Page 16 of Hot Knot Summer
She’d been beautiful in a way that snuck up on you, honey-blond hair escaping from a messy bun, large hazel eyes that widened when she realized I’d caught her writing about me. The blush that had crept up her neck and stained her cheeks when I leaned over to read what was unmistakably a romance scene. The way she’d clutched her notebook to her chest as if I might steal it, chin raised defiantly even as her scent betrayed her attraction.
“Fuck,” I mutter, slamming my palm against the steering wheel. I should have gotten her number. Should have pushed just a little harder to see her again. But the moment she’d thrown up those walls, all cool politeness and firm boundaries, I’d backed off. The last thing I needed was to come across like another Alpha asshole who couldn’t take no for an answer.
Still, I can’t shake the feeling that I’ve missed something important. My knee bounces with restless energy as I take the turn onto Station Road.
I pull into the parking lot of Whispering Grove Fire Department. The station sits on the edge of town, a sprawling single-story building of red brick and reinforced concrete that we’ve expanded twice in the years since I took over as chief. Usually, the sight of it settles something in my chest, the closest thing to home I’ve known since I was twelve, but today, my skin feels too tight, like I’m buzzing with an electric current I can’t ground.
The garage doors stand open, revealing our main engine, the brush truck, and our newest acquisition, a specialty rescue vehicle we’d fought the town council for three years to get approved. Beyond them, I spot the training yard where several volunteers are hastily packing up equipment after training.
I grab my backpack from the passenger seat and march indoors.
The main bay smells of diesel, metal polish, and the sweat of honest work. Three volunteers, Kai, Dana, and Miguel, are meticulously checking the breathing apparatus. They glance up as I enter, and the familiar routine of the station begins to work its steady magic on my agitated nerves.
“Chief’s back,” Miguel calls out, his stocky frame straightening as his face breaks into a grin. He’s one of our best, a former military medic who moved to Whispering Grove five years ago and has been an essential part of our team ever since. “Station’s still standing, sir.”
“Apparently,” I nod, a ghost of a smile touching my lips. “Training going well?”
“Station record on the hose deployment,” Dana says proudly, pushing her braids back from her face. At twenty-two, she’s our youngest volunteer, but what she lacks in experience she makes up for in sheer determination. “River’s been drilling us like we’re heading to the Olympics.”
I glance at the polished equipment and immaculate bay. “Good. Summer tourist season’s about to hithard, and we’re already getting dry conditions up in the north valley.” A flash of lightning illuminates in the distance through the window. “Though that might help for a day or two.”
“Storm’s rolling,” Kai confirms, his calm voice carrying the slight accent of his Japanese heritage. “River and Levi are in the office.”
I nod my thanks and head down the hallway, my boots echoing on the polished concrete. Our department is small but efficient, twenty-three volunteers total, with just the three of us as full-time staff. We rotate shifts, so there’s always one of us on duty, with at least three or four volunteers per shift. It works because we’ve built something special here, not just colleagues, but pack. River, Levi, and I.
The office door is open, and I pause for a moment to watch them before they notice me. River is stretched out in my chair, my fucking chair, boots propped up on my desk, animatedly gesturing while recounting some story that has Levi shaking his head in disbelief.
River looks like he belongs on the cover of one of those firefighter calendars that suburban moms secretly collect. Tall and lean-muscled with golden-blond hair that falls to just below his ears, usually pushed back. Today he’s wearing a faded WGFD t-shirt stretched tight across his shoulders and worn jeans with a hole in one knee. The braided leather bracelet he never takes off encircles his right wrist.
Levi stands by the window, arms crossed over his chest, watching River with that silent, assessing gazethat misses nothing. He’s taller than River by an inch, with a leaner build that disguises surprising strength. His straight black hair is longer on top, where it often falls across his forehead in a way that softens his sharp, angular features. Today, he’s dressed all in black, jeans and a button-up with the sleeves rolled precisely to mid-forearm. The silver watch that belonged to his father gleams on his wrist as he gestures to whatever point River is making.
“…then she says, ‘I thought firefighters were supposed to be good with their hands’, and I tell her—” River catches sight of me, and his face lights up, teal-blue eyes smiling. “Well, fuck me sideways! Look what the cat dragged in!”
“Get your ass out of my chair,” I growl with a smirk. River’s the only person I know who can lift my mood no matter how dark it gets. He’s on his feet in an instant, crossing the room in three long strides to pull me into a rough embrace, slapping my back hard enough to make me grunt. His cinnamon scent wraps around me, brightening with genuine happiness at my return.
Levi pushes away from the window, a rare smile transforming his serious face. “Welcome back.” He clasps my shoulder, his amber-gold eyes searching my face. “You look like shit. How’d it go?”
“It’s done,” I say, dropping my bag by the door and rolling my shoulders to release the tension that’s been building since I left three days ago. “Easier than I thought it would be.” That’s not entirely true, but theydon’t need to know how I’d stood frozen on the porch for twenty minutes before I could make myself turn the key to my parents’ home or how the emptiness of the rooms had echoed with memories I’d spent years trying to bury.
“Told you it’d be easy,” Levi states.
“And the plane didn’t crash like you were convinced it would,” River adds, throwing himself into the chair opposite mine, one leg slung over the armrest. “Atlas Wood, fearless fire chief, afraid of a little turbulence.”
I snort, reclaiming my rightful place behind the desk. The chair’s still warm from River. “I made one comment. Once.”
“One comment, six times,” River corrects, dimples appearing as he grins. “I counted. You texted me before takeoff, during the flight, and after landing. Both ways.”
“Fuck off.” I can’t help the small smile that breaks through. “Some of us have seen what happens when machines fall from thirty thousand feet.”
“Yeah, yeah, we’ve all watched Air Crash Investigation.” River waves a dismissive hand, his fingers tapping a restless rhythm on the armrest. “More importantly, did you bring us anything? Tell me you at least got those maple cookies from that bakery near the airport.”
“In the truck,” I admit, and River pumps his fist triumphantly, making Levi roll his eyes. “By the way,” I add, running a hand through my hair. “I bumped intoCaroline and Mark at the airport. They were heading back from Hawaii. Lucky bastards looked like they’d spent the entire week on the beach.”
“So, it’s really done, then? The house, the estate, all of it?” Levi asks, perching on the edge of the desk. As the pack’s most analytical mind, he’s always focused on closure, on tying up loose ends.
“All of it. Sold the house to a pediatrician and her wife.” Something eases in my chest slightly as I say it out loud, making it real. “They’ve got twins on the way. Place will be filled with kids’ crap instead of dust and ghosts.”
“Good.” Levi nods decisively, amber eyes warm with approval. “It was time.”
