Page 64 of Embers in Autumn
“God help me,” he muttered, “this is what I came back for.”
And despite the grumbling, I could see it in his eyes—he was glad to be here. We all were.
The bay was alive with noise, gear clanking, boots thudding against concrete, voices carrying like we’d never had a quiet day in our lives. Mike leaned against the desk with his coffee, settling into his new post like it was a throne he didn’t want but was stuck with anyway.
“So,” he said, cocking his head at me. “What’d I miss while I was gone? Besides Carter nearly torching his eyebrows off.”
“That wascontrolledflame,” Carter shot back.
“That was you forgetting which way the lighter fluid went,” I countered, grinning as the room chuckled.
“How are you not yet fired?” Mike asked smiling. “Anyway, Bennett, tell me what I missed.”
I gave Mike the rundown—two small calls, a couple of messy basement floods, the warehouse fire he already knew about. By the time I finished, his expression had softened, though he’dnever admit to missing it all.
Then he smirked. “And what about that Amber girl you kept seeing?”
The bay went dead quiet for a beat, just long enough for me to know I was in trouble.
Sure enough, Carter perked up like a bloodhound catching a scent. “Ohhh, the bookstore girl. Now we’re talking.”
“See?” I said, pointing at them both. “That’s why I don’t bring her here. You guys have absolutely no manners.”
The whole crew snickered, like sharks circling. Mike sipped his coffee with a smug look.
“Don’t worry,” Carter cut in, “she’s too good for you anyway.”
“Appreciate the vote of confidence,” I muttered, shaking my head.
But Carter wasn’t done. “Besides, I overheard you on the phone the other night. Something about going to some fancy-ass concert tomorrow?”
The laughter roared through the bay like a wave. Mike nearly spit out his coffee. “A concert? You? What, is it AC/DC reunion night?”
“Classical,” Carter said, grinning wide. “Like violins and tuxedos and shit.”
Every head turned to me. I scrubbed a hand down my face, but I couldn’t hold back the smile tugging at my mouth.
“Thanks for reminding me,” I said dryly. “I need to rent a decent suit.”
The crew howled. Even Mike winced from laughing too hard at his ribs. And yeah, they’d never let me live it down—but hell if it didn’t feel good, having them back at full strength, even if Mike was stuck behind a desk.
“So it’s serious, huh?”
I hesitated for a beat, then shrugged. “Yeah. It’s… gettingthere.”
That earned me a chorus of whistles and catcalls from the rest of the crew. Carter muttered something about me “going soft,” and someone else shouted that I’d better not show up to shift in cufflinks. I tossed them all a glare that only made them laugh harder.
Mike, though, just kept studying me, his smile thinner but knowing. He’d seen me through enough years to tell when I was holding back.
And yeah, I was.
Because the truth I didn’t share—not with Mike, not with the crew, maybe not even with myself until now—was that I’d already fallen. Hard.
Amber wasn’t just some girl I texted goodnight. She wasn’t just dinners and coffee and the comfort of company. Somewhere between the popcorn fight with Lana and her laugh echoing in my kitchen that morning, she’d sunk under my skin. I thought about her when I should’ve been focused on reports, or when I rolled out of bed, or hell, even when I was pulling on my turnout gear.
It scared the hell out of me, how fast it had happened. But it was there, and there was no denying it anymore.
I’d fallen for her. Really, truly fallen.
