Page 114 of Not For Keeps
Mari wipes her eyes again. “He’s so in love with you. I love you guys together.”
We all laugh, and it feels good. So full. My chest aches in the best way—stretched by love and gratitude.
Anna raises her mug. “Another toast! To reckless, beautiful love.”
Mari lifts hers, too. “To Mateo and Lyse!”
I smile, lifting my cup with both hands. “To second chances.”
I soak this all in—the people I love, the life we’re rebuilding, the future we’re choosing. And finally, it feels like I’m living.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
ANALYSE
The high school gym looks nothing like it did when I was a student here.
Back then, it always smelled faintly of sweat and floor polish, the bleachers creaked no matter how still you sat, and the banners lining the walls felt impossibly grand when you were fourteen and full of nerves.
Now, the space is unrecognizable in the best way. Streamers in mismatched shades of blue and yellow hang from the rafters, clashing a little with the high school’s maroon and silver, but no one seems to care.
Paper stars flutter above the tables, strung on a fishing line and lit from below by string lights tucked around table legs and raffle baskets. Every surface is covered. Handwritten sheets curling at the corners, mason jars full of tickets, Tupperware containers brimming with cookies, brownies, and pastel frosted cupcakes.
It’s chaotic. It’s crowded. It’s beautiful.
Mateo threads his fingers through mine and gives a gentle squeeze, his hand warm and steady against mine.
Seb passes by, carrying a tray of cupcakes like his life depends on it. “If I drop these, Mariana’s going to kill me,” he mutters, eyes wide with concentration, disappearing into the crowd before we can respond.
I can’t help the laugh that escapes me, and then just as quickly, I wince as the movement tugs at the muscles in my healing leg. The crutches tucked under my arms feel heavy, my arms already sore from relying on them all day. They wobble just slightly, and before I can shift my weight, Mateo is there. One arm wraps around my back, the other steadying the crutch before it slips.
“Easy,” he murmurs, voice low, eyes sharp. “Are you okay? Are you sure you want to be here?”
I nod. “I’m okay. I needed to be here. It’s more than just a fundraiser…it’s a beginning.”
And it is. More than a bake sale or a raffle or a few heartfelt speeches. This isn’t just about rebuilding the elementary school—it’s about reminding everyone that we still have something left. That even in the face of smoke, ashes, and sirens, we showed up. We pulled together. We made something out of the pieces.
It’s about the teachers and students who lost their classrooms. About the parents still holding their kids a little tighter at night. About the way this town doesn’t just survive…it insists on healing out loud, together.
And maybe, selfishly, it’s about me, too. About proving to myself that I’m not broken. That I can show up, even if I’m still a little wobbly. That I’m part of this community, too. Not just someone who needed to be saved, but someone who can stand beside the people doing the saving.
Mateo settles into the chair beside me, his thigh brushing mine, his hand never leaving my own.
“You did good, Lake City,” I murmur, eyes sweeping the crowd.
He smiles, eyes soft. “We did good.”
The principal of the elementary school takes the stage, her voice cracking as she thanks everyone for coming. She talks about the night of the fire, the courage of the first responders, and the miracle that no lives were lost. And then she talks about the kids—about what they’ve lost, but most importantly what they still have.
Each other.
By the time she finishes, I’m holding back tears. So is half the gym.
“Alright,” the MC calls into the mix, “raffle winners will be announced in ten minutes, and we’ve still got three pies left for the throwing booth, so if you’ve ever wanted to smack your favorite firefighter in the face with dessert…now’s your chance.”
Mateo groans. “Why did I agree to that?”
“Because you love this town,” I tease. “And because you look great covered in whipped cream. Too bad I can’t lick it up.”
