Because if this fails, I lose everything. The building. Captain Kendrick’s legacy. The future I’m trying to build—for me, for the crew, for this town.
And maybe, if I’m being honest, for Winnie too.
“They’re crooked,” I mutter.
Austin appears with Oreo, our Dalmatian, wearing a red bandana for the occasion. “Doors open in five minutes. Everyone ready?”
Hayes adjusts his apron. “Ready as we’ll ever be.”
James straightens the stack of pastry boxes. “The Crush Cakes look good.”
“They look amazing,” Austin corrects.
The confidence in his voice steadies me. We’ve worked too hard for this to fail. The old firehouse has been transformed—exposed brick, modern lighting, the original brass pole gleaming. Crush Cakes fill the display cases in every flavor we perfected.
I inhale the scent of vanilla and butter and determination.
Austin’s lips ripple with a smile as if he’s holding something back. Please don’t let him badger me about Winnie or the bet right now. Instead, he says, “Dare I say we’re going tocrushthis.”
At that, we burst into laughter, and at exactly ten a.m., we unlock the doors.
The town floods in.
Within an hour, it’s clear the opening is a success.
People love the concept. Love the story behind it. Love that their firefighters are serving them Crush Cakes with the same dedication they bring to saving lives.
I watch from behind the counter as the crew works together seamlessly—Austin charming customers, James explaining the Crush Cake origin story. Reese is in the back, baking andmaking sure we never run out of anything. Hayes and Scotty manage the steady stream of orders. This is what the captain wanted. A family. A legacy. Something that lasts.
“Lieutenant Cross, you did good.” Mayor Barbie shakes my hand. “Captain Kendrick would be so pleased.”
The words lodge in my throat. “Thank you, ma’am.”
She waggles her eyebrows. “The Crush Cakes concept is quite fitting, considering I had a crush on him.”
“You did?” I’m not sure what to say, but I glimpse Winnie, documenting everything for Huckleberry Hill Parks & Rec social media. She wears a fitted, light red sweater, cream pants, and cute little sneakers that make her look like springtime personified, and every time our eyes meet across the bakery, I remind myself to take a breath.
She understands why this matters as she captures the details—the brass pole as kids take rides down it, the crew laughing together, and the satisfied faces of customers tasting their first Crush Cake.
“This is amazing,” she says, appearing beside me.
“It was a team effort.”
“You’re the captain. You should be proud.”
“We’ll see if people come back.”
“They will.” She snaps a photo of the display case. “Trust me. This place has that special something.” Her eyes flit to mine.
“Something special, huh?”
“Absolutely.” She grins up at me and links our fingers together. “A bakery run by hot firefighters? You’ve basically created a Hallmark movie.”
I lean closer, lowering my voice. “You think I’m hot?”
Her cheeks flush pink. “I think you’re?—”
Oreo barks loudly and takes off running … with a Crush Cake in his mouth.
