“No, it sounds perfect,” she says, her smile growing. “I’d love to come. I just... I’m not family. Are you sure it’ll be okay?”
“Of course it’s okay. The guys will be thrilled to have another guest. We always cook way too much food anyway. But fair warning... we are still on shift. So if there’s a call, we may have to get up in the middle of dinner and bolt. So as long as you’re flexible and know you might be left with the other fire wives or girlfriends.”
Chloe’s face lights up. “That sounds amazing, actually. I’ve never experienced anything like that before.” She pauses, a thoughtful look crossing her face. “Will I need to bring anything?”
I shake my head, pulling her close again. “Just yourself. And maybe a big appetite.”
She laughs softly, her breath warm against my chest. “I think I can manage that. Especially after tonight’s... activities.”
I chuckle, running my hand down her back. “Speaking of which, we should probably get some sleep if we want to be functional tomorrow.”
Chloe sighs contentedly, snuggling closer. “You’re right. But I don’t want this night to end.”
“We don’t have to end,” I murmur, kissing the top of her head. “This is just the beginning.”
We settle into bed, Chloe’s back pressed against my chest, my arm draped over her waist. The Christmas lights continue to twinkle softly, casting a warm glow over the room. Outside, the snow falls silently, blanketing the world in white.
Just before sleep claims me, I hear Chloe whisper, “Merry Christmas, Jack.”
“Merry Christmas, Chloe,” I reply back, my heart full.
As consciousness fades, my last thought is of tomorrow. Of Chloe at the firehouse, sharing a meal with my colleagues, becoming a part of my world. It’s a future I never dared to imagine, but now can’t imagine a life without her.
I stare at the window, knowing it wasn’t that long ago that I stood on the other side. Watching. Picturing what it would be like to hold her. To be with her. And now here I am, her warm body pressed against mine, her soft breathing soothing the raging guilt I still battle. The guilt of my past actions—the watching, the secrecy—tugs at the edges of my consciousness. I know I’ll have to come clean eventually. But for now, I push those thoughts aside, focusing instead on the feel of Chloe in my arms, the scent of her hair, the rhythm of her breathing.
As I drift off to sleep, my mind wanders to the future. I imagine more nights like this, more Christmases spent with Chloe. I want this—want her—more than I’ve ever wanted anything. But the weight of my secret hangs heavy.
Morning comes too soon. The alarm on my phone chimes softly, and I carefully extricate myself from Chloe’s embrace. She stirs, mumbling sleepily.
“Shh,” I whisper, kissing her forehead. “Go back to sleep. I’ll see you later at the station and will text you the address.”
She nods, already drifting off again. I dress quietly, pausing at the door to look back at her. The morning light filters through the curtains, casting a soft glow on her sleeping form. My heart swells with emotion.
I don’t want to fuck this up.
Please don’t let me fuck this up.