“I’ve fought fires for years. Walked into burning buildings, faced down infernos that would terrify most people. But the scariest thing I’ve ever done?” His thumb strokes my cheekbone. “Is falling in love with you.”
My heart stops.
“I know it’s fast. I know we haven’t said it yet. But I’m running into a wildfire in a few hours, and if something happens—if I don’t make it back—I need you to know.” He leans his forehead against mine. “I love you, Solarin. Not because you’re convenient, or because we’re snowed in, or because the sex is incredible. I love you because you’re brave and kind and you chose to trust me even when it terrified you. I love you because when I’m with you, I’m home.”
Tears are streaming down my face. “Ryder—”
“You don’t have to say it back. I just needed you to—”
“I love you too.” The words burst out of me, fierce and certain despite the fear trying to strangle them. “God, I love you so much it scares me. Come back to me.” I grip his shirt with both fists. “You come back to me, you hear me? Because I’m not done with you. Not even close.”
His kiss is desperate, claiming, a promise and a plea all at once. When he finally pulls back, his eyes are bright.
“Now go save lives.” I try to smile through my tears. “That’s what you do.”
He kisses me once more—softer this time, like a benediction—then reluctantly pulls away to finish packing. As I watch him zip up his duffel, the weight of what he just said settles over me, warming the cold fear in my chest.
He loves me. And I love him. Whatever happens, we’ve said it.
He’s out the door in five minutes, his truck’s engine roaring to life in the chilled morning air. I stand on the porch and watch his taillights disappear down the mountain road just as my insides feel like they’re turning to concrete.
I tell myself Ryder’s not abandoning me.
He’s leaving to save lives.
And that somehow makes it worse.
The first day passes in a blur of forced normalcy. I check on the animals, clean enclosures, and prepare medications. Mrs. DeVrayne comes for Duchess and the kittens.
When she has to collect Boots off my pillow from where she’s been sleeping every night, she asks, “You sure you don’t want to keep her? She’s clearly chosen you.”
“I can’t.” The words come out too sharp, too final. “My life’s too unpredictable right now.”
What I don’t say: I can’t commit to anything permanent when I’m realizing that the male I love has a job that could kill him. When I’m admitting to myself that loving Ryder means living with the constant knowledge that every shift could be his last.
After Mrs. DeVrayne leaves, I turn on the news.
Cold coffee sits untouched on the counter; the cabin’s too quiet, every floorboard creaks too loud.
“—wildfire continues to spread despite containment efforts. Firefighters from across the region have been called in to battle the blaze, which has now consumed over five thousand acres and is threatening the residential communities of—”
I watch the footage of flames licking at the sky, of firefighters silhouetted against the inferno, and I can’t breathe.
That’s Ryder. Somewhere in that hellscape, that’s my Ryder.
“Stupid fire!” Peanut squawks from his cage.
“Yeah,” I whisper. “Stupid fire.”
The second day is worse.
More pickups. More phone calls from grateful owners. The Kliborns arrive mid-morning for Jasper, all polished efficiencyand genuine gratitude. “He seems so calm,” Caroline observes. “Whatever you’ve been doing has been wonderful.”
Napoleon and his hens, along with Bonnie, and Clyde leave together in the afternoon—their owners thrilled with how well they’ve been cared for. The yard feels emptier without Napoleon’s imperious crowing.
Mrs. Foster collects Hamlet last, tears in her eyes as he snorts goodbye. “I’m sure he’ll miss you terribly. He looks like he had fun,” she says, and I realize I’ll miss him too—cabinet-opening skills and all.
By evening, only Peanut remains. His owner called to say he’ll collect him on New Year’s Day.
