Epilogue
SAVANNAH
Five Months Later
“East, I made a mistake.” Springer looks up at me from where he’s flat on the floor of the apparatus bay. “Help me. Please.” He mouths the final word, his face sharing a silent scream while a dozen kids under ten compete for his attention.
There’s a good chance he’ll end up with PTSD after today.
“Looks like you have this handled, boss.” I chuckle, planting my hands on my hips. “Hey, kids.” All eyes turn to me. “Who here wants Springer to show them the truck’s flashing lights?”
Every grubby hand points in the air. Springer groans.
“It’s a good thing. Gets you off the floor at least.” I laugh to myself as Nix walks in.
She’s dressed to kill in daisy dukes and Jimmy Choo wedges. Possibly a little glam for a Labor Day barbecue at the local fire hall, but she looks fine as hell.
Springer freezes.
As does Nix. “Oh. Sorry. Didn’t know you were in here. I was looking for Sav.”
His eyes linger on her for a moment and then he turns back to the kids, lifting them one by one into the truck cab like they weigh no more than a bag of chips. All while continuing to sneak puppy-dog glances at Nix.
I sidle over and bump her shoulder. “He’s great with them.”
She scowls. “So?”
“Just making small talk.”
She grumbles something to herself.
I try to temper my smile. “What did you need me for?”
“Wanted to check the plans for next week’s field trip.”
“Really? And you couldn’t have asked me about that, oh, I don’t know, literally any time at home this week?”
“It made sense to check now. While I’m here.” She’s still scowling, but her cheeks are uncharacteristically pink.
“You’re right. You absolutely didn’t come in here to see Springer. And you definitely don’t like him.” I waggle my brows with a giggle.
I still don’t know the full details of what went down between the two of them after the night at Brodie’s mom and dad’s. Pretty sure they hooked up a couple more times, but then nothing. And now they both refuse to talk about it.
She hits me with the full force of her glare. All-out feisty Nix. “You’re way off base, Sav. There’s nothing going on between me and Brock.”
“Hence you turning up today looking like you’re ready to slay.”
“What’s wrong with how I look?”
“Nothing. You’re gorgeous. But don’t even think about denying that you put that little ensemble together for maximum impact.”
She folds her arms, sticking her tongue out at me.
I go to crack up as Brodie strolls in, my breath hitching instead. I clasp my hands in an effort to stop myself from clambering into his arms. I can’t. Dry humping would be inappropriate in front of the children. “How’s the barbecue doing?”
His hand snakes to my back and he hooks his fingers into the pocket of my too-big regulation pants. “Choke’s in his element. Let’s be honest, top chef and firefighter combined, the man knows how to handle a grill. Food will be ready in five.”
“Maybe you should go rescue your brother and we’ll take the kids back to their families.”
“Sure.” He doesn’t leave, his eyes sweeping over my face. “Have I told you how beautiful you are?”
“Only about a dozen times today.”
“Well, that’s not nearly enough.” He dips his head and shares a lingering kiss.
“Alright, you two. We all get it. You’re hopelessly and totally in love, which is adorable. Truly. Now can you stop radiating couple energy at full blast?” Nix sighs, but she’s not really mad. Her eyes are smiling. “Go save your brother.”
He salutes. “Yes, ma’am.”
I link arms with Nix. “Barbecue time. Hungry?”
“Not really.” She tugs herself free and saunters over to where Brodie and Springer are struggling to make the kids listen to them.
Planting her fingers between her lips, she delivers a piercing whistle. Silence descends and three seconds later the kids are lined up in height order.
Holy shit, she is a witch. Or Mary Poppins.
Springer’s mouth falls open like she’s bewitched him too. Or maybe he was already entirely under her spell.
Brodie gives a round of applause.
“Lunchtime.” Her voice is all bossy teacher. “Follow Springer around to the quad.”
Like perfect angels, they do as they’re told and I tag along as well.
As I reach the quad, I take a moment to soak in the scene.
The place is jumping with locals from the community, along with the crew and their respective families.
Meaning, among others, Brodie’s adorable gram, looking a picture in baby pink, and the person chatting with her is someone who’s taking their first public holiday in years—my dad.
Admittedly he’s looking rather more formal than everyone else, but at least he’s not wearing a tie.
The food’s dished out, the crew helping to serve kebabs and hotdogs, the smoky aroma of the grill making my stomach rumble, and then Kendall’s standing on a makeshift platform, delivering his own sharp whistle. For the record, Nix’s was louder.
Everyone turns to him.
“Thank you for coming along to celebrate Labor Day with us. It’s a beautiful day for a barbecue.
” He manages one of his weird grimace smiles.
“Here at Hall Eight we have a lot to celebrate. Thanks to the injection of funding we received a few months back, we have a fantastic community project beginning next week, spearheaded by our newest full member of the crew, Savannah East. She will be leading us in outreach, starting with a series of field trips in conjunction with local teacher Nix Hughes and Comox Elementary.” Kendall nods in mine and Nix’s direction and my cheeks heat.
“And that brings me to my second announcement. As well as receiving funding, something else happened a few months back that put Eight on the map. A local journalist with a gift for words wrote an exceptional feature about what we do here and why community fire halls like ours are so vital. And I’ve just been given a heads-up that the writer of that piece has been nominated for a prestigious national award.
Congratulations, Brodie. Here’s to you taking home the prize. ”
I turn to Brodie with a gasp. “Oh my god. Did you know about this?”
It only takes a glance at his face to know he didn’t have a clue, but before I can say anything else, others barrel in to congratulate him.
Nix. Trip. Romeo. Mullet. Brad. Springer.
Brodie’s mom pulls him into a hug, and then he’s standing face-to-face with both our dads.
Another sight I would never have predicted.
Like night and day, our fathers couldn’t be more different. Mr. Holt’s taller, face gnarled from a lifetime of grind. Wild hair like Brodie’s. My dad’s built but smooth. Pristine hair. A sharp edge to every item he’s wearing.
Brodie locks eyes with my dad. “Was this you?”
He shakes his head. Once. Efficient. “Absolutely not.” He reaches out and shakes Brodie’s hand. Just the right side of painful by the looks of things. “You wrote an excellent piece, Brodie. All credit to you. Very well deserved.”
He darts a look to me.
Dad and I haven’t seen a ton of each other these past few months, but we’ve been working on rebuilding our relationship.
Or maybe building it. From scratch. An actual father–daughter relationship that’s functional and not rooted in control, grief, and guilt.
Specifically with no more secret taps, or photographs snapped through a zoom lens.
Stepping to the side, I link arms with him as Brodie faces his own father.
I also wouldn’t say the two of them are sunshine and flowers. I don’t think Mr. Holt could ever be sunshine and flowers about anything. But they’re starting to build something together. The forthcoming hockey season seems to be safe ground.
Mr. Holt shuffles on the spot, his eyes narrowed as he studies Brodie.
They’re the same height and I’m once again struck by how similar they look.
It’s easy to imagine how identikit Mr. Holt likely was to Brodie when he was in his twenties.
I squeeze my own dad’s arm, aware that’s exactly why he didn’t want Brodie around.
Meanwhile, Mr. Holt still hasn’t said anything, his mouth opening and closing like a fish.
Brodie’s mom intervenes in the standoff, taking her husband’s hand. “I think what your dad’s wanting to say, honey, is that he’s super proud of you.”
Mr. Holt mumbles something. Possibly “uh-huh.”
“Thanks, Dad.” Brodie shares a smile at them before glancing over to me.
Our eyes collide and as seems to happen every damn time, a fire is ignited somewhere behind my belly button, spreading instantly through every atom of my body. I give the smallest of nods. A subtle meet me inside type nod.
Turning on my heel, I find Springer watching us. Maybe my nod wasn’t quite so subtle because I get the impression he knows exactly what’s going on.
He winks before guiding our fathers in the opposite direction. “Dad. Mr. Archer. I want to introduce you to Choke. He’s been dying to meet you both.”
I make a silent note to thank Springer later as I hotfoot it from the quad.
And knock straight into Linda. Dammit.
She beams at me. “Gosh, honey, where’s the fire?”
There’s multiple ways I could answer that question right now, but none of them would be remotely appropriate. “Can’t stop. You should go grab a hotdog before they’re all gone. Choke’s cooked up a storm out there.” I duck inside.
With the barbecue in full swing, the station’s dead quiet. I walk past Ladder Eight and find myself opening the door to the locker room. The light snaps on.
It’s still my favorite place in the whole fire hall. I run my hand over our turnout gear hanging neatly in a row, the heavy fabrics swinging back and forth.
This is my actual world. I’ve done it. No more secrets. No more guilt. Saving lives. Allowing myself to be loved.
Living life like I matter.
I hear the door open and close behind me. I don’t need to turn to know that it’s Brodie as goosebumps break out down my arms.
“Hey.” He breathes. Slow. Controlled. “Fancy seeing you here.” He takes a step.
I hear him move, but it’s more than that. I feel his warmth against the back of my neck.
I turn and meet his gaze, my heart pounding so hard my knees tremble. “Congratulations on the nomination. That’s amazing.”
“Thanks. Don’t think it’s sunk in yet.” His hand finds its way to my hip, grasping hold, his thumb rhythmically stroking. “What I do know is that I’ve missed you.”
“When? We’ve been together all afternoon.”
“Yeah, but there’s also been way too many other people as well.”
He steps closer still and I take a step back. And again. And again. We continue this dance until my back knocks against the door to the laundry room.
He glances at where we’ve landed and cocks a brow. “You want to do some laundry?”
“No.” I trace a finger down his chest. “Although it wouldn’t be the first time I’ve had a naked man in there. And I’m always up for seconds.”
“You’re so fucking bad.”
“Yep. And that’s why you love me so much.” Snaking my arms around his waist, I pull him hard against me.
“You’re right. I really do love you.” His eyes dart over my face, lingering on my mouth.
I snap out a sigh. “Are you going to kiss me, or what?”
His eyes flare. “You could always kiss me.”
Narrowing my gaze, I zone in on his lips. “You’re right. Guess that’s exactly what—”
The station’s alarm blasts. This time we both jump. And then groan. And then laugh.
I brush a quick peck to his mouth and then duck out from behind him to grab my gear.
He leans back against the laundry room door, all casual, arms folded, watching as I tug on my bunker pants.
“Enjoying the view?”
“Always.”
“Are you going to stay hanging out here?”
“Course.” He smirks. “We’re not done.”
Another jolt of heat. “I know.”