Page 71 of Knotting the Firefighters
Why didn't he mention this sooner?
My mouth opens, closes, opens again—apparently I'm channeling Aidric's fish impression, unable to formulate a coherent response past the sudden panic flooding my system.
Because Calder's leaving means?—
Everything.
Everything changes if he's not here.
Everything becomes exponentially more complicated without his steady presence, his familiar scent, his understanding of who I was before Sweetwater Falls.
"When?" The question emerges smaller than intended, stripped of the confidence I usually project.
Calder's jaw works, muscle ticking with tension.
"They want me back within two weeks. Permanent position, not temporary coverage. Promotion to captain, actually—my own station, own crew...everything I've been working toward."
His dream.
The career advancement he deserves.
The opportunity I should be celebrating instead of feeling like my world just tilted sideways.
"That's—" My voice cracks, forcing me to clear my throat. "That's incredible, Calder. Really. You've earned it."
His laugh is bitter, completely devoid of joy.
"Have I? Because it feels like a cosmic joke…finally get the promotion I've wanted for years, and it means leaving the one person who actually matters."
Oh.
We're really doing this.
Having the conversation we've avoided for a real long time…
My situationship…I guess…is coming to an end.
PACKING UP PROMISES
~WENDOLYN~
The rental cottage feels different now—smaller, temporary, like a stage set I've been inhabiting rather than an actual home. Cardboard boxes litter the bedroom floor in various states of completion, their contents a curated selection of essentials deemed necessary for three months of firehouse living.
Three months.
Ninety days of cohabitation with four Alphas in a station designed for emergency response rather than domestic comfort.
What could possibly go wrong?
The thought makes me frown as I realize I need to correct myself.
Or three Alphas…
Calder moves through the space with practiced efficiency, lifting items I can't safely bend to reach, carrying boxes that would strain my healing back, and maintaining careful distance that feels deliberate rather than accidental.
We haven't finished our conversation from the hospital.
"I've been requested to return to the LA Fire Department."
