I’ve run into burning buildings without hesitation.
I’ve cut through doors with a chainsaw while the roof threatened to collapse.
I’ve carried strangers out of smoke thick enough to blind a man.
None of it compares to standing on the rooftop of Devil’s Peak Fire & Rescue in a dress shirt that suddenly feels too tight, waiting for the woman who changed my life to arrive on a fire engine.
The guys insisted.
“Full spectacle,” Axel said.
“She’s marrying a firefighter,” Ash added. “We’re doing it right.”
So here I am. Rooftop deck strung with white lights. Mountain range stretching behind us like a painted backdrop. Folding chairs lined up in uneven rows. Half the town gathered with lemonade and phones ready.
And me.
Thirty-seven years old.
Hands steady in a crisis.
Not steady now.
Ash nudges me with his elbow. “You look like you’re about to respond to a five-alarm.”
“I am,” I mutter.
He grins. “Relax. She already said yes.”
“Shut up.”
Below us, someone revs an engine.
The crowd shifts.
Music cuts.
Then the siren wails once — not emergency, just for show.
Every head turns toward the ladder truck rolling slowly into the parking lot below.
And there she is.
Standing on the back step like she owns the world.
White dress catching the late afternoon sun. Hair loose, wind tugging it free around her shoulders. Lacee standing beside her in a pale blue dress, grinning like she planned this entire production.
And at Tessa’s feet?
A Dalmatian.
The new puppy Sparks. Axel’s idea, apparently.
“Tradition,” he’d said.
The truck stops. The ladder lowers partway — not dramatic, just enough to make a point. The crowd laughs.
Tessa lifts her skirt slightly and climbs down carefully, Sparks hopping beside her, tail wagging like he understands the assignment.
