Page 46 of Breaking Through

"Unlike Blue Harbor wildlife?" Holden's eyes danced. "Should I tell them about the goose incident?"

"Don't you dare." It was too late. My old crew had already sensed a story worth hearing.

"Oh, we need to know about this." Schneider, a rookie three years ago and now a seasoned professional, pulled up a chair. "Especially since you've been holding out on us. Three years of one-line email responses, and now we find out you've got a whole secret life?"

"It's not entirely secret."

"Really?" Rodriguez raised an eyebrow. "So you mentioned the boyfriend who takes artistic Polaroids and feeds you fancy coffee in one of those detailed updates I must have missed?"

"He doesn't—"

"I absolutely do." Holden grinned. "You should see him try to pretend he doesn't love the vanilla lattes."

The guys roared with laughter, and something in me eased further. They weren't treating me like broken glass. They weren't avoiding mentions of "before" and "after." They were just... happy for me.

Schneider leaned forward. "You know what's wild? It's watching you during that speech. You used to completely freeze up during department presentations. This man could run into burning buildings without flinching, but give him a podium..."

"And now look at you." Rodriguez's voice softened. "Up there telling our stories like you finally found the right words."

"The stories needed telling." I swallowed hard. "They deserved that much."

"Yeah, they did." Schneider's expression turned serious. "But so did you, Wade. You deserved to find your way back."

"Back to what?"

"To living." Rodriguez gestured around the room. "Look at you, man. You've built something real up there in Wisconsin. You found your purpose again. Found people worth letting in." He glanced at Holden. "That's what Jenkins would have wanted and what Martinez would have celebrated."

"You think so?" My voice was barely a whisper.

"I know so." Schneider's hand landed on my shoulder. "Martinez used to say you were too busy taking care of everyone else to notice when you needed backup. Looks like you finally figured out how to let someone watch your six."

Holden's fingers brushed mine, a ghost of a touch that grounded me in the present. "He's still stubborn about it."

"Course he is." Rodriguez chuckled. "But he's got that look now."

"What look?" I asked, though part of me already knew.

"The one Jenkins used to get when he talked about his kids. The one Martinez had when he was planning his wedding." Rodriguez's dark eyes held mine.

"I better warn Sarah back home," Holden mused. "She'll want to update her romance novel classifications."

The guys latched onto his comment, demanding explanations about Blue Harbor's apparent obsession with categorizing love stories. I let their laughter wash over me, seeing how easily Holden fielded their questions and drew them into the ridiculous saga of small-town life.

"You did good, Forrester. One of the best in the crew." Schneider gently bumped his shoulder against mine.

"I'm not in your crew anymore."

"Nah, but you're still teaching us stuff." He nodded toward Holden. "Like how sometimes the bravest thing isn't running into the fire. Sometimes, it's letting someone else close enough to see the burns."

I wanted to deny it and deflect it with a joke about paperwork or trail maintenance. Instead, I replied, "He sees too much sometimes."

"Good. It's about time someone did."

***

As I remembered, the firehouse's garden was a small oasis tucked behind the main building where we used to decompress after rough calls. The old maple tree still stood sentinel over wooden benches worn smooth by generations of firefighters. String lights zigzagged overhead, creating pools of gentle illumination that felt safer than the reception's harsh fluorescents.

I inhaled deeply, letting the familiar scent of fallen leaves mix with new memories of pine and lake water. The sounds of the reception filtered through brick walls—muffled laughter, clinking glasses, life continuing despite everything we'd lost.

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