“Terrified.”
“Good.”
“That’s reassuring.”
He tilts his head slightly. “You think I’d kneel if I wasn’t sure?”
“I think you’d do a lot of reckless things.”
His mouth curves faintly. “Not this.”
The certainty in his tone steadies me. I look around at the decorated firehouse. At the crew who raised him. At the church ladies who meddled us into existence. At my dad pretending not to wipe at his eyes.
“This is insane,” I say softly.
“Yeah.”
“And loud.”
“Very.”
“And public.”
“Always.”
I study him carefully. “You don’t regret it?”
He meets my gaze evenly. “Not once.”
The music shifts to something slower.
Sawyer shouts, “First dance!”
I laugh nervously. “We are not dancing in the engine bay.”
Levi’s grip tightens slightly. “Why not?”
“Because this is chaotic.”
“So are we.”
He pulls me gently toward the center of the bay before I can protest again. The crew forms a loose circle around us. Mrs. Dottie sighs like she’s witnessing cinematic history. Levi places one hand at my waist, the other lifting mine lightly. His eyes don’t leave my face.
“This feels familiar,” I whisper.
“It is.”
The music hums low and steady. He moves us slowly, not fancy, not choreographed. Just close.
“Still think I’m arrogant?” he asks.
“Yes.”
“Still think I don’t fight?”
I hesitate. “No.”
His thumb presses lightly into my hip. “Good.”
