Chapter 14
Chapter Fourteen
Saxon
The night is cold enough that my breath ghosts in front of me, but my whole body is running hot. Too hot. Like the fire I walked into last night decided to take up residence under my skin.
Briar walks beside me toward the station, bundled in a soft sweater, cheeks flushed from the wind.
She keeps brushing her hair behind her ear, a nervous habit I’ve learned to read.
She’s trying to hide how shaken she still is—from the fire, from last night, from what we almost did against that damn ambulance.
“You’re quiet,” she murmurs.
I grunt. “Thinking.”
“About?”
I flick her a look. “You.”
Her breath stutters. Good. She doesn’t get to pretend anymore.
Neither do I. The station comes into view, lights glowing against the evening dark, engines parked in their bays, and—yeah.
The idiots actually did it. String lights hang across the garage opening.
Warm, golden, twinkling like we’re in some holiday rom-com.
Briar stops short. “What’s—”
I squeeze her hand. “Come on.”
She stiffens the moment we step closer. “Saxon. Are they—”
The bay doors hum open, and the crew stands inside the station like they’ve been waiting all night. Which they have. Rowan gives a not-subtle thumbs-up. “Just testing the holiday decorations, Cap.”
Briar laughs—a soft, startled sound that hits something in my chest.
I shoot the guys a warning glare. They scatter like cockroaches, disappearing into offices, out back, anywhere but here.
Good. Because what’s about to happen is not theirs to witness.
I step into the middle of the bay, lights casting warm shadows over us.
Briar follows slowly, her eyes darting around, breath catching, hands twisting nervously.
“Saxon?” she whispers. “What’s going on?”
I turn to her fully. And everything inside me goes still. Not calm. Certain.
She stands there in the glow, hair tousled, eyes wide, wearing that soft sweater I want to drag up her body and replace with my hands.
The same woman who ran into smoke looking for her kid.
The same woman who holds Junie together with nothing but love and grit.
The same woman who has terrified me for weeks—because wanting her feels like standing at the edge of everything I’ve sworn not to have.
But I’m done fighting it. I take her hands.
She stares at them, at me, at the lights above us. Her chest rises hard. “Saxon…”
“No.” I step closer. “Let me say this.”
Her breath trembles.
I lower my voice, rough, honest. “You’re my spark, Briar.”
She swallows. “Saxon…”
“You lit me up the second you walked into that hallway with a paper crown stuck in your hair.” I squeeze her fingers. “You crashed into my life like you were meant to be there.”
She laughs, tears in her eyes. “That doesn’t make any sense.”
“It doesn’t have to.” I cup her cheek with one hand. “What matters is this: I want forever.”
She inhales sharply.
“I want you,” I say. “I want to adopt Junie. I want the mess, the chaos, the good days, the hard ones. I want your stubbornness and your fire and your soft heart that you pretend isn’t soft.” My voice drops, rough. “I want all of you.”
Her lips tremble.
I take a breath and let the last wall come down. “And I want you to marry me.”
She gasps. Hands flying to her mouth. Tears spill fast and hard down her cheeks.
“Briar Tate,” I murmur, pulling her into me, “say yes.”
She chokes out a laugh through her sobs. “Of course yes. Yes, Saxon. God—yes.”
Relief slams into me like a gust of heat. I wrap my arms around her, lifting her off her feet as she cries against my shoulder. My throat burns. I crush her close. Not gentle. Not careful. Not afraid anymore.
Somewhere behind us, the crew—who absolutely did not actually leave—erupt in cheers. I hear a whistle, a shout, a “Get it, Cap!”
But Briar doesn’t hear them. She’s pressed into me, shaking, laughing through tears, whispering my name like it’s something she’s afraid to lose. When I set her down, she cups my face with both hands.
“You’re sure?” she whispers.
I take her wrists, bring her palms to my mouth, and kiss them both.
“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”
She breaks. Again. Soft, beautiful, undone.
I kiss her—slowly at first, then deeper, claiming her all over again, tasting the tears and the joy and the promise between us. Her fingers slide into my hair, tugging, pulling me closer. Someone behind us hoots.
I pull back just enough to growl, “Get out.”
Boots shuffle. Doors slam. Quiet at last.
Briar laughs, cheeks flushed. “You scared them.”
“No. I motivated them.”
She snorts. God, I love her.
A month later the wedding is chaos. Small-town, over-the-top, embarrassingly public chaos. The whole damn mountain shows up—even people I swear I’ve never met.
Rowan and my mom cry. Margie Warner, the owner of Devil’s Peak Lodge, threatens to kidnap me if I ever hurt Briar.
Junie throws flower petals like she’s fighting in a war.
And when Briar walks toward me in that simple white dress, hair down, eyes locked on mine—I forget how to breathe.
We exchange vows. Kiss while the entire crowd screams. And the second the reception starts, I’m half-feral with the need to get her alone.
She’s radiant. Glowing. Laughing with her teacher friends and spinning Junie around on the dance floor. She catches me staring and blushes. Shy. Beautiful. Mine.
I don’t last ten more minutes.
I walk across the room, grab her hand, and pull her down the hallway toward the quieter part of the building.
“Saxon!” she laughs breathlessly. “People will—”
“No one’s looking.”
“I think they are, actually—”
I push her gently against the wall and she gasps. My hand presses beside her head. My body cages hers. Her chest rises fast, eyes going wide in the low hallway light.
“Saxon…” she whispers, voice shaking.
I lean in until my mouth grazes her ear.
“You played with fire, sweetheart…” My lips drag down to her neck. “…and now you’re mine.”
Her breath breaks in a soft, helpless sound that hits me straight in the gut. I kiss the curve of her throat—slow, then deeper—my hands sliding down her waist, gripping her hips, pulling her flush against me. She trembles, fingers grabbing my shirt like she needs something to survive the moment.
“Saxon—people—” she stammers.
“They can wait.”
I kiss her neck again, lingering, tasting her skin, feeling her pulse jump under my mouth. She gasps when my hand slides down the side of her thigh, fingers curling around it, guiding her leg up just enough for her dress to hitch. Her breath catches. Her fingers dig into my shoulders.
Her body arches into mine, soft and hot and unbearably ready. My voice is low, gravel rough.
“You have any idea what you’re doing to me right now?”
She shakes her head, dazed. “Tell me.”
I press my forehead to hers. “I’d need a damn dictionary to explain it.”
She laughs—a soft, breathless, ruined sound—and her hand slides up under the hem of my shirt, fingers skimming my stomach.
My breath shudders.
“Briar,” I warn in a low growl.
“Yes?” she whispers, eyes heavy.
“Careful.”
“Why?” She bites her lip.
I grab her hip, tightening my grip until she gasps. “Because I won’t stop.”
Her pulse jumps.
“Maybe I don’t want you to,” she whispers.
That’s it.
I lift her thigh higher, guiding her leg around my hip, her dress sliding just enough for warm skin to meet my hand.
She moans—quiet, choked, desperate. I kiss her—hard, hungry, reckless—my hand sliding along her thigh, my body pinning her to the wall.
She wraps her arms around my neck and kisses me back with everything she has—every mile of fear, every moment of longing, every promise of forever we just made. Her mouth is soft, frantic, perfect.
Her breath mingles with mine, hot and sweet. Her body moves with mine like we’re already one thing. Her other leg shifts like she’s about to wrap it around me too—I break the kiss with a groan that borders on pain.
“Sweetheart,” I breathe against her mouth, “if you do that…I won’t be able to walk out of here.”
She laughs, soft and shattered, brushing her lips along my jaw. “Who says we have to leave?”
I lower my head to her neck, kissing her again, slower now, deeper, reverent even as my hands stay greedy.
“I want you,” I say, voice hoarse. “All of you. Every bit.”
She shivers. “You have me.”
I exhale hard against her skin, kissing her one last time—long, slow, consuming—before I rest my forehead on hers. Her hands slide down my chest, her breathing fast, her body still molded to mine.
“Let’s go,” I growl.
She blushes, smiling against my lips. “And leave everyone?”
I take her hand. She squeezes my fingers. “They’ll understand.”
And together we walk back toward the celebration, toward our daughter, toward our future—toward the family we forged in flame–and say our goodbyes.
Rowan and Ash laugh because they know exactly why we’re leaving early.
My mom slips Junie’s hand in hers, promising to take extra good care of our girl.
And then we’re heading out to my truck.
Ten minutes later I’m ushering her into the living room of our cabin, my fingers fumbling with the satin buttons that trail down her spine and hold the beaded lace together.
She moans softly as our lips connect, her body arching into mine as my fingers push the snow white fabric from her trembling form.
“I’ve waited so damn long for this moment.”
She nods, at a loss for words as I cover her with my lips. A moment later I lift her into my arms and carry her across the threshold into our bedroom.
Briar’s heart thunders against mine, our rib cages crashing together as I hover over her in our bed. Our first time together, my first chance to love her in all the ways a man loves a woman.
“I love you,” her words wrap around my heart like a vice.
“So fucking long,” I murmur against her lips. “I’ve waited to make you mine for so fucking long.”