“And you love it,” Ash says.
“I absolutely do not.”
Dax laughs then—full and warm and completely unbothered. “She does.”
Axel claps his hands. “Alright, lovebirds. Coffee’s on. Rory, you’re officially responsible for Hayes smiling before noon.”
I slide off the couch, smoothing my hair, trying to reclaim dignity that left me somewhere around the wolf whistle. Dax stands with me, towering, solid, unapologetically close.
As the crew disperses, Ash pauses beside us. His tone softens just a fraction. “About damn time.”
Dax nods once. “Yeah.”
The firehouse empties into motion—coffee brewing, radios crackling, the day reasserting itself. I realize with a strange sense of wonder that nothing feels ruined. Nothing feels broken.
If anything, it feels claimed.
Dax leans in, voice low. “You okay?”
I meet his gaze. “I think I am.”
He smiles like that means everything.
We move toward the kitchen together, shoulders brushing, steps in sync. The snow outside gleams, the storm officially over.
And for the first time, the morning after doesn’t feel like a question.
It feels like a beginning.
Chapter 13
Dax
The firehouse smells like burned coffee and snow-soaked gear, the kind of morning-after normal that should make everything feel smaller. Manageable. Back in its box.
It doesn’t.
Rory stands at the counter, hands wrapped around a mug she hasn’t touched, staring out the window like the mountain might give her instructions. She’s wearing my hoodie again. The sight hits low and hard—possessive in a way I don’t bother trying to soften.
I cross the room without thinking. Stop close. Close enough that she has to feel me there.
“You okay?” I ask.
She glances sideways. A smile ghosts her mouth, uncertain but real. “I think so. Still processing.”
“Yeah.” I nod once. “Same.”
Silence stretches. Not awkward. Weighted. The kind that asks something of you.
I’ve hidden in silence my whole life.
Not today.
I reach for her mug and slide it aside, taking her hands instead. Warm. Steady. She doesn’t pull away.
“Rory,” I say, and the way her name lands between us feels deliberate. Chosen. “I need to say something. Out loud.”
Her breath hitches. “Okay.”
