Holly pulls back, cups her hands around her mouth like she’s about to announce a national emergency, and yells at the top of her lungs:
“UNCLE ASH IS GOING TO MARRY THE LIBRARIAN!”
Time stops.
The bay goes silent. Absolutely dead silent.
Then, the firehouse erupts.
The crew howls, whistles, cheers, bangs on tables, shouts things I’m definitely going to make them run laps for later.
Lucy freezes, still holding Holly, eyes widening in a way that tells me she’s about to spontaneously combust.
My face doesn’t move. I don’t deny it.
I see the exact second that registers in Lucy’s expression. She turns a shade of red I didn’t know existed.
“You— you can’t just— Holly—sweetheart—what…?” Lucy sputters, trying to lower her voice while Holly climbs up further onto her hip and beams like she just won a prize.
“Did you hear me, Miss Lucy?” Holly asks, eyes huge. “Uncle Ash is going to marry you!”
A cough from the far corner. “Bold of the kid, but she’s not wrong.”
I glare at Ramirez. “Don’t you fucking start.”
He smirks. “I didn’t. She did.”
Lucy’s gaze ricochets between me and the crew like she’s trying to find a safe exit route but the building’s on fire.
I stay quiet. Not because I’m embarrassed. Not because I want the teasing to stop. But because every time I open my mouth around her, something honest threatens to slip out, and I can’t afford to drop truth bombs in front of the entire station.
Lucy finally sets Holly down, smoothing her hair with trembling fingers. “Holly, sweetheart, your uncle and I are not?—”
“YET,” Holly interrupts loudly.
I choke. Lucy chokes. The crew absolutely loses their minds.
I pinch the bridge of my nose, trying to look like I’m irritated and failing miserably. Because beneath the mortification and the noise and the chaos, there’s this warm punch of… something.
Something too big. Something I don’t name. Something that’s been growing since the second Lucy arrived in this town.
She looks at me, flustered, waiting for me to jump in and fix this, to deny everything, to diffuse it.
I don’t.
Her eyes widen even more, like she’s silently screaming at me:
Say something! Anything! For the love of God, Ash, fix this!
But I can’t.
Not when the idea doesn’t feel wrong. Not when it feels like the most dangerously right thing I’ve ever heard.
Holly tugs Lucy’s sleeve. “Did you hear me? You’re going to be family!”
Lucy gently crouches, her voice soft. “Holly, I love spending time with you, and I think your uncle is very?—”
“Allergic to feelings?” Ramirez calls out.
