Page 20 of Let it Ignite
"You don’t need Hollywood," he says, pulling out the simplest, most beautiful ring I’ve ever seen. "Because the world you built here? The life you breathe into every room, every page, every kiss? That’s what people will remember. That’s what I want to wake up next to every damn day. Would you do me the honor of being my wife?"
The crowd is silent.
And then I say, "Yes."
He stands and I throw my arms around him, kissing him through happy tears, through laughter, through the pounding applause. Serena is sobbing, Samira is filming, and someone from the firehouse is wolf-whistling loud enough to make the mayor jump.
I don’t care.
Because the girl who thought she needed lights, cameras, and Hollywood?
She found her happy ending in fire trucks, flannel, and one hell of a firefighter.
Byron leans down, brushing his lips against my ear as the cheers fade into a gentle hum behind us.
"So, soon to be Mrs. Summers… you going to keep writing stories, or are you just going to write ours from now on?"
I laugh through my tears. "Oh, I’m definitely writing ours. But fair warning—it’s going to be very steamy."
He grins. "Good. Because I plan on giving you plenty of material."
Before I can respond, he pulls me into him with both hands cupping my face, and kisses me like the world’s ending. Like this stage is just a blur and the only thing real is the way his mouth moves against mine—hungry and reverent. The crowd erupts again, but I don’t hear any of it. All I hear is the thud of my heart and the soft groan he lets out when my fingers tangle in his hair. It’s hot, it’s messy, and it’s us—perfectly, wildly us.
Samira yells from the audience, "Get a room!"
Serena shouts back, "Let them have this, Samira! This istrue love!"
Levi, standing beside her with a smirk and his arms crossed, adds loudly, "Alright, but if y’all start making out again, I’m pulling the fire alarm—strictly for crowd control purposes."
I look up at Byron, my hand still in his, the ring catching the light like it was always meant to be there.
"I didn’t think I could have all of this," I whisper.
"You can," he says, tugging me close again. "You already do."
And right there, under the lights of a school stage in a town I never meant to stay in, I realize I never want to leave.
Not when he’s here.
Not when this—us—is home.
I finally found my happy ending in fire trucks, flannel, and one hell of a firefighter.
Epilogue
Byron
5 years later
The baby monitor crackles on the nightstand, but the house is still. Both kids are finally asleep, with Rusty standing guard at the foot of their bed. I lie on my side, one arm draped around my wife’s waist, her body warm and soft against mine.
"They’re out," she whispers.
I press a kiss to the back of her neck, letting my hand slide lower, palming her hip. "Then so are excuses."
She laughs, low and sweet, and shifts against me, rubbing her perfect ass into my groin. My cock responds instantly—always does with her. Even after all this time. Especially after all this time.
"You tired?" I ask, voice already rough.
