Her breaths come in ragged gasps. “You’re… you’re crazy.”
I trail a thumb over her nipple, drawing her to my mouth. “Then welcome to crazy, baby. Now say it.”
“Yours. I’ll always be yours.”
And I feel it, I feel every dream I never thought was mine to dream. I see it all unfolding before my eyes with this woman by my side.
Ember is my love. My life. My everything.
Second Epilogue
Three years later
Ember
The firehouse sounds different when it’s full of children.
Not quieter—never quieter—but warmer. Softer around the edges. Laughter doesn’t ricochet the way it used to; it settles, sinks into the concrete, lingers like it belongs there now. Balloons bob against steel beams. Streamers loop around poles that once held turnout gear. Someone—Ash, probably—has rigged the old station speakers to play a playlist that swings wildly between classic rock and children’s songs, because apparently no one was put in charge of quality control.
Boone stands near the bay doors with our son perched on his hip, one big hand splayed protectively across a small back that’s currently vibrating with excitement.
“Daddy,” Theo announces loudly, pointing at Engine One like it might sprout wings and fly away without him, “horn!”
Boone huffs, amused. “You don’t say.”
Theo squirms, impatient, curls bouncing. “Horn, Daddy. Please.”
I lean against the table where Savannah and Lucy are arguing about whether cupcakes count as cake, watching Boone with the soft ache that still surprises me three years in. He’s broader now, stronger in a way that has nothing to do with muscle. The limp is still there on cold days, but it doesn’t define him. Nothing does anymore.
“You’re going to cave,” I call over.
Boone glances at me, mouth tilting. “I don’t cave.”
“You folded the second he smiled at you this morning.”
Theo grins like he knows exactly how much power he has.
Boone sighs theatrically. “I’m surrounded by traitors.”
He shifts Theo down, crouches, and lifts him up onto the truck seat with practiced ease. “One honk,” he warns. “Then we’re done.”
Theo’s hand slaps the horn with unfiltered joy. The sound blares through the bay, followed immediately by cheers from the crew and shrieks of laughter from the kids. Somewhere behind me, Captain Saxon groans like his soul just left his body.
I laugh, shaking my head, as Boone lifts Theo back down and presses a kiss to his hair, all gruff tenderness and quiet pride. Theo wraps his arms around Boone’s neck and plants a slobbery kiss on his cheek in return.
“Best day ever,” Theo declares.
Boone meets my eyes over our son’s head, expression gone soft. “Yeah, bud. It is.”
At my feet, something tugs at my pant leg. I look down just in time to see one of our twin girls—Mara—pull herself upright using my jeans as leverage. Her sister, June, crawls over, determined not to be left behind. They’re both round-cheeked and curious, hair just starting to curl, eyes already full of trouble.
“Up,” Mara demands, holding out sticky hands.
“You don’t even have words yet,” I tell her.
She shrieks, delighted, because she knows she’s winning.
I scoop them both up, one on each hip, the familiar weight grounding me. “You two are going to take this place over someday.”
