“And then someone tried to take it from me,” she continues, her grip tightening on the microphone just slightly. “They burned it down and tried to convince me that meant I was finished. They didn’t care who they hurt, either. They lit the building, irrespective of who could have been inside. They did that to tell me no one here mattered.”
The room is so quiet I can hear the hum of the lights.
She lifts her chin. “What I learned is that no matter what burns, we all matter here.”
A murmur ripples through the crowd, a collective intake of breath, and my eyes sting.
“Roz, you are the backbone of this place. I couldn’t do it without you. You wouldn’t let me walk away. You wouldn’t let my dream die. My staff, all of you, are the reason this place is what it is and what it can be. And this community… my patrons, my friends, my neighbors, you have dug deep to help us, and there are no words to express how grateful I am to each and every one of you. Melissa, for dropping off meals for the crew. Hal’s Lightbulb Emporium, for keeping us out of the dark. Those of you I haven’t met yet, who dropped off envelopes without saying a word. I see you. And I love you, too.”
Finally, her gaze shifts. It finds me in the crowd, unerringly, like it always does.
“And someone in particular,” she says, her voice softening, “reminded me that I’m stronger than I think. That second chances are real. That it’s never too late to fight for what you want.”
My breath catches.
She doesn’t say my name. She doesn’t need to. Everyone in the room knows exactly who she’s talking about. So does Mason, who’s perched near the front with Carlie, eyes shining as he looks between us.
“So thank you,” Harper finishes, her voice thick but sure. “All of you. For giving me my dream back.”
The applause is immediate and thunderous.
People stand. Someone whistles. Roz wipes at her cheeks and pulls Harper into a fierce hug as she steps away from the mic. I clap until my hands hurt, my heart pounding so hard I’m not sure how it’s staying inside my chest.
This is the moment I’ve been waiting for, the moment I knew I couldn’t interrupt but had to follow. I step forward before I can second-guess myself and take the microphone from the stand.
Harper turns toward me, confusion flickering across her face, her brows knitting like she’s trying to figure out what I’m doing. She opens her mouth, probably to ask if I’m about to make some kind of firefighter joke or add a thank-you she forgot.
I take a breath and look out at the faces watching us—my crew, her staff, friends, family, the people who showed up when everything burned.
The microphone feels heavier than it should.
I’ve spoken in front of crowds before—briefings, press statements, safety talks—but this is different. My mouth dries completely. My palms are soaked. Somehow, my skin is tight.
But when I look in her eyes, it all settles. All but my heart.
“I’m not going to be long,” I tell her, my voice carrying easily through the room. A few people laugh softly, the tension easing just a notch. Then I look out on the crowd. “Mostly because this night isn’t about me.”
I pause, gathering my thoughts.
“This bar,” I continue, gesturing around us, “isn’t just a business. It’s a place people came to feel welcomed. To celebrate. To catch their breath after a hard day. When it burned, a lot of us felt that loss, even if we didn’t have the words for it at the time.”
Familiar faces nod along.
“What happened here reminded me of something I learned on the job,” I say. “Fire takes what it can. But it doesn’t get the last word. People do.”
Out of the corner of my eye, Garrett leans toward Theo and whispers something, his grin unmistakable even from across the room. Then he gives me a subtle nod, the kind we use on calls when everyone’s in position and it’s time to move.
My chest tightens. I know she sees it on my face. She’s not sure what she sees—but she knows something is up. Quietly, she asks, “You okay?”
“Yeah,” I rasp honestly. I take a breath, then raise my hand slightly, a signal that tells the crew to kill the lights. All but the string lights, glowing over us.
Harper looks at me, confused again. “Aiden?”
I meet her gaze and smile. Can’t help myself. This isn’t just a question.
It’s a promise.
A hush falls over the bar. The room goes completely still.
