I stare at her like she’s speaking a language I’ve never learned.
She looks down at her hands. “My dad was a volunteer firefighter.”
I blink. “What?”
“Wildfire crew.” She swallows. “Rural team. He joined after serving in the Army. He loved the work. Said saving lives made sense to him.” Her voice cracks. “He died in a forest fire when I was ten.”
I straighten, something sharp cutting through my chest. “Briar…”
She shakes her head quickly. “It was a long time ago. But I still remember the smell of smoke on his clothes. I used to hug him and feel this… this pride. Like my dad was a hero.” She inhales shakily. “And then one day he didn’t come home.”
I don’t move. Don’t breathe.
“I think that’s why I stayed away from men who do what you do,” she murmurs. “Firefighters. Rescuers. Protectors. Heroes.” Her jaw trembles. “I associate you with loss.”
The words hit harder than any blow I’ve taken.
“And then I dated someone who was nothing like my dad,” she continues bitterly. “Thought I was choosing safe. Stable. Predictable.”
“Your ex.”
She nods.
“He wasn’t any of those,” I say.
“No.” She lets out a quiet laugh. “At least I had the good sense not to marry him. Turns out I have terrible instincts about men.”
“That’s not true.”
She meets my eyes. “Isn’t it?”
I’m close to reaching for her. I can feel the urge crawling beneath my skin. She looks at the porch boards again. “I’m scared, Saxon.”
My voice drops. “Of me?”
“Of choosing wrong again.” She swallows. “Of letting someone close and losing them.”
I shift toward her, my knee pressing fully against hers now. “Look at me.”
She does. Slowly. Her eyes shine in the low light. Vulnerable. Brave.
“I’m not him,” I say.
“I know.”
“I’m not your dad.”
“I know.”
“I won’t disappear on you.”
She says nothing. Her breath trembles. I reach out—slow, deliberate—and cup her face.
Her breath stutters. Her lips part. My thumb brushes her cheek, then down to the corner of her mouth. Her eyes flutter. “Saxon…”
“You can trust me,” I murmur.
Her hands, small and warm, clutch the hem of my shirt like she needs something to hold onto. I lean in. Closer. And closer. Her nose brushes mine. Her breath mingles with my own.
