“You doing okay?” I ask.
“I—I think so.” She laughs nervously. “They all know.”
“Yeah.”
“You’re not bothered?”
“No.” I step closer. “You?”
She swallows. “Not really.”
That tiny admission sends heat through me.
Before she can turn away, Holly grabs her hand. “Miss Lucy, come see the truck—in the back bay! It has lights!”
Lucy shoots me a smile—soft, excited, unbearably sweet—and lets Holly pull her toward the rear apparatus doors.
I follow because I’ll always follow this woman.
The back bay is quiet compared to the main room. The ladder truck is parked there glowing under strings of twinkle lights we hung two nights ago. Snow falls beyond the open doorway, flakes drifting like feathers, the mountain invisible beyond the haze.
Lucy steps closer to the truck, eyes wide. “Oh… wow.”
Holly beams. “It’s magic.”
Lucy touches the cold metal of the bumper, her breath fogging in the air. She turns back toward me. “Did you decorate this?”
“Yeah.”
“It’s beautiful.”
“Thank you.”
She smiles at me, slow and full of something I can’t look away from.
I walk toward her, each step deliberate. I’m not pretending anymore. I’m not hiding anything. When I reach her, I place two fingers under her chin and gently tilt her face up to mine.
Her breath stutters.
“Lucy,” I say quietly.
“Yes?”
“This isn’t a spark anymore.” My thumb brushes her jaw—slow, claiming. “It’s an inferno.”
Her lips part, her eyes darken.
“And I’m keeping it.”
Her breath leaves her in a shocked, soft exhale. “Ash…”
“You don’t scare me,” I say. “You don’t confuse me. You don’t… make me unsure. You just make me want you.”
The tremble in her lower lip just about kills me.
“And if you want out,” I add, “say it now. Say it before I go any further.”
Her eyes fill—not tears, but something brighter, deeper.
