Saxon shifts just enough to kiss the top of my head.
“I’ve got you,” he whispers.
Tears spill down my cheeks. And he holds me tighter. And I know, with absolute terrifying clarity—this isn’t the end of our story.
It’s the beginning.
Chapter Fourteen
Saxon
The night is cold enough that my breath ghosts in front of me, but my whole body is running hot. Too hot. Like the fire I walked into last night decided to take up residence under my skin.
Briar walks beside me toward the station, bundled in a soft sweater, cheeks flushed from the wind. She keeps brushing her hair behind her ear, a nervous habit I’ve learned to read. She’s trying to hide how shaken she still is—from the fire, from last night, from what we almost did against that damn ambulance.
“You’re quiet,” she murmurs.
I grunt. “Thinking.”
“About?”
I flick her a look. “You.”
Her breath stutters. Good. She doesn’t get to pretend anymore. Neither do I. The station comes into view, lights glowing against the evening dark, engines parked in their bays, and—yeah. The idiots actually did it. String lights hang acrossthe garage opening. Warm, golden, twinkling like we’re in some holiday rom-com.
Briar stops short. “What’s?—”
I squeeze her hand. “Come on.”
She stiffens the moment we step closer. “Saxon. Are they?—”
The bay doors hum open, and the crew stands inside the station like they’ve been waiting all night. Which they have. Rowan gives a not-subtle thumbs-up. “Just testing the holiday decorations, Cap.”
Briar laughs—a soft, startled sound that hits something in my chest.
I shoot the guys a warning glare. They scatter like cockroaches, disappearing into offices, out back, anywhere but here. Good. Because what’s about to happen is not theirs to witness. I step into the middle of the bay, lights casting warm shadows over us. Briar follows slowly, her eyes darting around, breath catching, hands twisting nervously.
“Saxon?” she whispers. “What’s going on?”
I turn to her fully. And everything inside me goes still. Not calm. Certain.
She stands there in the glow, hair tousled, eyes wide, wearing that soft sweater I want to drag up her body and replace with my hands. The same woman who ran into smoke looking for her kid. The same woman who holds Junie together with nothing but love and grit. The same woman who has terrified me for weeks—because wanting her feels like standing at the edge of everything I’ve sworn not to have.
But I’m done fighting it. I take her hands.
She stares at them, at me, at the lights above us. Her chest rises hard. “Saxon…”
“No.” I step closer. “Let me say this.”
Her breath trembles.
I lower my voice, rough, honest. “You’re my spark, Briar.”
She swallows. “Saxon…”
“You lit me up the second you walked into that hallway with a paper crown stuck in your hair.” I squeeze her fingers. “You crashed into my life like you were meant to be there.”
She laughs, tears in her eyes. “That doesn’t make any sense.”
