Chapter 12
Chapter Twelve
Bobby
The firehouse was quiet except for the low hum of the radio in the background.
The rest of the crew had cleared out for the night, either catching sleep in the bunks or heading home to their families.
I sat on the worn-out couch in the common room, a cold beer in one hand, the other rubbing at the tension building at the base of my neck.
My body was exhausted, but my mind wouldn’t shut off.
I had spent the entire day trying to outrun my own damn thoughts, throwing myself into back-to-back calls, cleaning equipment that didn’t need cleaning, running drills like we were training for a war. But none of it helped. None of it stopped her from slipping into my head. Gabbi.
I could still feel her. The way her body had fit against mine, the way her fingers had curled into my hair, the way she had whispered my name in the kind of voice that made it impossible to pretend this was just old habits.
But it wasn’t just last night that haunted me. It was everything that came before.
I exhaled slowly, my grip tightening around the bottle as the memories pulled me under.
The first time I ever saw Gabbi Mason, she was arguing with a cop.
I had just finished a twenty-four-hour shift, my brain fogged from exhaustion, my only plan to grab some coffee and head home. But then I saw her—standing outside a crime scene, wild-eyed and relentless, going toe-to-toe with an officer twice her size.
"You can’t just keep shutting us out!" she snapped, jabbing a finger toward the yellow police tape. "The public has a right to know what’s happening!"
The cop looked two seconds away from losing his patience. "Ma’am, step back."
"Ma’am?" She scoffed. "Do I look like a ma’am to you?"
That made me smirk. She didn’t. She looked like trouble.
I should’ve walked away. Should’ve minded my own business. But something about the fire in her voice, the way she stood her ground even when she was outmatched, made me stop.
So, I said the dumbest thing possible.
"You always this difficult, or is today special?"
She turned toward me, brown eyes sharp and assessing. "That depends. You always stick your nose where it doesn’t belong, or are you just bored?"
I grinned. Yeah. I was in trouble.
From that day on, she was everywhere.
Gabbi had a way of getting under my skin, showing up when I least expected her, pushing me in ways no one else did. She was fearless, reckless, the kind of woman who didn’t know how to back down from a fight. And damn if I didn’t fall for her so hard I never saw the ground coming.
I remembered our first real date—or what was supposed to be a date.
I had planned something simple, a dinner at a place I knew she liked. But when I pulled up to pick her up, she was grinning like she had a secret.
"Change of plans," she said, hopping into the passenger seat.
I frowned. "Uh, what?"
She held up two tickets. "Underground boxing match. You in?"
I stared at her. "Gabbi?—"
"Come on, firefighter," she teased, elbowing me. "Live a little."
I sighed, shaking my head. "You’re a menace."
But I drove us there anyway.
The place was packed, the air thick with sweat and adrenaline, the sound of fists hitting flesh echoing through the dimly lit warehouse. Gabbi was practically buzzing, eyes bright, fingers gripping my arm every time a good hit landed.
Then she turned to me, smirking. "You should get in there."
I raised an eyebrow. "Excuse me?"
"You could take them."
I laughed. "You’re out of your mind."
She shrugged. "I dare you."
And that’s how I ended up in the ring.
I threw a few punches, took a few hits, and when I climbed back out, she kissed me for the first time, right there in the middle of the crowd, her hands still shaking from the rush.
It had been messy, chaotic, exactly like her.
And I had never wanted anything more.
We had spent the next two years tangled up in each other, sneaking into firehouses at odd hours just to steal a few minutes together, taking late-night drives with no destination, spending entire weekends in bed, never needing anything but each other.
I remembered the night I almost asked her to marry me.
I had the ring in my pocket, had planned out every word. We had been out late, walking through the city, the streets empty except for us. Gabbi had been laughing about something, eyes crinkling at the edges, looking so damn beautiful it hurt.
I reached into my pocket, my fingers curling around the box, ready to change everything.
But then my phone rang.
And by the time I answered, by the time I looked back up at her, Liam was gone.
And just like that, the life I had imagined—the future I had wanted—was gone with him.
I had never told her about the ring. Never told her that in another timeline, in another world, we wouldn’t have fallen apart the way we did.
I exhaled sharply, running a hand over my face, dragging myself back to the present. The bottle in my hand was empty, my body tired, but my mind still racing.
I thought about Gabbi, about the way she had looked at me last night.
I thought about how, despite everything, despite the years and the pain and the mistakes, I still wanted her.
And I hated myself for it.
Because no matter how much I wanted to believe we could fix what was broken, some things just couldn’t be undone.