Page 30 of The Firefighter's Angel
“I thought…I might not see you again,” she says weakly, her voice cracking with a sob.
I pull back just enough to look at her, brushing wet strands from her face. “Don’t say that. Don’t ever say that. You hear me? I couldn’t stop thinking about you. I was going crazy out there.”
I kiss her. Deep, hard, desperate. The kind of kiss that tastes like fear and rain and everything I was too scared to admit until right now.
“I can’t live without you, Cindy,” I whisper against her lips. “It hasn’t been long, but I don’t give a damn. That’s how I feel.”
Her eyes glisten with tears that mix with the rain on her cheeks. “I feel the same way,” she says, voice trembling. “You’re the only place I feel safe.”
I slide my jacket off and wrap it around her, tucking her close against my chest. The cold doesn’t matter. Nothing does but the way she fits in my arms.
She’s shivering, but she presses in closer, her lips brushing my jaw. “You’re warm,” she murmurs, almost like a secret.
“Always will be,” I murmur back, cupping my palm over her cheek, sweeping my thumb over her lower lip. “For you.”
Her breath catches. Her hand curls into my soaked shirt. And even out here, on a forest floor, soaked and half-frozen, we fall into that kiss again. Slower this time. Hotter, despite the cold. Her tongue finds mine, her fingers tangling in my hair. It’s like the storm disappears around us, replaced by this heat. This pull. This fire that only burns for her.
She whimpers softly into my mouth. “Daniel…”
“I got you,” I whisper, lips brushing her ear. “You’re safe, baby girl. Always.”
“I need you,” she whispers back.
I groan, holding her tighter. “You’re gonna be the death of me, darlin’.”
I’m sliding my hand under the edge of the jacket, running my palm over the smooth skin beneath, when a voice cracks through the rain.
“Well, damn. Should we give you two a minute, or…?”
Cindy jumps back but I hold her waist, keeping her firmly pressed to my chest. One of Ben’s guys is standing a few feet above us with a flashlight and a smirk. Another crew member is behind him, carrying a med kit.
“Get a room,” the guy laughs, tossing me a blanket. “C’mon, lover boy. Let’s get her warm before y’all start fogging up the forest.”
Cindy laughs weakly against my shoulder, and I swear I’ve never heard anything better.
“God, I love you,” I mutter, pressing a kiss against her temple. “I love you so much.”
“I love you too,” she says, burying her face in my neck.
Epilogue
Cindy
It’s been three whole years since that day in the woods. Since I ran. Since I fell. Since he found me.
I still remember the way the air smelled that day, sharp and smoky, wild with pine and something electric I didn’t have a name for back then. Now I do.
It was Daniel.
And every day since has been a gift.
We live just a short walk from the old ranger outpost now, just us and Lucy and another pup Daniel rescued last month—I named him Rocky. Daniel rebuilt the cabin piece by piece, nestled right into the hillside. It’s all windows and warmth and firelight, and at night when it storms, he holds me like the world might break without me in it.
Two years ago, we got married in a small clearing where the pines parted like they’d created a clearing just for us. No frills, no big fuss. Just us, the dogs, Ben, a few close friends, and the sound of the wind in the trees. I wore boots under my dress and Daniel wore that cocky, love-drunk smile that still gives me goose bumps.
He promised to take care of me. And damn, has he made good on that.
He still works with the fire crews, now more focused on aerial support and logistics, but when he’s home, he’s home. He kisses me like I’m air and he eats my pancakes like I’m a Michelin-star chef. He’s carved out a space for me here, in his world, where I never feel small or like I have to be someone else to be loved.
