Total pages in book: 18
Estimated words: 19364 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 97(@200wpm)___ 77(@250wpm)___ 65(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 19364 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 97(@200wpm)___ 77(@250wpm)___ 65(@300wpm)
We lie there, snowlight climbing the walls, neither of us in a hurry to name anything.
Then the firehouse doors roll open.
Metal grinds. Voices echo. Boots stomp snow loose.
Dax stiffens beneath me.
“Oh no,” I whisper.
He exhales through his nose. “Give it three seconds.”
“Morning!” someone calls too loudly. “Hey—who’s in the spare bunk room?”
Another beat. Then—“Well I’ll be damned.”
I squeeze my eyes shut as laughter erupts. Loud. Relentless. The kind that echoes off cement and refuses to be ignored.
I sit up too fast, tangling myself in Dax’s arm and the blanket. My hair is a mess. My shirt—his shirt—has ridden up my thigh. I am painfully, mortifyingly aware that every man in the hallway is staring, the door hanging open and a smirk dancing on Ash’s face.
Ash’s grin is feral. Axel’s eyebrows are practically in his hairline. Someone wolf-whistles.
“Well,” Ash drawls, “guess Valentine’s Day worked out after all.”
I feel heat crawl up my neck. “Good morning to you too.”
Axel laughs. “Morning, Rory. Didn’t realize we were hosting sleepovers.”
Dax sits up slowly, deliberately, like he’s choosing his ground. He doesn’t move his arm from around me. Doesn’t try to hide anything.
That’s when I realize something important.
He’s not embarrassed.
He looks… pleased.
Ash leans against the table, arms crossed. “So. You finally gonna tell us, or should we just assume the obvious?”
Dax glances down at me. Checks my face. Gives me a second to pull myself together.
Then he looks back at them. “Assume whatever you want.”
Axel snorts. “Oh, we will.”
I laugh despite myself, ducking my face into Dax’s shoulder. “I’m never coming back here.”
“Liar,” Ash says cheerfully. “You love us.”
“Not right now.”
The teasing ramps up instantly.
“How long’s this been going on?”
“Place your bets—high school?”
“I told you,” someone mutters. “Told you he was gone the second she looked at him sideways.”
Dax finally smirks. “You all done?”
“Not even close,” Axel says. “So what’s the plan here, Hayes?”
Dax’s hand tightens at my waist, just enough to ground me.
“No plan,” he says evenly. “Just… us.”
Ash’s grin turns sharp. “Careful. That sounds like commitment.”
Dax doesn’t hesitate. “Yeah.”
The room goes quiet.
Not dead silent—but enough.
I lift my head, heart racing, and look at him. He’s not looking at the guys. He’s looking straight ahead, steady as a mountain.
Axel breaks first, laughing. “Well hell. Guess that answers that.”
Ash points at him. “You better put a ring on it, Hayes.”
My face goes nuclear.
Every instinct in my body screams to deflect, joke, run—but Dax doesn’t deny it. Doesn’t laugh it off. Doesn’t say someday or maybe or whoa, slow down.
He just shrugs. “Working on it.”
The room explodes.
I stare at him. “You are not.”
His mouth curves. “Didn’t say when.”
I swat his chest. “You are impossible.”
“And you love it,” Ash says.
“I absolutely do not.”
Dax laughs then—full and warm and completely unbothered. “She does.”
Axel claps his hands. “Alright, lovebirds. Coffee’s on. Rory, you’re officially responsible for Hayes smiling before noon.”
I slide off the couch, smoothing my hair, trying to reclaim dignity that left me somewhere around the wolf whistle. Dax stands with me, towering, solid, unapologetically close.
As the crew disperses, Ash pauses beside us. His tone softens just a fraction. “About damn time.”
Dax nods once. “Yeah.”
The firehouse empties into motion—coffee brewing, radios crackling, the day reasserting itself. I realize with a strange sense of wonder that nothing feels ruined. Nothing feels broken.
If anything, it feels claimed.
Dax leans in, voice low. “You okay?”
I meet his gaze. “I think I am.”
He smiles like that means everything.
We move toward the kitchen together, shoulders brushing, steps in sync. The snow outside gleams, the storm officially over.
And for the first time, the morning after doesn’t feel like a question.
It feels like a beginning.
Chapter 13
Dax
The firehouse smells like burned coffee and snow-soaked gear, the kind of morning-after normal that should make everything feel smaller. Manageable. Back in its box.
It doesn’t.
Rory stands at the counter, hands wrapped around a mug she hasn’t touched, staring out the window like the mountain might give her instructions. She’s wearing my hoodie again. The sight hits low and hard—possessive in a way I don’t bother trying to soften.
I cross the room without thinking. Stop close. Close enough that she has to feel me there.
“You okay?” I ask.
She glances sideways. A smile ghosts her mouth, uncertain but real. “I think so. Still processing.”
“Yeah.” I nod once. “Same.”
Silence stretches. Not awkward. Weighted. The kind that asks something of you.
I’ve hidden in silence my whole life.
Not today.
I reach for her mug and slide it aside, taking her hands instead. Warm. Steady. She doesn’t pull away.
“Rory,” I say, and the way her name lands between us feels deliberate. Chosen. “I need to say something. Out loud.”
Her breath hitches. “Okay.”
I don’t kneel. I don’t joke. I don’t hedge.
I look at her.
“I choose you.”
The words feel like a door slamming shut behind me—and another one blowing wide open.
Her eyes flicker, searching my face like she’s bracing for the punchline.