Page 46 of Befriending the Bear
Fraser’s eyes softened, his hand coming up to cup my cheek. “I’d love to.”
Another slow kiss, and the last bit of tension seeped out of me.
I handed him a spare toothbrush, which he accepted with a smile. There was something so comfortable about brushing our teeth side by side, hips bumping as we jostled for space at the sink.
Clean and dry, we slipped under the covers of my bed. Fraser pulled me close, my back to his chest, and I sighed contentedly at the feel of his warm skin against mine. His arm draped over my waist, hand splayed on my stomach. I laced my fingers through his, marveling at how well they fit together.
“Fraser?”
“Mmm?”
“Thank you. For tonight. F-for…all of it.”
He kissed me softly, just a gentle press of lips. “One day, you’ll stop thanking me for things like this. It was my pleasure, sweetheart. Sleep well.”
“G-goodnight,” I whispered back, squeezing his hand.
But sleep didn’t come immediately. Instead, I lay there in the darkness, acutely aware of every point where our bodies touched. Fraser’s chest rose and fell steadily against my back, his breathing already evening out into sleep. The man could fall asleep anywhere, a skill probably honed by years of catching rest whenever possible during fire seasons.
My mind, however, wouldn’t quiet. It wasn’t anxiety or regret, but a kind of wonder. When had I last felt this content? This safe? Even before Marcus died, we’d been together so long that intimacy had become routine, comfortable but not electric. Tonight with Fraser had been both—the comfort of being truly seen and accepted, combined with the electricity of new discovery.
I shifted slightly, and Fraser’s arm tightened around me automatically, pulling me closer even in sleep. The gesture made my throat tight with unexpected emotion.
I tucked my head under his chin, pressing close, and closed my eyes again. Tomorrow would bring questions. Questions from others, who’d see his truck parked in my driveway during the night, again. Question from ourselves. There would be complications and negotiations and the general messiness of two lives trying to intertwine.
But tonight, I would revel in Fraser’s heartbeat against my skin, his arms around me, and the quiet joy of choosing hope over fear.
For the first time in seven years, I fell asleep feeling whole.
16
FRASER
The call came while I was admiring the backsplash in my kitchen, which I had just finished replacing. The old one had been a vague mustard-yellow that reminded me of vomit, and now I had a gorgeous white and dark-blue pattern that matched my kitchen cabinets, which I’d painted blue last week.
“Fraser,” I answered, my phone wedged between my ear and shoulder as I wiped off my hands with a rag.
“Fraser, it’s Chief Morrison.” The familiar voice of my old chief sent a jolt through me. “How’s retirement treating you?”
“Can’t complain.”
“You’re not bored yet?”
The chief had always known how to get to the hard questions immediately. “No.”
I didn’t mention it was because I’d kept busy with home improvement projects. Now that the kitchen was done, the hallway was next. Replacing the crowning, maybe the baseboards too. Definitely painting all the walls, though perhaps wallpaper would look good there too. I’d have to get some samples and make up my mind.
“Hmm, surprising. I hadn’t pictured you as someone who’d enjoy doing nothing.”
He wasn’t wrong. “What can I do for you, Chief?”
“I’ll cut to the chase. Remember the training program we talked about before you left? Well, we’ve got funding. Four-week intensive for new recruits this winter, and I need someone with your experience to run the classroom portions. Interested?”
I grabbed my phone, clenching it a little too hard. Teaching. Using everything I’d learned without having to pass the physical requirements I could no longer meet. “When?”
“January. You’d be based in Missoula. It’s mostly classroom work with some field demonstrations, but nothing you can’t handle with that leg.”
Four weeks back in my old world, surrounded by the brotherhood I’d lost. The offer was everything I’d been hoping for: a way to stay connected to firefighting without the parts my body could no longer do.
