Chapter 39 Patton
PATTON
The wrapped package sits on my desk with its brown paper and twine tied into a bow.
I’ve fought structure fires. Rescued people from collapsed buildings. Faced down situations that would make grown men cry.
I expect this would make me nervous, given the fact that I rehearse what I’ll say for the tenth time this morning, but I’m not. Not really. I just want to get this right.
Through the glass walls separating our offices, Winnie is on the phone, gesturing animatedly—probably about one of the dozen things she juggles simultaneously. Her light pink shirt catches the morning light, and I’m struck by how beautiful she is, even though I get this view every day.
It never gets old, especially not loving her.
She glances up, catches me staring, and waves.
Her smile dazzles me like fireworks. Everlasting fireworks. A front seat to a lifetime show.
I wave back, which is new as she’s pointed out on several occasions.
Three months ago, I would’ve scowled and returned to my computer.
I knew if I crossed the threshold—gave her an inch, let her in—there’d be no going back.
I was right. Now I’m grinning like an idiot at a woman who’s completely rearranged my life.
Austin appears in my doorway, arms crossed, wearing his most annoying smirk. “Are you going to stare at her all day or actually give her the gift?”
“I’m waiting for the right moment.”
“The right moment was an hour ago when she arrived. Now you’re just stalling.”
“I’m strategizing.”
“You’re chickening out.”
I glare at him. “I don’t chicken out.”
“Then go.” He nods toward her office. “Before you burn a hole in that wrapping paper by staring at it.”
I hate that he’s right.
I stand, grab the package, and walk across the hall before I can overthink it. Again.
Winnie wraps up the call when I exit my office. She looks up and her whole face brightens in a way that makes me smile as she meets me halfway.
We gaze at each other for a moment. The hallway that used to be a demilitarized zone between warring departments now feels like harmony.
“I have something for you,” I say.
Her eyes drop to the package. “Is it my birthday?”
“No.”
“Christmas?”
“Winnie.”
“Sorry.” But she’s grinning. “What’s the occasion?”
I take a breath, feeling the weight of what I’m about to say. “I had time to think about us. About my dad. About fear.”
Her smile softens, and she leans against her doorframe, giving me her full attention.
“I’ve been terrified my whole life of hurting someone I love—leaving them behind, destroyed by loss.” The words flow, coming easier than I expected. “But I realized something. She loved my dad completely, knowing the risks. And she’d choose him again.”
Winnie’s eyes are already glistening. “I know. She told me.”
Of course she did.
“I’ve chosen too.” I step closer. “I choose you. Every day. Risks and all.” I hold out the package. “And I would like, finally, to take you on a real date. Tonight.”
She takes the gift with trembling hands just as my radio crackles to life. “Engine Seven, we have a situation at the Henderson property. Possible gas leak. All units responding.”
We both freeze.
“You’re kidding,” Winnie says.
“I wish I were.” I wince. “I’m on call tonight.”
“It’s okay.” She’s already smiling through her disappointment. “Go save the day. We’ll figure out another time.”
“No.” The word comes out firm. “I’m done letting work derail everything. I have an idea.” I take the package back. “Dinner. Here. Tonight. You can open this then.”
Before she can protest, I take off at a jog.
Four hours later, after dealing with what turned out to be Mrs. Weaver’s overactive imagination and a pilot light that was functioning perfectly, I’m back at the station, transforming the empty engine bay into something that suggests an intimate dinner and not an industrial, utilitarian work space.
“Dude, this is intense,” Hayes says, helping me string up lights. “Are you proposing?”
“No!” I blurt. “It’s just dinner.”
Reese chimes in, “With LED candles and twinkle lights and—is that a tablecloth?”
Scotty raises an eyebrow.
“This is not ‘just dinner.’” Reese shakes his head.
“It’s romantic,” Austin supplies helpfully. “Our boy is finally embracing his feelings.”
“I’ve embraced my feelings,” I mutter, adjusting a battery-operated candle that keeps tilting.
James appears with folding chairs. “These are the best we’ve got. Sorry, they’re not fancy.”
“They’ll work.” Dinner in a fire station isn’t the date I’d hoped for, but I’m going to make it work.
When everything is set up and I have the meal prepped, I shower, change into a fresh uniform, and text Winnie.
Me: Whenever you’re done for the day, please come to the station.
Winnie: This better not be another emergency.
Me: Different kind of emergency.
Winnie: Cryptic. I’m intrigued.
And I cannot wait to make this woman mine.