The adrenaline, the rush of charging into danger when everyone else is running out—it’s in your blood.”
“Maybe it was,” I concede, “but something changed for me.”
I guide her to the couch, needing her to sit down, to hear me. She follows reluctantly, perching on the edge like she might bolt at any second. I kneel in front of her, my palms on her knees, our eyes locked.
“When I was trapped under that fire shelter, thinking each breath might be my last, I didn’t regret that I wasn’t on a bigger fire or saving more people. I regretted all the things I hadn’t said to you. All the moments we hadn’t shared yet.”
Her eyes search mine, looking for a crack of uncertainty, but she won’t find any.
“As Lead Instructor I’d still be saving lives,” I tell her. “Many more lives, because I’ll be multiplying myself. And I won’t be saving only the lives of the victims but also those of the firefighters I shape, making sure they have the best damn training in the country.”
Lily still looks like she’s refusing to accept what I’m telling her.
Her jaw sets. “Yeah? And what will you do the first time a real emergency hits? When it’s an all-hands-on situation, when houses, entire neighborhoods are threatened?
Because that’s a pretty frequent occurrence in California.
” Her voice hardens. “Will you be able to hold back? To stay out of the line of fire? To watch the men you’ve trained go risk their lives while you stay back safe, twiddling your thumbs? ”
I don’t flinch at the challenge in her voice.
It’s a fair question. “I’ll be doing everything else useful I can,” I explain.
“Evacuation support, knocking on doors, confirming no one is left behind, helping with pets or those with limited mobility. I’ll aid with logistics, coordinating supply delivery—water, food, medical, fuel, tools.
” I squeeze her hands. “Those are essential roles too.”
“Yes,” Lily says, her voice quiet but firm, “but you’ll hate every second you’re not trapped in a mask with a hose in your hands.”
“You’re not listening to me.” I catch her hand and bring her palm to my chest, pressing it against my heart so she can feel its steady beat.
“I didn’t come here today on a whim with a plan I haven’t thought about in depth.
I’m an adult man capable of making adult decisions, and I won’t regret this one choice.
” I lean closer, willing her to believe me.
“I won’t regret coming home to you every night.
I won’t regret being there to tuck Penny in.
And I won’t regret leaving the house in the morning, knowing you’ll get about your day serene, without a pit of dread in your stomach that will eat away at you until there’s nothing left. ”
Her fingers curl against my chest. She’s wavering, caught between what she wants and what she fears.
“In the last few days, I’ve stared hard and true within myself,” I continue, “and if I have to choose between walking away from active duty and walking away from you, I choose you. I choose us. Our family.” The promise hangs between us, fragile and hopeful.
“I’m in love with you, and I’m all in. All I need from you now is to trust me, and to love me back, and maybe kiss me. ”
The last part slips out unplanned, my voice cracking a little on the plea. For one terrible moment, Lily stares at me, eyes wide and swimming with tears. Have I pushed too far? Asked for too much?
But then she lets out a broken laugh, part disbelief, part surrender. “How are you real?” she whispers, shaking her head. “You’re willing to change your entire life for me?”
“For us,” I correct gently. “And it’s not a sacrifice if I’m gaining something more valuable in return.”
Lily lifts her hand to my face, her touch so light it’s almost not there, tracing my jawline with trembling fingers. “I’m terrified,” she admits. “I’m so scared that one day you’ll wake up and resent me for taking you away from what you love.”
“That won’t happen,” I promise. “Because what I love the most is right here.”
The last of her resistance crumbles. She leans forward until her forehead rests against mine. “I love you.” Her breath is warm against my lips.
My heart threatens to burst through my ribcage.
I slide my palms up her arms, to her shoulders, cradling her face. “Tell me again,” I murmur, needing to hear it one more time, to be sure this is real.
“I love you, Josh Collins.” Her voice is stronger now, more certain. “And I’m terrified of how much.”
“Being scared together is better than being brave apart,” I tell her, and then I can’t wait any longer.
I tilt my head, my pulse heavy in my veins, and brush my lips against hers, a whispered question.
She answers in a rush of breath, parting her mouth for me.
Every nerve ending in my body ignites at that single point of contact, roaring to life, craving more.
Lily’s fingers slide into my hair, tightening almost painfully, as she pulls me forward and deeper.
I answer in kind, lowering my hands to grip her waist. I pull her body flush against mine.
Her legs part, and still kneeling on the floor, I settle between them.
The kiss is no longer tentative, it’s hungry, desperate and fierce with the raw ache of two people who’ve been holding back for too long.
The softness of her mouth yields to urgency, her lips insistent, tasting of everything we’ve withheld, everything we’ve denied ourselves.
A quiet groan escapes her throat—a needy whimper edged with relief—and it sends fire through me, setting ablaze every careful boundary I was forced to keep.
I shift closer, sliding my palm from her waist to the curve of her spine, feeling each delicate knot beneath my fingertips.
Her heartbeat is wild against my other hand as I press it to her neck.
Our bodies align naturally, her thighs shifting to frame my hips, holding me closer.
Lily’s grip eases into caresses, fingers tracing the line of my jaw, the sensitive hollow beneath my ear, the curve of my neck.
Our breaths mingle in sharp gasps and hushed murmurs, blending into something more potent, more honest than words could ever manage.
I memorize her touch, her scent, the way she kisses me like she’s surrendering and claiming me.
And I taste the salt of her tears, feel the flutter of her pulse under my fingertips, and know with absolute certainty that this—her, us—is worth any career, any danger, any sacrifice.
When we break apart, both breathless, she looks at me with eyes that shine with a mixture of love and lingering worry. “You’re sure about this? About us?”
I smile, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “I’ve never been surer of anything in my life.” I press another quick kiss to her lips because now that I can, I’ll never stop. “The real question is, are you sure? Can you let yourself have this? Have us?”
Lily takes a deep breath, and I watch the transformation happen—the fear doesn’t disappear, but it recedes, making room for something brighter, something that looks a lot like hope. “Yes,” she says, her voice small but steady. “I want to try. With you.”
I pull her into my arms, burying my face in her neck, breathing in the sunshine and flowers of the weekends, a smell that’s become home. “It’s all I’m asking for,” I murmur against her temple. “A chance to show you that some risks are worth taking.”
She laughs, tightening her arms around me. “I should warn you, you’re not just getting me. You’re getting a sassy eight-year-old who will have you wrapped around her finger in about five minutes flat.”
“Pretty sure that ship has sailed,” I admit with a grin. “I’m already planning how to build the treehouse she’s been talking about. Think Dorian will mind having one in his garden?”
Lily shakes her head, but she’s smiling now, really smiling, without the shadows that usually lurk behind her eyes. “You’re going to spoil her rotten.”
“Both of you,” I promise, pulling her back into my arms. “Every single day.”
I press my lips to her hair and hold her. Our bodies fit so perfectly our love feels inevitable. She tips her head back to look at me, the sass she’s shown me from day one sparking in her eyes, but shimmering with nerves too. “Every single day, huh?” she whispers, as if daring me to mean it.
“Every single day,” I promise.
I look at her, finally able not to hide what I’m feeling, to let it show on my face.
I want to memorize every inch of her, every new micro-expression, to be able to replay the moment she became mine.
Her breath hitches—a barely there intake—but I feel it everywhere.
My whole body goes tight with wanting. A pulse beats between us now, bristling with electricity.
She drops her gaze to my mouth, and I’m gone.
I dip my head, catching her lips in a kiss that starts slow and reverent, but soon ignites.
Neither of us has any patience left. Her hands tangle in my shirt, fisting the fabric, pulling me closer, kissing me like she’s starving.
Months of restraint break open, all the longing and fear and what-ifs flooding out of us.
I give in, deepening the kiss, feeling her open under me, her body melting against mine.
She surges forward, knocking me off balance.
We tumble to the floor, landing on the rug.
She’s on top, knees bracketing my hips, laughter caught in her throat as she leans down to kiss me again, harder this time, with a frantic joy.
I can’t stop touching her. My hands find her thighs, sliding beneath the hem of her shirt, feeling her skin heat under my palms. She gasps, her hips rocking into mine, her hair falling around us in a curtain.
I relish the weight of her body, the heat, the taste of her mouth, the tiny sounds she makes every time I touch her.
I roll us over to get on top of her. I kiss her jaw, her neck, every new patch of skin within my reach, greedy for the salt and sweetness of her.
I want to lose myself, to give in to every reckless urge I’ve buried for months.
But as I pull up on my elbows and search for her mouth again, she tenses.
Lily is still, her lips are wobbling, and her eyes shine too bright. My heart trips as her gaze darts sideways, her chest rising too fast, like she’s breathing through something sharp. Her fingers loosen in my hair, sliding to my shoulders, not pushing me away but not drawing me closer either.
A low, bruising ache opens in my chest. Have I pushed her too far? Bulldozed past her limits? What if she’s not ready, what if she never will be, not for this, not for me?
I hover above her, my breath coming hard, and force myself to stop, to see her fully. She’s looking at me with wide and uncertain eyes.
I swallow against the panic rising in my throat to steady my voice, to be what she needs—even if what she needs isn’t me.
“What’s wrong?”