Total pages in book: 26
Estimated words: 29299 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 146(@200wpm)___ 117(@250wpm)___ 98(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 29299 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 146(@200wpm)___ 117(@250wpm)___ 98(@300wpm)
“Mom!” Ellie shouts. “Inferno likes me best!”
“No she doesn’t!” Grayson protests. “Sir Barks-A-Lot’s gonna be a firefighter!”
Rosie looks up at Sawyer with serious eyes. “Can Sprinkles ride on a fire truck?”
Sawyer crouches immediately, big hands gentle as he strokes the tiny pup’s back.
“She can visit,” he says carefully.
Rosie beams.
I watch him like I always do. He isn’t bracing anymore. He isn’t holding himself rigid like happiness is temporary. He laughs easily now. Teases. Wrestles. Lets the noise fill the spaces that used to echo.
“Dad,” Ellie says, hugging her puppy tight. “Are you happy?”
He doesn’t answer right away.
He looks around first.
At the tree.
At the dogs.
At Grayson trying to train Sir Barks-A-Lot to “stop, drop, and roll.”
At Rosie whispering secrets into Sprinkles’ ear.
Then his gaze finds me.
It softens.
“Yeah,” he says quietly. “I am.”
Ellie nods like that’s satisfactory.
Lacee wipes a tear from her eye.
The puppies tumble together in a pile, chewing ears and tails and each other. Inferno licks Sprinkles’ face. Sir Barks-A-Lot accidentally somersaults into the couch and bounces back up like it was intentional.
Chaos.
Warm, ridiculous chaos.
Sawyer stands and steps back toward me.
“You okay?” he asks softly.
“I’m perfect.”
His hand slides into mine, thumb stroking over my knuckles slowly.
“You remember,” he murmurs, “when I told you I didn’t think I could survive loving again?”
“I remember.”
“You didn’t argue.”
“I didn’t need to.”
His eyes hold mine steadily.
“I thought fire only took,” he says quietly.
The kids erupt into laughter as Sir Barks-A-Lot attempts to howl and produces something that sounds like a broken kazoo.
Sawyer’s mouth curves faintly.
“I was wrong,” he continues.
I tilt my head. “About what?”
He steps closer, voice lowering even though the room is too loud for anyone to hear.
“Fire doesn’t only destroy,” he says. “Sometimes it warms.”
My chest tightens.
“And sometimes,” he adds, fingers sliding along my waist, “it heals.”
I press my palm against his chest.
“Seven years ago,” I whisper, “you thought loving me meant losing something.”
He shakes his head slowly. “No,” he says. “It meant finding everything.”
Grayson runs past us, puppy in tow.
“Dad! Sir Barks-A-Lot peed!”
“Outside,” Sawyer calls calmly, not even breaking eye contact with me.
Ellie shouts, “Inferno’s chewing the ornaments!”
“Ellie—”
Rosie interrupts with, “Sprinkles likes my ear!”
I laugh. Sawyer exhales slowly, smiling in a way he never used to.
“You still think marrying me was reckless?” I tease.
He leans down, mouth brushing my temple. “It was the wildest, smartest decision I’ve ever made.”
The kids finally settle onto the rug in front of the tree, puppies collapsing in a spotted heap between them.
Inferno licks Sir Barks-A-Lot’s ear. Sprinkles gnaws on Grayson’s sock. Sir Barks-A-Lot flops dramatically onto his back and lets the girls crawl over him.
Lacee moves into the kitchen and pulls flour out of a cupboard and milk from the fridge to start pancakes.
I sink into the couch.
Sawyer sits beside me and pulls me against him without hesitation.
His arm is heavy and solid around my shoulders.
Outside, snow drifts quietly past the windows.
Inside, warmth hums steady and alive.
“Mom?” Ellie calls softly.
“Yeah?”
“Can we keep them forever?”
Sawyer answers before I can. “Yes.”
No hesitation.
No bracing.
Just certainty.
Ellie smiles like she expected nothing less.
Grayson raises his fist triumphantly.
Rosie falls asleep sitting up, Sprinkles curled in her lap.
I rest my head against Sawyer’s shoulder.
“You don’t look like a man surviving,” I murmur.
“I’m not,” he says simply.
The fire crackles low and steady.
He kisses my forehead gently.
“The brightest love doesn’t burn everything down,” he says quietly.
I look up at him.
“What does it do?”
“It stays.”
The kids’ breathing evens out.
The puppies finally stop chewing long enough to sleep.
Snow keeps falling.
Seven years ago, he was a man who thought loving again would undo him.
Now he’s a father with flour on his jeans, puppy fur on his socks, and four children who know only the steady version of him.
This time he didn’t lose everything.
He found it.
And it’s loud.
And messy.
And spotted.
And warm.
And ours.
The End