Page 44 of Fierce Hope
Kenji: This IS an emergency! Have you seen a six-year-old’s meltdown? It’s scarier than most hostage situations.
Axel: We need GLITTER, not HAND GRENADES.
Ronan: Might need those, too, dude.
Axel:
Zara:Last time you borrowed stuff for a party, the equipment came back with a mysterious dent and smelling like nachos.
Kenji: THAT WAS ONE TIME!
Jade snorted, her shoulders shaking with mirth. “Your team is ... something else.”
“That’s one way to put it,” Deke said, reclaiming his phone. His fingers brushed against hers, sending a tiny electric shock up her arm. “Actually, since you’re caught up in this chaos anyway, got any bright ideas? You’re officially part of this disaster now. No escape.”
“Hmm.” Jade pulled her laptop closer. “Let me see what I can find.”
They spent the next hour huddled together, Jade’s dining table becoming command central for Operation Mermaid Rainbow. She scooted her chair closer to his, their shoulders occasionally brushing as they scrolled through last-minute party decoration options. The warmth of him beside her was distracting in the best possible way.
“What about these?” Jade tapped the screen, pointing to colorful streamers. “We could twist blue and green for underwater, then add rainbow ones across the ceiling.”
“Hmm.” Deke leaned closer, his breath tickling her ear. “Not bad. Izzy has those little clip things for hanging decorations.”
“Command hooks,” Jade supplied with a smile. “Every event planner’s secret weapon.”
“Is that what they’re called?” His eyes crinkled at the corners. “I’ve been calling them ‘those sticky hook things’ for years.”
“Clearly you need my expertise,” she teased, emboldened by the easy rhythm they’d fallen into.
“Clearly,” he agreed, his voice warming in a way that made her cheeks flush.
Jade clicked to another tab. “Oh! What about these fish-shaped balloons? We could add rainbow ribbons as tails.”
“Chantal would love that,” Deke nodded, his eyes lighting up. “And it wouldn’t require advanced crafting degrees.”
“Speaking of which,” Jade scrolled further, “forget specialty napkins. Buy plain ones and these mermaid stickers. Stick one on each napkin—instant mermaid theme.”
Deke stared at her. “That’s ... actually brilliant.”
“I once salvaged the church Christmas pageant with pipe cleaners and aluminum foil after the costume trunk got sent to the wrong address,” she explained, enjoying his impressed expression. “You learn to improvise.”
“You’re a lifesaver,” Deke said, shooting off their solutions to the panicking team. “Kenji would’ve ended up supergluing himself to something vital.”
“That sounds suspiciously specific,” Jade raised an eyebrow. “Previous party disaster?”
“Let’s just say the last party we planned involved an ... incident ... with a paper-mâché volcano and way too much red food coloring.” Deke shuddered dramatically. “The cleaning crew threatened to quit.”
“The mental image alone is worth it,” she laughed, surprised by how natural this felt—sitting close, sharing ideas, planning something as ordinary as a child’s birthday party. For a moment, she could almost pretend this was her life, that she belonged in this circle of warmth and casual affection.
A comfortable silence settled between them as the panic subsided and Deke put his phone away. The fading afternoon light softened his features, highlighting the exhaustion lingering around his eyes.
“Thank you,” Jade said quietly. “For all of this. I know it’s complicated—especially with DJ.”
Something vulnerable flickered across Deke’s face. “I’m not exactly winning Father of the Year.” He rubbed a hand across his jaw. “I keep trying, but it feels like I’m speaking a different language.”
“You haven’t given up,” Jade pointed out. “That counts for more than you know.”
“Does it?” His question held real doubt. “Sometimes I think I’m just making things worse.”
