Page 28 of The Blaze Between Us

"Let me take the little man," Ollis offers, appearing at my elbow. "You've got punch duties, and I need to prove to Evelyn that I can handle a baby without breaking it."

"You know that's not actually helping your case, right?" I deadpan, though I'm already transferring my sleeping son to my firefighter's eager arms.

"Don't listen to him, Chief," Evelyn calls from across the room, obviously eavesdropping. "I've seen him rescue a litter of kittens from a storm drain. If he can handle six squirming felines, one sleeping baby should be manageable."

Ollis beams at his wife's defense. "See? Total confidence."

In the kitchen, I find Grant refilling water pitchers, his gold wedding band catching the light as he works. My best friend and now my son-in-law—another adjustment that came more easily than I expected.

"Need a hand?" he asks, glancing up from his task.

"Just restocking the non-alcoholic punch. Apparently it's more popular than we anticipated."

Grant laughs. "That's because Lewis spiked the alcoholic one with something unholy. I overheard him telling his brother it's his 'special firefighter blend.' No one's brave enough to try it except Max."

"That explains a lot," I mutter, making a mental note to confiscate Lewis's concoction before it renders my firefighters completely incapacitated.

As I pour fruit juice into the large punch bowl, the kitchen door swings open and Ellie strides in, her camera hanging around her neck.

"Dad! There you are. I've been looking for you. We need a Sullivan family photo while James is still clean and before any of your firefighters decide to show him how the fire pole works."

I raise an eyebrow. "Would they do that?"

"Max already suggested it," she confirms with a roll of her eyes. "Said, and I quote, 'The kid's gotta learn sometime.'"

Grant snorts. "I stopped him. Told him he had to wait until James is at least two."

"My heroes," I say dryly, lifting the refilled punch bowl. "Mind getting the door for me?"

Back in the main room, I find Tasha now talking with a man who stands somewhat awkwardly at the edge of the festivities—her father, who arrived yesterday for his first visit since James was born. Their relationship has thawed gradually over the years, his sobriety now stretching to eighteen months. It's still fragile, this rebuilding between them, but his presence today marks significant progress.

I set down the punch bowl and approach them, noting the tension in Tasha's shoulders despite her smile.

"Richard," I greet my father-in-law with a firm handshake. "Glad you could make it."

"Wouldn't miss my grandson's birthday," he says, his voice carrying the slight roughness of a former heavy smoker. "Tasha was just telling me about his adventure learning to walk."

"By 'adventure' she means 'terror mission,'" I clarify with a smile. "The kid has no fear. Takes after his mother that way."

Tasha elbows me gently. "I seem to recall you being the one who carried me down a mountain with a sprained ankle. Pot, kettle."

Richard looks between us with an expression that suggests he's still getting used to our dynamic, to the easy banter and obvious affection. He missed so much of Tasha's life—her college graduation, our wedding, James's birth—that these normal family interactions seem to both comfort and unsettle him.

"Speaking of the birthday boy," Tasha says, scanning the room, "where is he?"

"Last seen being used as a recruiting tool by Ollis," I report. "I think he's trying to convince Evelyn they need one of their own."

She laughs. "Poor Evelyn. She doesn't stand a chance once James breaks out the dimples."

As if summoned by our discussion, Ollis approaches with a now-awake James, who's regarding the festivities with wide-eyed fascination.

"Sorry to interrupt," he says, "but someone is asking for his mom. At least, I think that's what 'ma-ma-ma' while reaching in this direction means."

"Did you have fun with Uncle Ollis?" she coos, settling James on her hip. "Were you charming everyone at the party?"

"Kid's a natural," Ollis confirms. "Firefighter material for sure."

"Don't start," I warn him good-naturedly. "Ellie already told me about Max's fire pole plans."

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