Page 26 of The Firefighter’s Forever

“Mom?”

I glance into the rearview mirror. “Yes, honey?”

“You knew Dad before he was a firefighter, right?”

I smile as I stop at a red light. Beside me on the passenger seat, a large container of still-warm cookies fill the car with the buttery aroma that always reminds me of one very impulsive afternoon years ago.

“I did.”

“What was he like?”

Our oldest, Owen, is ten years old now, full of endless questions and serious eyes that look exactly like Lucas’s. His little sister, Emmy, is eight and currently trying very hard to covertly sneak a cookie out of the container.

“I saw that, Emmy,” I say.

She sighs dramatically. “It’s just one cookie.”

“And there are plenty of extras waiting at home.”

Owen leans forward between the seats. “Well? What was Dad like?”

“The same,” I answer.

“That can’t be true.”

“It is.” I laugh. “He was always looking out for people. Even when we were kids.”

“He rescued people?”

“Mostly me.”

Emmy finally gives up on the cookies. “From what?”

“Tree climbing. Bike crashes. The time I got stuck halfway across the creek because I was convinced I could jump farther than I actually could.”

Owen’s eyes get wider. “You got stuck?”

“Very much.”

“What did Dad do?”

“He carried me out, and then reminded me for the next six months that he’d been right.”

Emmy giggles. “That sounds like Dad.”

I take a turn at the next intersection, and the fire station comes into view. The bay doors are open, just as they were the day I walked in carrying cookies after all those years apart. Some memories fade around the edges. That one never has.

The fire engine is parked out front, gleaming in the sunshine while several firefighters wash it down. Water sprays across the pavement, laughter carries through the warm afternoon, and the familiar sight settles something happy inside me.

“There he is!” Emmy squeals.

Lucas looks up from the hose in his hands.

Even after all these years, my heart still does the same ridiculous little flip.

He catches sight of our car, and his entire face changes. The grin that spreads across it is exactly the one I fell in love with, only now it’s framed by a few faint lines at the corners of his eyes that I helped put there.

“Well, well, well,” one of the other firefighters calls as we climb out, “the cookie delivery has arrived.”