Chapter 5
Chapter Five
Ash
The firehouse smells like it always does—coffee, diesel, stale donuts, and the kind of lingering smoke that never quite washes out of turnout gear. It’s familiar. Predictable. Mine.
Holly sits on the steps with her stuffed reindeer tucked under her arm, humming something cheerful while she draws in my old shift notebook.
She’s been doing that a lot lately—making the place her own.
I don’t stop her. Hell, I like seeing the firehouse through her eyes.
Softer. Brighter. She’s only been with me for a month and already having her with me feels like home.
I don’t know how long her momma will be deployed, but I know I’ll be sad the day I have to send her home.
“Uncle Ash,” she says, swinging her feet. “Can we make cookies tonight?”
“Maybe,” I answer. “Depends on how work goes.”
She groans dramatically. “Work ALWAYS goes.”
Before I can respond, footsteps echo down the hall. Light. Purposeful. Too familiar. Then a voice—hers.
“Hi! I’m dropping off the donation box for your holiday drive!”
I swear I feel my pulse leap like it’s trying to knock out of my throat.
Lucy Snow walks into the bay holding a crate of books like she’s stepping onto a damn parade float. Scarf wrapped around her neck, hair curled around her shoulders, cheeks pink from the cold. She looks like she was designed in a lab to test my self-control.
Holly gasps, drops her reindeer, and launches toward her. “LUCY!”
Lucy laughs, bending down just in time to catch her. “Hi, sweet girl! I missed you!”
I freeze. Missed her? Holly clings to Lucy like she’s her long-lost aunt. Lucy hugs her back without hesitation, warm and confident and natural. My chest tightens in a way I’m not prepared for.
Lucy pulls back, brushing hair from Holly’s face. “Look at you. Are you helping keep the firehouse in line?”
Holly nods vigorously. “Always. They need help.”
Lucy grins and glances up at me. “I can see that.”
I cross my arms. “Didn't expect you today.”
“Clearly.” She gestures at the donation box. “Brought books. A whole crate.”
I eye the box. “That’s… a lot.”
“I’m a librarian, Ash. This is foreplay.”
I choke.
She blinks. “Prep work. I meant prep work.”
Holly giggles like she knows exactly what Lucy didn’t mean, and Lucy’s face goes a shade pinker.
“Anyway,” Lucy continues, clearing her throat, “I thought the kids in town might like some holiday books at the firehouse. For events. Or waiting rooms. Or emergency cuddles.”
Holly gasps again. “Emergency cuddles!”
I rub a hand over my jaw, fighting a smile. “You spoil her.”
“Impossible,” Lucy says, tightening her hold around Holly.
Holly beams up at her. “Are you staying?”
Lucy hesitates. “Well… I don’t want to interrupt anything.”
Before I can answer, Holly tugs her toward the room. “We can read! You can read me the snow princess book!”
Lucy looks over her shoulder at me. “If that’s okay?”
It shouldn’t be. It’s not part of any plan. Not safe. Not smart. But the thought of telling her no feels wrong in a way that hits deep.
“Yeah,” I say. “It’s fine.”
Holly drags her like an excited puppy. Lucy lets herself be pulled, laughing as they go.
I stand there for a second, breathing harder than anyone reading a picture book deserves.
Then I follow. Holly piles onto the bed with Lucy, placing the snow princess book between them like it’s a treasure.
Lucy sits cross-legged, the soft glow from the overhead bulbs illuminating her hair, her smile, the kind of warmth she carries like a second skin. I take the chair in the corner.
Far enough not to look like a creep. Close enough that I can watch.
Lucy opens the book, her voice soft but animated. She gives characters accents. Makes them laugh. Makes Holly laugh. Makes the room feel brighter than the fluorescent lights overhead. Holly rests her head on Lucy’s shoulder halfway through.
Lucy doesn’t even pause. She adjusts her hold, tucks Holly closer, and keeps reading like she’s done this a thousand times.
Something sharp and unexpected pulls tight inside my chest. When the book ends, Holly lets out a dreamy sigh and curls against Lucy’s side like she found her favorite place in the world.
Lucy rubs her back without thinking. “You okay, hon?”
Holly nods. “I miss Mommy sometimes,” she whispers. “But I like it here.”
Lucy stills, meeting my eyes across the room. I look away. I can’t— Not with her looking at me like that.
Holly continues, soft and honest in the way only kids can be. “Uncle Ash reads me books before bed. And we bake cookies. I didn’t know men could cook.”
Lucy bites her lip to hide a smile.
I roll my eyes. “I cook fine.”
“You burn grilled cheese,” Holly says.
“One time.”
“Three times.”
Lucy presses a hand to her mouth to smother a laugh.
“Traitor,” I mutter.
Holly snuggles even closer to Lucy. “Uncle Ash is like my pretend daddy.”
My heartbeat stutters. Lucy seems to stop breathing. Holly sighs. “I like having a pretend daddy.”
She looks up at Lucy. “Do you have a daddy?”
Lucy hesitates. Then she speaks quietly.
“I had a grandma. She and mommy and Uncle Ash raised me. Every Christmas she helped me decorate my room. We’d hang garlands and lights and read stories.
She was my favorite person in the whole world but she died last year, that’s why Uncle Ash has to watch me now while mommy works away. ”
Holly’s voice softens. “Do you miss her?”
“Every day,” Lucy says.
Holly nods and rests her head on Lucy’s lap. “I miss her and Mommy every day.”
Lucy brushes Holly’s hair back with gentle fingers. “Missing someone means you loved them. That’s a good thing.”
Holly closes her eyes. I swear the room shifts around me. Lucy looks at me again—really looks. Like she’s seeing past the uniform, past the scowl, past the weight I carry. And something in her gaze changes. Softens. Warms. Breaks me down without touching me.
She whispers—too soft for Holly to hear, but not too soft for me: “You’re doing a good job, Ash.”
I swallow hard. “Trying.”
“You’re not trying,” she counters quietly. “You’re protecting her. You’re giving her safety and love and stability when her whole world changed. That’s not trying. That’s showing up. That’s… everything.”
Her voice hits something raw. Something I don’t let anyone get close to.
I look away because if I don’t, I might say something I can’t take back.
Holly falls asleep five minutes later, curled against Lucy with a death grip on her sweater.
Lucy whispers, “Should I move her?”
“No,” I say. “She’ll wake.”
Lucy nods, stroking Holly’s hair with soft, steady movements. She looks… different like this. Softer. Almost fragile. I can’t stop watching her. The way her fingers move gently.
The way her shoulders curve protectively around Holly. The way she hums a little tune under her breath, probably without realizing. It hits me harder than I expect.
I clear my throat. “So. Books.”
She lifts a brow. “Yes, Lieutenant Calder. Books. They exist. I know that’s shocking for you.”
“I read.” The words are too defensive, too fast.
She grins. “Oh yeah? Something dangerous, I assume. Like the town code manual.”
“I’ve read that.”
“Of course you have.” She smirks. “You probably read it for fun.”
“It’s not fun.”
“Then why did you read it?”
I look at her. “Someone has to keep people like you alive.”
She bites her lip. “People like me?”
“People who fall off ladders.”
“It was one ladder.”
“Uh-huh.”
“And it wasn’t my fault.”
“You climbed it.”
She laughs quietly so she won’t wake Holly. “You’re impossible.”
“You’re reckless.”
Her eyes flick up to mine, warm and amused. “And you love having someone to lecture.”
“Maybe.”
She tilts her head. “Maybe?”
I shrug. “You give me a lot of material.”
Her mouth curves. “You’re not as grumpy as you pretend to be.”
“That’s a dangerous assumption.”
“No,” she says softly, eyes flicking over my face. “I think grumpy is your shield.”
I go still.
She keeps going. “And I think you’re softer than you want anyone to know.”
My jaw tightens. “Lucy.”
“I mean it,” she whispers. “What you’re doing for her… I can’t imagine how hard it is. But you’re doing it. And you’re doing it well.”
I look away because I don’t know how to hold her gaze and keep my composure at the same time.
“You don’t know me,” I say quietly.
“I’m learning,” she says, just as quiet.
Something flickers between us. Something I don’t have a name for. Something hot and fragile and dangerous. I stand abruptly. “I should… check the truck.”
Lucy nods slowly, studying me like she’s reading the fine print on my soul.
I get halfway to the door when she calls softly, “Ash?”
I stop. “Thank you,” she says. “For letting me be here. With her.”
My chest tightens. “She likes you.”
“I like her too.”
Her voice gentles. “And… I like being around you.”
I freeze.
She rushes to add, “Not like that. I mean—well—maybe like that, but also not—”
I turn. She stops talking. Her cheeks flush. I walk back to her—slow, steady, controlled. She looks up at me, breath catching. I lean down just enough that she can feel my warmth.
“Be careful with what you say,” I murmur. “I’m not great at pretending I didn’t hear something.”
Her heartbeat stutters in her throat. “I didn’t mean—”
“Yeah,” I interrupt softly. “You did.”
Her lips part.
Something inside me pulls—hard. She’s inches away. Sleeping kid between us. No room to get closer, no reason to stay. But I stay. Because I want to. Because part of me—big, stupid, dangerous—likes the way she looks at me. Like whatever she sees doesn’t scare her off.
Finally, I straighten. “Let her sleep,” I say quietly. “I’ll take her home in a few.”
Lucy nods, brushing Holly’s hair again, voice low. “Okay.”
I force myself to step back. One step. Two. Then I turn and walk out of the room before I do something I’ll regret. Like reach for her. Like touch her face again. Like kiss her.
Because if I ever touch her like that?
I’m not sure I’ll stop.
And that—
That’s what scares me most.