Page 142 of Knotting the Firefighters
"Sure, you thrifted and vintage shopped partially to save money. But didn't you actually enjoy wearing such clothing? Didn't the aesthetic bring you genuine happiness beyond just being an affordable option?"
He's right.
Completely, frustratingly right.
I didn't just wear vintage because I had to—I wore it because I loved it, because it made me feel beautiful, because the aesthetic represented who I wanted to be rather than who circumstances forced me to become.
"You're right," I admit quietly, gratitude warming my chest. "I won't let go of what I love just because I have additional options now."
His smile is sweet—approval evident, satisfaction at helping me recognize something I'd apparently forgotten in the chaos of wardrobe transformation.
"Good. Never abandon what brings you joy just because someone else thinks you should."
He tugs gently on my hand, already moving toward the vintage store.
"Let's leave the bickering fools to their arguments. They'll either work it out or exhaust themselves—either way, we'll have a more productive afternoon exploring clothing that actually interests you."
Bear laughs—a warm sound that carries down the street, probably audible to the arguing pair behind us.
"Maybe they'll go back to the truck and fuck it out," he suggests with theatrical innocence. "Work through all that unresolved tension through physical reconciliation."
The growls are immediate.
Synchronized, furious, absolutely predictable.
Both Calder and Aidric snap their attention to Bear, twin expressions of outrage evident, arguments temporarily suspended in favor of unified denial of his suggestion.
"THAT'S NEVER GOING TO HAPPEN," they declare in unison, the synchronized response only proving Bear's point about their ridiculous connection.
I can't suppress my smirk, amusement overriding any concern about their conflict.
"Is this how they always are?" The question is directed at Silas, who's clearly the most stable source of information about pack dynamics.
"Pretty much," he confirms with resigned acceptance. "The only time they achieve peace is when physically separated or—" He pauses, considering his words. "—obviously when Calder returned to LA. Though that created different problems."
Different problems.
Intriguing phrasing.
"What kind of problems?"
"Aidric moped for approximately six months," Silas reveals with clinical detachment. "Claimed he was fine, maintainedprofessional competence, but was absolutely miserable despite insisting he was relieved by Calder's absence."
Six months?
Aidric moped for six months?
After Calder left?
The revelation makes me gasp, attention swinging toward Aidric, who's apparently close enough to overhear despite his ongoing argument with Calder.
He freezes mid-sentence, body going rigid as he turns toward us with an expression broadcasting absolute denial.
"They're fucking lying," he declares with conviction that would be more believable if his ears weren't turning red. "Complete fabrication designed to make me look pathetic."
Bear opens his mouth—clearly preparing to provide specific examples, to cite incidents that prove Silas's assessment.
"Get into your little vintage shop and stop talking about the stupid past," Aidric interrupts with enough force to suggest genuine distress rather than simple irritation. "Ancient history that's completely irrelevant to current circumstances."
