Page 114 of Second Alarm

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Hanna leans against me while I do it taking mental notes.

I'm home.

Epilogue

Hanna

July in Copper Ridge is a specific color. It's the color of grasslands going bronze at the edges and mountains still holding snow in the high draws, and at seven p.m. on a Friday at the Watershed, the color is coming through the windows sideways and hitting the bar in a way that's making Big Jim squint.

I'm at the back booth with Ty, Cal, Riley, Aiden, Beck, Gemma, and Derek, there's a fundraiser raffle Derek is loudly about to rig, and there's a basket of fries on the table that have been cooling while my brother argues with Riley about whether a bet she made two months ago counts if the thing she bet on happened in a more general sense than specified.

"Fourteen days, Cal."

"You said fourteen days from the first public disclosure — " Cal starts.

"I had CAL DISCOVERY, underlined, in the actual bet, Cal. I have the napkin."

"You kept the napkin?" I ask.

"I kept the napkin."

"Riley. You kept the napkin from May?"

"I have a filing system, Larsen."

Cal loses the argument. Riley collects. Derek, across the table, writes something in his little notebook he carries specifically for the crew's private betting records. Ty, to my left in the booth, doesn't touch me for the whole exchange, because he's being careful. We've both agreed to keep being careful at Cal's pace, which is slower than everyone else's pace, which is fine.

Cal pokes me with a fry.

"Pass the ketchup."

"You have arms."

"I have one good arm."

"Cal. You went back on full duty last week."

"Hanna."

"I'm your paramedic. I know your arm is fine."

"Hanna."

"Fine." I pass him the ketchup.

"Thank you."

Across the booth, Riley lifts her glass in my direction.

"To the lady of honor."

"Don't — "

"The woman of the hour."

"Riley."

"The betrothed."

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