Page 29 of The Blaze Between Us

Ollis grins unrepentantly. "I had nothing to do with that particular idea, but I can neither confirm nor deny that several of us might have already purchased incredibly small turnout gear for future birthdays."

"Of course you did," I sigh, though I'm fighting a smile.

Richard watches this exchange with curious attention, his eyes lingering on James. After a moment's hesitation, he asks, "May I hold him? My grandson?"

The question carries weight beyond its simple words—acknowledgment of his role, desire for connection, an olive branch extended. Tasha meets my eyes briefly, and I give her a slight nod of encouragement.

"Of course," she says, transferring James to her father's arms. "Support his head—there you go."

Seeing my son in his grandfather's uncertain but gentle hold creates a complicated tangle of emotions. This man hurt Tasha deeply with his absence, his alcoholism, his inability to be the father she needed. Yet here he is, trying to be the grandfather James deserves. Growth and second chances are themes I understand intimately.

James reaches up to pat Richard's cheek with surprising gentleness, babbling something that sounds vaguely interrogative.

"He wants to know where you've been hiding his whole life," Lewis translates as he passes by, carrying what I strongly suspect is his infamous spiked punch. "Kid's got questions."

Richard looks startled, then lets out a surprised chuckle. "Smart kid."

"Too smart," I confirm. "Takes after his mother that way, too."

"Speech!" Lewis calls suddenly, tapping a plastic fork against his cup. "Chief needs to make a toast!"

The room quiets, expectant faces turning toward me. Public speaking has never bothered me—part of the job—but the emotion of the moment catches in my throat as I look around at these people who make up the fabric of our lives.

"I'll keep this brief," I begin, moving to stand beside Tasha and James, who remains in his grandfather's arms. "Tasha and I want to thank all of you for coming today to celebrate this little guy's first trip around the sun."

Appreciative chuckles ripple through the crowd.

"Especially those of you who are technically on duty," I add, giving Lewis and Ollis a pointed look. "And have somehowmanaged to spike the punch despite being responsible for public safety later today."

"It's for morale, Chief!" Lewis calls back without a hint of remorse, sparking laughter throughout the station.

"Your dedication to department morale is noted," I reply dryly. "And will be remembered during next month's schedule assignments."

More laughter, louder this time.

"Three years ago," I continue once the room settles, "I thought I knew exactly what my future held—work, routine, watching Ellie build her life. I was content with that. But then a storm rolled in, both literally and figuratively."

Tasha's eyes glisten with understanding. Only she knows the full significance of that rainy day on the mountain trail and how completely it altered the course of our lives.

"That storm brought this extraordinary woman into my life," I say, reaching for her hand. "And she brought laughter back into this old house, adventure into quiet days, and eventually, this perfect little boy who has his mother's eyes and unfortunately, my stubborn streak."

"The Sullivan stubborn streak is genetic," Ellie pipes up from where she's photographing the moment. "I can confirm."

"As can anyone who's ever worked a shift with you, Chief," Max adds with a grin.

"I'm feeling very attacked right now," I respond, unable to keep the smile from my face.

This is what I love most about my crew, about this extended family we've built—the easy ribbing, the genuine affection beneath the teasing.

"As I was saying before being so rudely interrupted by my subordinates and offspring," I continue with mock severity, "today we're celebrating not just James's first year, but the family that surrounds him—biological, chosen, and honorary firefighter uncles who will undoubtedly teach him things I'd rather he not learn until he's thirty."

"Twenty-one, minimum," Grant negotiates from beside Ellie.

"Twenty-five," I counter.

"Deal," the room choruses back, as if they've actually been given a say in the matter.

I look at Richard, still holding James with growing confidence, and add, "We're celebrating new beginnings and second chances. The family we're born to, the family we choose, and the family we create together."

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