Winnie: Maybe I just really like you … and the way you smell. Is that weird?
I stare at that message, grinning like an idiot.
Me: Crush Cakes at 3?
Winnie: It’s a date.
I finally breathe easy, confident that whatever is said, whatever we do, it’s going to be okay.
Back at the station, everyone gathers in the common room, debriefing—we’re all accounted for, the security guard is stable at the hospital, and the fire is out. It was a good save. It was the kind of call that reminds us why we do this job.
Oreo greets me at the door and his tail is a windshield wiper set to high. He wasn’t at the fire—can’t risk the dog inactive situations—but he always knows when we’ve had a rough call. He presses against my legs, whining softly.
“I’m okay, boy,” I murmur, crouching down to scratch behind his ears.
He stays close as I head to the shower, like he needs the reassurance. Or maybe he’s remembering another handler who didn’t come back. I glance at the Memorial Wall. This job has a cost. We all know it. We all accept it. But asking someone else to accept it? To wait, not knowing if you’ll come home? That’s a different kind of bravery.
The shower is scalding hot, washing away the soot and smoke but not the clarity that came with it. I stare at my reflection in the foggy mirror—my father’s eyes staring back at me, his jawline, his stubborn determination and serious expression that Winnie has somehow learned to crack with a single smile.
“I get it now, Dad. I finally get it,” I whisper.
The station is quiet when I emerge, most of the crew resting or at home. Austin catches my eye from across the bay.
Grabbing my keys, I tell James and Reese I’m going to take Oreo to my house. But instead of going straight there, I take a long and winding drive past the Timber’s Edge Inn and Resort on my drive to the cemetery. The sun is high, morning light filtering through the trees as I make my way to the section where firefighters rest.
Dad’s headstone is simple granite with a cross etched at the top. I sit on the bench nearby, setting down the coffee I grabbed from the gas station—two cups, a habit from visiting with Mom.
“Hey, Dad.” My voice sounds rough, wrecked. “Been a while.” Actually, I haven’t been here since January when I found out Winnie and I were assigned the task of planning the Fireman’s Ball together.
The wind rustles through the pines.
“I met someone. Her name is Vincenza Sparkles-Sequins-Sticky Notes Elizabeth Sorrentino. I call her Winnie. You’d like her. She’s beautiful, funny, stubborn, organized, and somehow makes me want to be better.” I pause. “She told me she loves me. And I think—no, I know—I love her too.”
A bird calls from somewhere in the trees.
“I’m terrified … of losing her. Of her losing me. Of turning into you and Mom—” I stop, shaking my head. “That came out wrong. What I mean is, I watched what losing you did to Mom. Watched her barely survive it and I swore I’d never put anyone through that.”
Crouching, I take a sip of coffee, reading the headstone. My father was only thirty-eight when he passed away. I’m thirty-six now. Too close to the age he was when everything ended.
“But I finally understand something. Mom would choose you again. She said so. That even knowing how it would end, she wouldn’t trade a single moment.” My throat tightens. “I thought it was crazy. Now I think it’s the bravest thing I’ve ever heard.”
The sun breaks through the clouds, warming my face.
“So I’m going to tell Winnie. I’m going to risk it. Because not loving her—spending my life safe and alone because I’m too scared to choose her is worse than any fire I’ve ever faced.”
I stand, touching the cold granite one more time. “Wish you were here to meet her. She would’ve charmed you in about thirty seconds flat.”
As I’m walking back to my truck, my phone rings with a call from my mom. Twice in one day is a record. Then again, two fires like the ones we attacked earlier are also rare.
Her voice is firm but warm. “I have something important to ask you.” She pauses. “Would you mind if I had lunch with Winnie today?”
I stop walking. “You want to have lunch with Winnie?”
“I’d like to meet the young woman who has my son smiling all the time.”
“How do you know?—?”
“I can hear it in your voice. We’re planning on meeting at noon at Huck’s. I already invited her. Just us, okay.” There’s mischief in her voice. “Just wanted to give you fair warning.”
