“Look at you.” She appraised him top to bottom. “And you smell good.”
He raised an eyebrow at her. “You think I smell good?”
She rolled her eyes.
They walked a few feet in silence. Dhillon saw Riya’s car a few cars ahead. They both spoke at once.
“I was wrong.”
“I was wrong.”
Dhillon’s head snapped up. She was fidgeting with her hands, her bottom lip in her teeth, brow furrowed. He stopped walking, and Riya faced him.
“What were you wrong about?” Riya asked first.
He looked her in the eye. “About you firefighting. You’re a natural. You work on instinct. I saw you jump into action today without a thought. More than once. You went from one emergency to the next, completely composed. You’re amazing. I’m sorry it took this long for me to see it.”
“I miss it.”
“So go back,” Dhillon said.
“Well, I have burned that bridge. The team is pissed at me for quitting.” She looked at her fingernails, then back up at him. “I can’t say I blame them.”
“They’re pissed at you for quitting because they know that you belong there, with them. Working side by side.” Traffic started creeping forward. He moved toward her car, and she followed. “Listen, I’m the last person to tell you what to do—”
“Hasn’t stopped you yet.”
“All I’m saying is you’re made for that job, because it’s more than a job to you. It’s who you are. I believe you’ve been saying that all along. I’m the asshole who’s just hearing it now.” She belonged in firefighting. He could feel it in his core. In fact, he’d probably known it all along—he was just too afraid for it to be true. But that no longer mattered. “Just because you’re not working as a firefighter doesn’t mean you aren’t a firefighter.”
She just looked at him, doubt playing over her face.
“Might be worth a bit of groveling to get your job back. And who knows? If you go soon enough, maybe your paperwork won’t have been filed yet.” Dhillon widened his eyes and gave her an exaggerated shrug.
“Wait. What are you saying?” Her eyes danced with hope.
“I’m saying I hear things. Like from my sister’s new boyfriend...”
Riya’s eyes lit up, sending a contentment through him he’d only ever experienced with her.
“What were you wrong about?” Dhillon asked.
“I never should have made firefighting seem glamorous. Maybe—”
Dhillon held up a hand to stop her. “I never should have held you responsible for Hetal’s actions. She’s an adult, and she knows what she’s doing. She’s just as stubborn as they come.”
“Runs in the family,” Riya muttered.
“It does.” He stood there, taking her in while she processed all that he had said. He tucked a wisp of hair behind her ear and trailed his fingers along her jaw, and she allowed it. Silence floated between them. Dhillon needed to explain how much he loved her and how sorry he was for all the things he’d said. But right now, all he could think about was how touching her made him want to touch her more, but that he’d probably never get that chance again. “Besides, any dream worth having is worth fighting for.” He looked directly into her eyes. “I believe Samir told me that.”
“He did?” She looked genuinely surprised. “When?”
“When I was begging my parents for a puppy.”
He was rewarded with her laugh. “Sounds about right.”
He softened his voice. “Applies to lots of things. Including wanting to be a firefighter.”
“This is me.” Riya stopped at her car.
