Chapter Forty-Two
BACK ON DUTY (SORT OF)
Cole
It’s weird how something as simple as walking into a building can make my heart pound like I’m gearing up for a rescue call.
But it does.
The second I step back into the station, I can feel it in my chest. The mix of nerves and nostalgia, the smell of coffee, sweat, and whatever weird air freshener someone keeps plugging in near the dorms. The familiar clang of metal lockers and the scrape of chairs on linoleum. I’m home.
“Look who it is!” Trey bellows from the kitchen. “Looking good, lover boy.”
“You can’t get rid of me that easily,” I shoot back, stepping in slowly, careful but steady on my feet.
The guys all crowd around—clapping me on the back, pretending not to notice the slight wince when one of them gets too enthusiastic. There’s a cake on the counter, lopsided with bright blue frosting that says Welcome Back, HFN in painfully uneven letters.
I raise an eyebrow. “HFN?”
Trey shrugs. “It was supposed to say ‘Hot Nurse Magnet,’ but we ran out of space.”
“You guys are idiots,” I say, laughing.
It’s stupid and loud and absolutely perfect. For a few minutes, it’s easy to laugh. Easy to fall back into step with the rhythm of the place.
But then my eyes land on Brennan’s locker.
Still closed. Still labeled. Still there.
The ache hits sharp and fast. Like it always does.
I swallow hard and force my gaze away before I spiral.
“Hey,” Trey says more quietly, nudging me with his elbow. “You okay?”
I nod. “I guess so. It’s just… weird being here without him.”
He doesn’t push. Just nods. We all feel it.
They give me a quick tour of the recent changes—new coffee maker, different turnout gear storage, some reorganized cubbies. I half-listen, letting their voices carry me through it.
And then something shifts in the room.
I look up.
Andi.
She’s standing just inside the bay doors, not saying a word. Hair pulled back, hands tucked into the pockets of her ripped jeans. Her eyes lock on mine like maybe she’s been staring at me this whole time.
Everything else goes quiet.
She doesn’t move.
Neither do I.
But something in me exhales.
She came.
Later, when the cake is cut and the attention has shifted and no one’s watching, I find her standing off to the side by the gear racks.
I stop a few feet away. Let the silence settle.
“You came,” I say quietly.
She just nods, her eyes glassy. “Yeah.”
And that’s all it takes.
Because she’s here.
“Your mom texted me,” she says next. “We’ve kept in touch a little.”
I nod. That’s… interesting.
She takes a step closer. “I thought seeing you back here again would wreck me. But instead all I feel is proud.”
I don’t say anything. I can’t yet.
“I was scared,” she adds, voice trembling. “Honestly, I still am. But I’d rather be terrified with you than safe without you.”
I step forward and pull her into a hug. Her arms slide around my waist, careful but sure, and I bury my face in her shoulder like I’ve been holding my breath since she left.
“I missed you,” I murmur. “So much.”
She squeezes me tighter.
And for the first time in weeks, the ache in my chest starts to lift.
A second later, Trey rounds the corner with a half-eaten slice of cake in hand. He stops short when he sees us, then grins like he just walked into a rom-com.
“Well, well, well,” he says, taking a dramatic bite of frosting. “Look who’s back—and brought his better half.”
Andi laughs, cheeks pink but smiling. “Hi, Trey.”
He gives her a quick once-over and nods approvingly. “You two are good together. Don’t mess it up, kid,” he says to me before sauntering off.
I don’t plan on it. But it’s anyone’s guess if Andi’s really going to let me back in.
Later, when it’s just the two of us walking out to the parking lot, Andi turns to me and says, “Alright, you’ve got me for the rest of the day. What do you want to do?”
I don’t even hesitate. “I want to see Beef.”
She stops in her tracks. “Seriously?”
I nod.
“Of all the things we could do right now—” she gestures between us, eyebrow raised, mouth twitching into a smirk, “you want to go see my dog?”
“Yeah,” I say, deadpan. “Beef and I have unfinished business.”
She shakes her head like I’m ridiculous, but the smile stays. “Alright, fine. Let’s go.”
We drive to her place, and as soon as the front door opens, Beef barrels toward me like a golden wrecking ball of love and fur. I crouch—carefully—and let him bury his massive head into my chest while his tail thumps like a drumline behind him.
“I think he missed you more than I did,” Andi says, laughing softly.
“I doubt that,” I murmur, running a hand through Beef’s thick coat.
The dog whines and licks my jaw, then promptly flops onto his back with all four paws in the air.
Andi watches from the doorway, arms crossed, expression soft as I treat the world’s most ridiculous dog to a belly rub.
I lean over him like we’re old friends catching up. “Was she nice to you while I was gone? Did she buy more of those salmon dog treats you like? Or did she go back to the boring peanut butter ones?”
Beef rolls to his side, panting.
“He likes the peanut butter ones too,” Andi chimes in.
I pat his head, grinning. “Be honest, buddy. Did she have any other guys over while I was out?”
Beef lets out a happy bark.
Andi groans from the doorway. “Don’t encourage him.”
I look over my shoulder, grinning. “Sounds like a confession to me.”
“There was never anyone else, Cole. Only you.” Her voice is softer now, her eyes locked on mine.
I rise slowly to my feet.
And then I pull her in.
One arm around her waist, the other curling behind her neck as I lower my mouth to hers.
The kiss is slow and deep—more gravity than fire at first—but it doesn’t take long to turn molten. It’s not rushed, not frantic. It’s everything I’ve wanted to say since the second I saw her in the station earlier.
She melts into it with a quiet sound in the back of her throat that sends something surging through me. Her fingers tangle in the front of my shirt.
When we finally break apart, I rest my forehead against hers.
“Definitely missed you more,” I murmur.
She laughs softly. “Yeah. Same.”
We stand there for another breath, just long enough for the air to shift. Then she tugs gently on the front of my shirt and says, “Come on.”
I follow her down the hall, trying not to smirk like a teenager.
Her room is simple. Warm. A little chaotic in the corners—like she threw her clothes on a chair with the intent of folding them later and then forgot—but it feels like her. Fierce, messy, unfiltered. Real.
I stand in the doorway for a second, just looking.
She turns, watching me watch her. “You gonna stand there all night or—”
I cross the room in two steps.
This time, the kiss isn’t slow.
Then she pulls away to look up at me. “Just… before we do anything, I have to ask. Are you, um—medically cleared to, you know.” She makes a vague motion with her hand.
My eyebrows lift, amused. “Are you asking if I’m cleared for… adult recreational activities?”
Her face goes crimson. “I was trying not to be obvious.”
I grin, stepping closer. “Yes. I’m cleared. But I had to promise two different doctors I’d take it slow.”
At this, she smiles.
Then she tugs off my shirt like she’s been waiting, and I let her. Her hands pause when she sees the scar—pale and angry-looking across my side.
She reaches out, fingers brushing gently over it.
For a second, we both go quiet.
Her touch is soft, reverent.
I want to make a joke. Something about battle scars or how chicks dig wounded warriors. But the words die in my throat because she’s looking at me like I’m breakable.
“I thought—” Her voice catches. “When Jack called, I thought—”
“Hey.” I tip her chin up. “I’m here. I’m okay.”
She nods, but her eyes are glassy. Then, before I can say anything else, she leans in and presses her lips to the scar. Just once. Soft as a promise.
“It’s part of you,” she whispers against my skin. “That makes it perfect.”
I pull her against me, burying my face in her hair. She smells like vanilla and home.
“You scare the hell out of me,” I admit into the curve of her neck.
She exhales like she’s been holding that same truth. “You terrify me too.”
We don’t say anything after that.
We don’t need to.
We just kiss for a long time, like we’re making up for every second we spent apart.
When Andi finally pulls back, I force a breath into my lungs and try to get myself under control.
“How’s the Situation?”
My lips twitch. “Extremely neglected, but otherwise holding up.”
She laughs.
“He’s been asking about you,” I add casually. “Feel free to say hi—or, you know, properly greet him.”
She arches a brow. “Hi?”
I smirk. “Preferably with your mouth.”
She steps closer, and something shifts in her eyes—that look that makes my pulse kick up like I’m sixteen again. She gently nudges me toward the bed.
“Sit,” she murmurs, voice low enough to wreck me.
I do—heart hammering against my ribs, breath uneven—not from nerves, but from the way she’s looking at me. Like I’m the only thing in her universe right now. Like she’s been thinking about this as much as I have.
She lowers herself slowly between my knees, and holy hell, the sight of her there—lavender hair falling forward, bottom lip caught between her teeth—is going to be permanently etched in my brain.
Her hands hover at my waistband for a second. “Still okay?”
“More than,” I manage, voice rougher than I meant it to be.
She smiles—this small, private thing that’s just for me—and her fingers get to work on my jeans. Every movement is deliberate, like she’s unwrapping something important. Something she’s been waiting for.
I reach down and tangle my fingers in her hair, the strands silk-soft against my palm.
“You’re beautiful,” I say, because it’s the truest thing I know right now.
Her cheeks flush pink, but she doesn’t look away.
Doesn’t deflect or make a joke. Just lets the moment be what it is.
One hand grips my thigh while the other moves with sure, steady confidence.
But it’s the way she’s looking at me that undoes me—not just want, but something deeper.
Something that terrifies me as much as it thrills me.
“Andi,” I breathe, and her name comes out like a prayer.
She leans in, her breath warm against me, and I swear time stops. Everything narrows down to this—to her, to us, to the way she makes me feel like I’m coming apart and being put back together all at once.
“I’ve got you,” she whispers, and then her lips are on me, and everything inside me pulls tight and warm and alive.
The past few weeks—all the fear, the grief, the space between us—start to fall away, piece by piece, under the feel of her hand and the soft warmth of her mouth. And for the first time since waking up in that hospital, I feel whole.