“There’s not much to save, but we can go down and search through everything together when the dust settles.”
She blinks fast, tears shimmering in her eyes. “Thank you.”
We sit at the table. The glow from the kitchen lights make her black hair shine like raven’s feathers. She’s quiet for a while, just pushing the pasta around her plate.
“What are you thinking about?”
“Just everything that’s happened.” She looks up at me. “My life’s a mess. It’s basically turned to dust, and yet I’ve never been happier.” Her eyes glisten with unshed tears. “Then I feel guilty because I shouldn’t be happy. Not without Nan, and now I’ve lost her all over again.” She swipes a tear from her cheek as if annoyed by it. “I loved her blanket. You know the big patchwork one that she made. I had it on the side of the sofa the night before the fire. I know it’s gone.” She swipes at her other cheek as if swatting away an annoying fly.
“I’m sorry, sweetheart.” I make a mental note to go back to the bungalow tomorrow and see if there're any blankets from her nan’s room that are salvageable.
“She had a little cushion on her bed that still smelled of her. Now, if it’s survived, it will just smell of smoke.”
I reach over and stroke her arm. “I know you’ve lost everything, and they’re sentimental things, but you haven’t lost your memories.” I bring her hand to my lips and kiss her knuckles. “Nothing can take those away from you.”
“You’re right. I’m sorry. I’m going on about stuff I’ve lost and you—” She swallows and looks over at the photograph on the sideboard of my father, dressed in full Class A dress uniform. “Your dad… he was a firefighter too.”
I nod, take a sip of water to buy a second. “Fire chief. Best one this town ever had.”
“You must’ve been so proud. He was so brave.”
“Yeah.” My throat tightens. “And stupid. Thought he was invincible.”
Her brows pinch. “What happened?”
“Warehouse fire. Building was compromised. My old man went back in for someone. Never made it out. I swore I’d never do the same. Then I saw those flames and thought of you inside… and I didn’t even hesitate.”
“Flint…”
“I was supposed to be there. When Pa died…” My voice cracks before I can stop it. “I was reckless. Should’ve been on call but was out with my buddies. Didn’t hear the pager over the club music. Spent half my life thinking if I’d been there, I could’ve helped.”
Her fingers caress my face. “Maybe you couldn’t have saved him. Maybe it was fate that you weren’t there that night. Or you might not be here now.”
“Doesn’t stop me from trying to save everyone else.”
“Is that why you ran into the bungalow for me?” she whispers.
I meet her eyes, remembering Drake’s words. “I ran into that building because I couldn’t imagine a life without you in it. You’re not just someone to save on the job, Sera. You’re so much more.”
She squeezes my hand, the faintest smile tugging at her lips. “You’re everything to me too, Chiefy.”
I huff out a laugh and stand, scraping my chair back. “Come on. Before we both start crying, let’s decorate this damn tree.”
I duck into the cupboard under the stairs and haul out an old cardboard box. The tape’s brittle, the edges soft with age. Dust puffs up as I open it, revealing a jumble of tangled lights and decades’ worth of memories.
Sera kneels beside me, peering inside. “What’s all this?”
“Old decorations. Been dragging this same box out every December since Mason was little.” I take out the lights and untangle them.
She lifts out a glitter-glued snowman. “This one looks like he was in a fight and lost.”
I chuckle. “Probably did, with one of Ember’s cats.”
Next, she pulls out a clay ornament vaguely shaped like a firetruck. The red paint’s chipped, and the name MASON is scrawled across it in thick, uneven letters.
Her laugh is soft. “Did he make this?”
“Yeah. Primary school art project. He was so damn proud of it. Wouldn’t let anyone hang it but him.”
