Page 52 of Singe
“And now I know living is the point.”
I smile, leaning into him. “Took you long enough.”
He presses his forehead to mine, brief and private amid the noise. “You dragged me kicking and screaming.”
“Someone had to.”
Theo barrels back toward us, arms wide. Boone scoops him up again, easy and practiced, then reaches for my free hand.
“Hey,” he says, low enough only I can hear. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For not letting me hide.”
I squeeze his fingers. “You did the hard part.”
We stand there like that—five of us, anchored together—while the firehouse hums around us. Engines gleam. Kids laugh. The smell of cake and coffee and grease mingles in the air.
Boone once told me he was afraid of fire because of what it took from him.
Now, watching him laugh as Theo demandsone more horn, seeing the twins clap like they’ve just witnessed magic, I understand the truth we built together.
Fire didn’t ruin him.
It forged him.
And the life he once feared—the noise, the mess, the love so big it hurts sometimes—is the very thing that saved him.
THE END
