Page 80 of Knotting the Firefighters
That's what makes this worse, what transforms a difficult decision into an impossible one. Because Wendolyn Murphy is fundamentally generous in ways that defy her self-preservation instincts. She'd rather wish me well, support my dreams, and sacrifice her own happiness to ensure mine.
Selfless to the point of self-destruction.
Just like running into burning buildings to save kittens, just like taking command of a chaotic station without hesitation, just like every choice she makes that prioritizes others over herself.
She deserves better.
Deserves Alpha, who chooses her first, consistently, without hesitation.
A pack that won't make her compete with career ambitions.
The rental space settles around us—old wood creaking, Montana wind whistling through gaps in weatherstripping, the ambient sounds of rural night that I've grown accustomed to over six months. This place has become familiar, comfortable in ways Los Angeles never was, despite spending most of my career there.
Because she's here.
Anywhere becomes home when Wendolyn Murphy exists in it.
Memories surface unbidden—the first night I found her crying in her car outside Wildflower & Wren, overwhelmed by nightmares and the weight of starting over. How I'd heldher then, too, offered comfort without expectations, begun the careful dance of friendship that evolved into something neither of us could name.
Six months of falling.
Slowly, inevitably, completely.
Building something that feels permanent despite our mutual refusal to define it.
And now I'm contemplating walking away, chasing a promotion that might bea legitimate opportunity or elaborate trap, leaving behind the one person who makes me feel valued beyond my professional capabilities.
The one individual who gives me purpose.
Who sees Calder Hayes rather than just a competent firefighter?
Who matters more than any badge or position or career advancement?
The realization should clarify my decision, should make the choice obvious. Stay in Sweetwater Falls, maintain proximity to Wendolyn, and accept that the captain position isn't worth losing her.
But it's not that simple.
Because staying means watching her integrate into Aidric's pack, means observing their bonds strengthen while mine remains static, means existing on the periphery of her life rather than being central to it.
Staying means slow torture.
Watching her fall in love with Alphas who can offer what I can't.
Witnessing the inevitable conclusion where she chooses pack over lone wolf.
At least leaving provides a clean break—painful but definitive, allowing both of us to move forward rather than prolonging the inevitable ending. She'll have her pack, I'll havemy position, we'll both achieve what we need, even if it destroys what we want.
Logical.
Practical.
Absolutely fucking devastating.
My hand moves through her hair with gentle reverence, fingers carding through tangles while I memorize the texture, the color, the particular way red catches even dim lamplight and transforms into living flame.
How do you choose between dreams?
Between the career you've built and the person who makes that career meaningful?
