Chapter 2
two
. . .
Hayes
Emmy’s quiet on the short ride from the bakery to the house she shares with her sister and her mom, Elodie, over in Cranberry Point.
It’s been just the three of them ever since Em and Evie’s father died, back when we were in high school.
Ms. Elodie did an amazing job making sure her girls did more than just survive their teen years.
Emmy and Evie thrived. Each of them graduated with honors and went off to Thackery College on full scholarships.
Em for pastry school and Evie for business management.
Like their mom, those women are a force to be reckoned with.
But not tonight.
Normally, Emmy would be filling the silence without even realizing she’s doing it—little humming noises, soft rambling, commentary about the weather or the latest holiday drink she’s testing.
Now? Nothing.
Just her staring out the window with her hands folded in her lap like she’s afraid they’ll start shaking again. Not that I can blame her.
I keep glancing at her anyway, pretending I’m checking the road. She’s pale, exhausted, and still wearing streaks of soot on her cheek, like a reminder of how close tonight came.
Damn wiring. Damn old building.
She should’ve called. The second that outlet started acting up. The thought of her standing in that kitchen with flames catching…
My grip tightens on the steering wheel.
“Hayes?” Her voice is small. Too small.
I ease my foot off the gas. “Yeah, sweetheart?”
She doesn’t usually flinch at pet names, but tonight she presses her lips together like they mean something different. Important. Too close.
“I’m… really embarrassed.”
“Why? You didn’t do anything wrong.”
“I should’ve handled it. I should’ve—”
“No.” The word comes out sharper than I intend. She startles, and I force my shoulders to loosen. “Emmy, if I got the call and it was worse—if you were hurt—” I have to stop and breathe before I say something that gives too much away. “I don’t want to think about that.”
We pull up to her house. Her porch light is on, glowing soft gold across the snow. She starts unbuckling, but I get out first and round the truck before she can even open the door.
“Hayes, you do not have to walk me to the door,” she tried to deflect.
“I know.” I offer my hand anyway.
Her fingers are small inside my palm, and a little cold. But she relents and lets escort her to her front porch.
“My mom and sister are probably asleep,” she whispers. “I should get inside and take a shower just in case Evie wakes up. I don’t want her to freak out before I can explain.”
I nod.
“Thank you,” she says. “For… all of it.”
“You don’t have to thank me.”
“I do.” She rubs her arms. “I don’t know what I would’ve done if—”
“Em,” my own voice comes out thick with emotion.
She looks up at me, eyes wide in a way I’ve never seen. Vulnerable. Bruised around the edges.
And something inside me pulls tight. I want to gather her in my arms and hold on to her. But I can’t. I won’t. We buried those feelings a long time ago.
Or at least I told myself I did.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” I ask again. “No dizziness? No headache?”
“I’m okay.” Her voice wavers. “Or I will be.”
I reach out and tuck that stubborn strand of hair behind her ear again. “Yeah. You will. You’re tough like that.”
She exhales like she’s been holding her breath since the flames started. “But will Dockside be okay?”
“It will,” I promise. “I’ll be there in the morning with Rhett. We’ll get it cleaned, check the wiring, replace the outlet, maybe a few others. Shouldn’t take long.”
She peers up at me with eyes full of hope. “You don’t have to do that.”
“I know.” I meet her eyes and let the truth slip before I can catch it. “But I want to.”
Her breath hitches.
I know if I don’t leave soon, I’m going to say something I can’t take back.
So instead I tell her, “You should get some sleep,” and hand her car keys back to her. “Try, at least.”
“Hayes?”
“Yeah?”
Her smile is faint, tired. But real. “You always take care of me. Remember when I fell off the sled when we were in middle school? You carried me home in the snow. When my prom date bailed, you picked me up and let me tag along with you so I ‘wouldn’t miss the good songs.’ And when my dad got sick, you were the one who kept showing up with soup and doing little things, like taking out the trash, and you thought we didn’t notice.
You’ve been taking care of me my whole life. ”
I swallow hard. “And I always will.”
Emmy’s cheeks flush before she turns and opens her front door. She pauses and turns back around, wide-eyed. “Uh, I just thought of something.”
“Yeah?”
“How are you going to get back to the fire house?”
I chuckle and glance over my shoulder just as Chief Burns pulls up in his department issued SUV. “That’s my ride.”
“Oh my God. Hayes. You could have just taken my car and I could have had Emmy drive me to the shop tomorrow.”
I shrug. “Don’t worry about it Em.”
She nods and opens the front door. “Goodnight,” she whispers, before stepping inside.
“Goodnight, Em.”
When the door clicks shut behind her, I stand on her porch for longer than I should, letting the cold bite at my cheeks, grounding me.
If tonight taught me anything, it’s that I’m already…or maybe still…too far gone where Emmy Alder is concerned.
If I’m not careful, one spark is all it’ll take to burn my whole world down.
Chief Burns doesn’t say a word until I’m buckled in and he’s pulled away from the curb, tires crunching over a thin layer of fresh snow.
He never rushes anything. Not decisions. Not conversations. Not judgments.
Which is why the silence is worse than being yelled at.
After a full block he grunts, “You good?”
“Fine.”
It’s a lie. A damn neon-lit lie.
His eyes flick over to me. “You sure? Because you were staring at that girl’s house like someone stole your puppy.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose and sigh. “It’s not like that, Chief. Nothing happened.”
“I didn’t say something happened.” He pauses. “But something almost did.”
I glare out the passenger window like the answer’s written in the snowbanks. “She had a scare. Anyone would’ve done the same.”
“Uh-huh.” Chief makes a low sound. “Except most firefighters don’t look like they aged ten years in two minutes when they’re called out to a burning building with entrapment.
Smoke eaters like you and me, we thrive under the pressure.
We stay calm and level headed. But tonight, when you walked out of that bakery, I saw the pure fear written all over your face.
And I saw the way almost relaxed when you locked eyes with Emmy and saw she was okay. ”
My jaw clenches. “The whole building wasn’t burning. It was a towel. And she wasn’t trapped.”
He’s not wrong. And that’s the problem.
The thought of Emmy being trapped in the bakery that filled me with fear and made bile rise in my throat.
I exhale through gritted teeth and lean my head back against the seat. “It was nothing serious. A faulty outlet. I’m just…irritated. I didn't notice it earlier when I picked up my damn coffee today.”
“Right,” he says, in a tone that implies he believes exactly none of that. “You’re irritated because the wiring could’ve hurt her, and you’re Superman with x-ray vision so you should have seen it sooner. Not because it could have hurt your girl.”
“She’s not my girl,” I reply too quickly.
Chief Burns smirks like he knew that was coming. “Sure. And I’m Santa Claus.”
“You could be. There’s a rumor the Dawsons may be looking to officially retire. Mistletoe Bay may be looking for a permanent replacement,” I quip back.
He just shakes his head at me with an amused smile as we pull into the station. The red bay doors are closed, but the glow of the interior lights seeps out from the small windows like a beacon in the night.
Inside, most of the guys are already out of their gear. A few glance up when I walk in—just enough to acknowledge me before returning to whatever they were doing. Except for Wyatt Keaton, my best friend at the fire house, who looks like he’s been waiting for my return.
He raises his eyebrows. “Well?”
“Well, what?”
“Well,” he repeats slowly, “is Emmy okay? Should I go get her a card? A cupcake? A therapy dog? A bouquet of fire extinguishers?”
I stare at him.
He grins wider. “Sooo…you’re not fine.”
“I’m fine,” I say flatly. “She’s fine. The building’s a mess, you saw it. But all of that is fixable.”
He leans a hip against the metal table in the center of the room. “You’re gonna check that wiring in the morning, right?”
“Yes.”
“And you’re doing that before you even go home and get some rest, right?”
“Yes.”
Wyatt blinks. “Jesus Christ, Hayes. At least try to pretend you’re not in love with her.”
I should punch him. Or walk away. Or deny it.
Instead, I grab a bottle of water, twist the cap too hard, and say, “Shut up.”
Which only makes him laugh. Loudly.
Loud enough that Chief Burns calls from his office, “Stop antagonizing him, Keaton. The man almost combusted tonight without your help.”
Wyatt winks. “Love you too, Chief.”
I take a long drink and stare down at the concrete floor.
Usually coming back to the firehouse after a call allows me to feel grounded.
Except nothing feels grounded anymore.
Not when I can still see Emmy’s trembling hands.
Not when I can still hear her say, “You’ve been taking care of me my whole life.”
Not when some unguarded part of me whispered back, “And I always will.”
Wyatt’s voice cuts in again, quieter this time. “Hey. Tomorrow’s gonna be rough. You sure you’re good to be the one helping her fix things up?”
“I’m the one who needs to be there.” The words come out before I can stop them.
He nods once, in understanding. “Then you better try to catch as much sleep as you can tonight. Because she’s going to be worried about your well-being too.”
I know he’s right.
I also know that if I close my eyes, I’m going to see her standing in that smoke-filled kitchen, small and brave and breakable in ways she doesn’t let anyone see.
So instead I say, “I’ll be fine,” push myself to my feet, and head toward the locker room to shower. On my way, I send a text to Rhett, the local handyman and hardware store owner, to let him know what happened and tell him I need his help.
I don’t even need to read his reply to know that he’ll be at the bakery first thing to lend a hand and help me ensure that every wire is up to code. That every piece of drywall that was scorched is replaced. And that Emmy and Evie’s cafe is back up and running in no time.
After my shower, I try to stretch out in the bunk room and relax but the truth gnaws at me all night, no matter how hard I try to tune it out.
If anything had happened to Emmy, I don’t know what pieces of me would’ve been left.