Page 64 of Reunited with the Hometown Hero
"Noah built that team from scratch," Ruth says with proprietary pride. "Recruited half of them personally, trained the rest. Best in the west now, which is why Denver's trying to poach him again."
My hand freezes, wine glass halfway to my lips. "Denver? Again?"
Ruth's expression turns sly. “Didn’t he mention it? Deputy Chief position opened up last month. They've been courting himaggressively—salary that would make your eyes water, budget to implement his programs city-wide, the works."
The revelation lands like a physical blow. After all I've learned about Noah's dedication to Angel's Peak, his repeated choices to remain despite opportunities elsewhere, the idea that he might leave now seems incomprehensible.
Unless...
"When was this offer made?" I struggle to keep my voice casual.
“The letter came a couple of weeks ago, I think." Ruth polishes a glass with methodical precision, watching me over the rim. “Just before you blew back into town, come to think of it. Interesting timing, that."
Before I can process this implication, a cheer rises from the crowd as someone proposes a toast to the championship team. Noah stands on a chair, laughing as James Donovan recounts an apparently legendary rescue from years past. He looks happy, fulfilled, exactly where he belongs.
I circulate through the celebration, professional mask firmly in place as I gather colorful quotes for my article. But beneath the surface, questions churn relentlessly. Denver. A prestigious position. A major life change was being considered precisely when I returned to Angel's Peak. The coincidence seems too significant to ignore.
Eventually, I find a quiet corner to catch my breath, mentally revisiting our interrupted conversation.
"Hiding from your adoring public?" Noah's voice startles me from my thoughts. He stands before me, championship medal hanging casually around his neck, a bottle of beer dangling from his fingers. "The journalist who predicted Angel's Peak's victory seems quite popular with the locals."
"I made no such prediction," I protest, though I can't help returning his smile. "I maintained strict journalistic neutrality."
"Uh-huh." He leans against the wall beside me, close enough that our shoulders touch. "That’s why you were jumping up and down during the final extraction exercise?"
Heat floods my cheeks. "Professional enthusiasm for technical excellence."
His laughter sends warmth spiraling through me. "If you say so, Bennett." His expression sobers slightly. "I'm sorry about last night. The hiker?—"
"Was your priority," I finish for him. "I understand. Really."
"Still." His fingers brush mine, a brief contact that feels simultaneously casual and significant. "Not how I envisioned the evening ending."
The memory of our interrupted intimacy brings fresh heat to my skin. "Your team was incredible today. Everyone I interviewed had something glowing to say about your rescue protocols."
"Just good people doing good work." He deflects the praise with characteristic modesty, then adds more quietly, "Though hearing it from you means something special."
The simple admission creates an opening I can't ignore. "Ruth mentioned something interesting. About Denver?"
Noah's expression shifts subtly, a flicker of something—guilt? uncertainty?—crossing his features before he masks it. "Ruth talks too much."
"Is it true? They offered you the Deputy Chief position again?"
He takes a slow sip of his beer, clearly weighing his response. "It's true."
"Are you considering it?”
"I am." His gaze holds mine steadily. "For the first time, yes."
The confirmation lands with unexpected weight. "Why now? After turning them down before?"
Noah glances around the crowded bar, then nods toward the door. "Not here. Walk with me?"
Outside, the night envelops us in comparative quiet, stars brilliant overhead as we move away from The PickAxe's noise and light. We walk in silence for several blocks, the unspoken question expanding between us.
"I've never seriously considered leaving before," Noah finally says, hands in his pockets as we navigate the quiet streets. "Angel's Peak has always been where I belong, where I'm needed."
"What changed?" I ask, though I suspect I already know the answer.
