Boone snorts. “They already run my house.”
“Your house?” I echo.
“Our house,” he corrects smoothly, stepping closer. “I know better than to claim sole ownership.”
He reaches out, fingers brushing my wrist, then Mara’s hand, then June’s cheek, like he’s checking in with all of us at once. His gaze lingers on me, dark and intent, the same way it always has. The look that saysminewithout ever needing to say it out loud.
Lucy wanders over, eyeing the twins. “They’re getting big.”
“That’s how time works,” Boone says dryly.
She grins. “You’re still grumpy.”
“Only on special occasions.”
Theo barrels into my legs again, arms wrapping tight. “Mommy, look! Uncle Ash let me wear his hat.”
I glance up to see Ash pretending he doesn’t notice the oversized firehouse cap sliding down Theo’s face. Boone clears his throat.
“Ash,” he calls, voice carrying.
Ash looks over, feigning innocence. “What?”
“If my son trips over your helmet and breaks his neck?—”
“Dramatic,” I mutter.
“—I will end you,” Boone finishes calmly.
Ash laughs, unbothered. “Worth it.”
The cake comes out shortly after—red frosting, because Theo insisted fire trucks are red and therefore everything should be red. Candles flicker. The crew gathers around, a semicircle of uniforms and civilians and kids with sugar on their faces. Boone stands behind Theo, hands steadying his shoulders as everyone sings.
Theo blows out the candles with all the seriousness of a man making a wish that actually matters.
“What’d you wish for?” Lucy asks.
Theo thinks, then shrugs. “More trucks.”
Boone nods approvingly. “Good goal.”
As the party drifts back into controlled chaos, Boone and I slip toward the edge of the bay, the twins babbling between us. The sun slants in through the open doors, dust catching light like sparks.
“Remember when you hated this place?” I ask lightly.
Boone’s mouth quirks. “I never hated it.”
“You avoided it like it was on fire.”
“Fair,” he concedes. He watches Theo chase a balloon across the floor. “I was afraid.”
I know what he means. He doesn’t have to say it.
“You thought if you let yourself want this,” I say quietly, “you’d lose it.”
He looks at me then, really looks, eyes steady. “I thought if I lived, something bad would happen.”
I shift June higher on my hip. “And now?”
