Page 48 of Fire Me Up
“Right now.” I set down the parts box I’d been clutching without even realizing it. “As soon as I can get my bike ready.”
“It’s an hour and a half ride.”
“I don’t care.” I was already moving, gathering my things, mind racing with plans. What to say, how to apologize, how to show Gael I was ready—terrified, but ready—to be all in. “I know where he is. And I’ve wasted enough time already.”
I caught the sisters exchanging another look—part exasperation, part fondness.
“Fine.” Liv threw up her hands. “I’ll finish this repair myself. In the name of love.”
Marisol stood up. “I can help! What do you need me to do? I like the wrench that makes those cute little clicking noises. Can I use that?”
“No!” We both barked, then burst out laughing, and I reached out, giving both of them a hug, thanking them for everything.
Chapter 16
Dylan
Iparked across from the station—a two-story brick building with massive bay doors currently open, revealing one fire engine gleaming under the lights. My heart hammered against my ribs as I stepped out of the truck. This was a mistake. This was insane. I should just turn around, drive back to Denver, and stop torturing myself.
Instead, I crossed the street, walked through the open bay, and found myself standing awkwardly in what appeared to be the main living area of the station. Three firefighters sat around a kitchen table playing cards. A fourth was stretched out on a couch watching TV.
“Can we help you?” One of the guys at the table looked up—tall, buzz cut, biceps like small mountains.
I cleared my throat. “I’m looking for Gael Sanchez.”
The effect was immediate. All four heads swiveled toward me, card game forgotten, TV ignored. The guy on the couch sat up so fast he nearly fell off.
“And you are…?” Buzz Cut asked, a slow grin spreading across his face.
“A friend. My name is Dylan.” I shoved my hands in my pockets, trying not to fidget under their collective stare.
“Holy shit!” The guy on the couch jumped to his feet. “You’re Dylan? THE Dylan?”
Another firefighter—this one with a sleeve of tattoos and a nose that had clearly been broken more than once—let out a low whistle. “No fucking way. Sanchez’s Dylan?”
“The guy who broke his heart?” Buzz Cut crossed his arms, his expression shifting to something more evaluating. “I guess I could see that. You’re kinda hot.”
I blinked, unprepared for this reception. “I... what?”
“You’d better be here to fix that shit,” Broken Nose said, tossing down his cards. “Dude’s been moping around like someone kicked his puppy. Or his cat, I guess. I don’t think he’s a dog person.”
“You know about Bacon?” The words slipped out before I could stop them.
All four men burst into laughter.
“Know about him?” The fourth guy, who hadn’t spoken yet, snorted. “Who the fuck could know Gael and not know his cat? That orange menace comes to work with him half the time. Has his own little bed in the corner of the captain’s office.”
“Is he here? I need to I started, then stopped. What was the point of denying it? “I just want to see him.”
The four exchanged glances, some unspoken communication passing between them.
“He’s upstairs,” Broken Nose finally said, jerking his thumb toward a staircase at the back of the room. “Locker room. We just got back from a call.”
Buzz Cut stepped closer, lowering his voice. “Ask him to be your boyfriend, okay? I can’t take another day of him sighing over his phone like a thirteen-year-old girl.”
“And for fuck’s sake, reply to his text messages,” Couch Guy added.
I nodded, not trusting myself to speak, and headed for the stairs. With each step, my heart rate kicked up another notch until I could feel my pulse in my fucking eyeballs. What was I going to say? What if he told me to fuck off? What if he didn’t?
