AFTER A LONG AND ANXIETY-INDUCING NIGHT SPENT WITH no cell phone connection and an out-of-control wildfire blocking my escape, I take a break from berating myself for being so impulsive and emotionally charged to gaze at the aircraft above me.

    Hope courses through me. Like jumping into cool water on a hot day. It soothes, it refreshes, it makes tears leap to my eyes.

    “Bash,” I murmur, holding a hand to my forehead and watching the ne with a provincial logo flying low overhead.

    The relief I feel at the sight of what I just know is him is monumental and unlike anything I’ve ever felt before.

    After loading up my truck with every remotely sentimental thing I could find, I spent the entire night adjusting sprinklers and hoses around Clyde’s property in a desperate attempt to save his home.

    I figured the trees were basically kindling after the dry spring, but the grass was just as dehydrated. Until I got to soaking it.

    At some point, I discovered that if I had to make my escape, I could leave down the creek on foot and it would take me in the opposite direction of the fire. It would be risky, though. Phone service is out and I have no idea where I’m going and all that would have to change is the direction of the wind… then I’d have a monster of a wildfire pursuing me.

    When I attempted driving back down the road that leads here, I found the fire was encroaching on both sides. I realized that if I hit a dead end or a downed tree, I could be stuck in a much morepromising position than I already was.

    Ultimately, after weighing my options, I employed the method for if you get separated from your parent in the grocery store.

    Stay where you are.

    So I sat in my truck, tried to meditate, and failed. I thought about Bash, about our dispute and the tense note we left things on. It made me realize how inconsequential all of that felt in the face of something this terrifying.

    I don’t want to say those disagreements don’t matter. It’s just that they feel a lot less important when you’re faced with the possibility of dying and leaving the man you love behind.

    I don’t take back what I told him, but I spent many hours wishing that I hadn’t walked out. That I’d pulled up a stool and waited him out.

    That I’d been brave enough to stay, that I hadn’t given in to my instinct to run.

    He takes another low swoop over, and I watch with butterflies in my chest and tears on my cheeks.

    Soon, two more nes join him, slightly different in design and size. A voice crackles from a speaker in one, telling me to get in my vehicle.

    I wave up at the airne, showing my agreement, and jog toward my truck. Within minutes, the nes zip over and liquid stters across the roof. Droplets from it streak down my windshield. I drop my head against the headrest and shame-spiral, feeling guilty for all the resources I’m taking up.

    All because I’m a big old bleeding heart with an impulsive streak.

    But what’s done is done, and I’m not about to turn away rescue when the universe plunks it in myp.

    Time blurs as I sit in my truck. I alternate between closing my eyes, trying to dissociate to ease my fear, and looking out to see if anything’s changed.

    Eventually, the roar of the nes recedes and everything grows quiet, leaving only the crackle of the nearby fire. Movement at the end of the driveway draws my attention, and apact fire rescue vehicle careens onto the property.

    It stops right beside me, and a female police officer climbs out, along with a man dressed simrly to Bash—only his shirt reads Alberta Wildfire.

    He rounds the front of the vehicle and jogs toward me as I roll down the window. “Gwen?” he asks.

    “Yeah, that’s me,” I say, trying not to give in to the welling tears in my eyes. There’s an embroidered patch over his heart that spells out Eaton and I focus on that instead.

    “So d we found you.” He smiles, and it might be the most reassuring smile in the world. Something about him screams confident and capable, and it eases the knot in my chest.

    He reaches a hand toward me. “Hi. I’m Beau. Here to help you out. What do you say we get the hell off this mountain?”

    I shake his hand through the open window, grateful. “Sounds like a really, really great n. You are officially my hero.”

    “Ah, I don’t know if I would take it that far. I just got in from out of province to help out, walked into the station to hear a fe up in one of those nes losing his goddamn mind on the radio over finding you. Figured I could make a detour on my way to the front lines.”

    I wince. “Sorry. Is he being a nightmare?”

    The man grins. “Nah. I’d be the same over my girl too.”

    I blink at him, too stunned to know how to respond, but he forges ahead, unconcerned by silence. “Are you good to follow us down, or do you want me to hop in with you?”

    “Oh, no. I’m okay to follow you down.”

    “The guys in the air cleared the road, so we should be good to go. It was fineing up, but we’ll want to get down before anything changes.”

    I nod quickly, reaching for the keys and starting my engine. “Let’s go, then.”hr

    When the road shifts from gravel and winding to smooth and paved, I heave out a sigh of relief.

    With the red truck before me and the fire behind me, exhaustion hits me hard and fast.

    Up ahead, I spot the blockade—that wasn’t therest night—and two cop cars stretching across the road, lights shing.

    Just beyond it, I see a ck truck that I’d recognize anywhere.

    Relief courses through me at the sight of the man whoes into focus as I draw nearer. Bash, standing with his hands linked behind his head, his body coiled with tension as he stares straight ahead like he’s trying to will me into existence.

    The second he sees my truck, he goes from pacing on the spot to gunning for me.

    Bash pushes his way past the cars and weaves past the barricades the second we slow. My eyes sting as I watch him run to me. Strong, stoic, and fucking frantic.

    The minute I’m close enough to the barricade, I throw my truck in park and open the door, leaving the engine running as I step out onto the asphalt.

    Within seconds, he’s there. In the flesh. Right in front of me.

    Reaching for me. Yanking me into his arms as I wrap my own around his neck. He crushes me against him so tight, it takes my breath away. I don’t even mind. It’s the perfect reminder that I’m alive.

    I breathe him in. And while the air smells like smoke, he smells like him.

    He smells like the forest, like trees and amber and gasoline and home.

    “I’m so sorry,” I cry as he buries his face in my neck.

    He says nothing, but I feel his head shake as he holds me in a vise grip.

    “I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry,” I chant, not knowing what else to tell him.

    He still says nothing, but I feel wetness on my neck, a warm trickle rolling down the slope toward my shoulder.

    A punch to the gut.

    I squeeze him back tighter, pressing myself closer, rubbing my cheek against him. Wishing I could somehow merge myself with him right here and now, undo the hurt and fear I caused.

    “Bash. I wasn’t… I’m just…” I pull back, wanting to find the right thing to say to him but not knowing where to start.

    Tears have clumped hisshes together, and they trickle down his roughly hewn cheeks and freshly shaven jaw.

    He looks me over with watery eyes, tracing me as though he’s checking for any injury. His hands follow too, fluttering over my arms and across my shoulders. Like he needs proof.

    “I’m fine, I’m fine,” I say. “I’m sorry, but I’m good. I promise.”

    God, watching him look so distraught is breaking my heart, and I need to exin myself. “I didn’t know. There was no blockade in ce when I went upst night. I thought I was—”

    “Gwen.” The way he says my name stops me in my tracks. It’s a plea on his lips, full of so much emotion. “I’m the one who’s sorry. I was out of line, overtired, and not myself. I should never have let that all get in my head. I’m just terrified of fucking this all up.”

    I meet his dark, imploring eyes. He grips my shoulders and gives me a gentle shake, as though checking to see if I’m truly standing before him. His head shakes and his gaze drinks me in. “You’re a fucking wild card. Unpredictable and never what I expect. You scare the hell out of me every damn day. But today more than any of them. Because I thought I lost you.” His voice cracks. So does my heart. “And I love you, and I hadn’t even gotten the chance to tell you.”

    My heart thuds and my tears finally fall.

    He loves me.

    There’s nothing showy about it. It’s not some big deration, it’s not poetic or flowery, but with him it doesn’t need to be. Everything with him is dressed down. Beautiful in its simplicity.

    He swallows and blinks rapidly, trying and failing to hide his emotion. Another gentle shake. “Never scare me like that again. Never.”

    Tears tumble over my cheeks as I nod quickly. “I love you too. I do. I have for a long time. And I promise I won’t ever scare you like that again. I promise.”

    I’m finally saying the words that have been trapped inside me for I don’t know how long. Words I’ve mulled over but never spent much time analyzing. Maybe because it just seemed too… obvious. Like, of course I’m in love with him. And of course he’s in love with me. Why else would we be risking it all for a shot at making this thing work?

    He sighs in relief and then he’s back to squeezing me. And just beyond him, I see Tripp. Watching from the passenger seat of Bash’s truck, looking pale as a ghost. He makes no move to get out of the vehicle, but he gives me a subtle salute with his hand.

    “I love you so fucking much,” Bash rasps against my hair, hands gliding over the back of my head, my spine, as though having to feel me to know that I’m real. “I didn’t know where you were. You could have died. I could have lost you. And all I could think was thest thing I’d have said to you was that you never stay anywhere for long. I told you to wait for me and then I told you to leave. And I… Gwen, I need you. Like my next breath. It’s… I can’t breathe without you. If you leave for Costa Rica, I’ming with you. Where you go, I’ll follow. I don’t care where we are as long as we’re together.”

    I squeeze him back harder, feeling my own tears as they soak into his shirt. He’d said that in the heat of our argument, and I hadn’t believed him for a single moment. “Okay, but where I want to be is here. With you. I already backed out of that job. I’m staying here. With you. Always. I need you too. That’s why I’m never waiting on you. I’m living with you.”

    A rough sob lurches from his throat, and he buries his face in my neck, letting me hold him as tight as I want.

    “You’re my limes, Bash. I’m the tequ. You and me? We’re gonna spend the rest of our lives making margaritas, okay?”

    I can tell he’s about to respond when I hear Beau’s voice from behind me. “Ma’am, do you have marijuana nts in the back of your truck?”

    Bash pulls back ever so slightly, our watery eyes meeting tenderly as I shrug. “Sorry, I couldn’t leave Maya’s babies behind.”

    Bash pulls me in again now, a tearful chuckle getting lost in the strands of my hair. “Like I said, a fucking wild card.”hr

    I’m driven back to the fire hall. Tripp takes Bash’s truck while Bash drives mine, our hands gripped together over the center console the entire way.

    We drive in silence for the first bit, and then, finally, Bash asks me what I know he’s been thinking since he found out I was missing. “What the hell were you thinking, Gwen?”

    I sigh, my eyes fluttering shut as my head rests against the back of the seat. “I wasn’t. I was already emotional from our spat, and then Clyde was just so broken up over his only memories of Maya being at his ce. I went to bed. I wasn’t going to do anything. But then I couldn’t sleep. I thought about how I’ve moved around constantly and how I don’t really have any physical objects that hold any kind of sentimental value to me.”

    His thumb caresses my hand, and I continue. “And then I thought about Clyde, this funny old man who seems so tough and never worries about anything. He spends all this time alone, and he must have really loved Maya to have never moved on. And it broke my heart. It got me thinking about you and me, and the connections we make in life, and how he might never have that again. But he does have those pictures. And I just went without thinking.

    “There was no blockade on the road. I drove straight up, and everything was fine. I packed up the truck, and then I thought, you know, what if I put some sprinklers on? Maybe it could save his ce. I knew it would drain the well, but—”

    Bash’s hand squeezes mine. “It did save the ce.”

    “What?” I turn wide eyes on Bash.

    “I’m not sure you realize how close that fire came, but the amount that you soaked the surrounding ground definitely made a difference. It’s blocked off now, and I can’t make any promises. But yes, currently you have saved Clyde’s ce—and also shaved ten years off my life.”

    One stray tear trickles down my cheek, and I brush it away quickly. Relief. I feel intense relief.

    Bash nces over at me as he continues. “I fucking hate that you went missing,” he says, “but I have to confess, if I’d been in your shoes, I might have done the same thing.”

    “Oh good. We both have a heroplex,” I tease as we turn into the local fire hall.

    “Let’s get you checked over,” he says in a way that leaves no room for argument.

    And from there, I’m led out of my truck and into the hall. A paramedic checks my blood pressure and my heartbeat. He asks if I’ve been injured, which of course I haven’t. But Bash hovers like an overprotective bodyguard all the same.

    He reminds them to check my breathing, to check my eyes, goes on about how smoke inhtion can manifest in different ways. I assure him I’m fine, but until I’ve been fully cleared, he doesn’t back down.

    It’s only when the paramedic leaves that we find Tripp standing quietly in the doorway, his shoulder propped against the frame. His eyes flick between us, his expression unreadable.

    I drop my gaze from him, guilt surging inside me. Bash opens his mouth to say something, but his son speaks first.

    “Listen,” Tripp says, his footsteps scuffing softly against the floor as he moves toward us in the nearly empty room. Only a foldout table and matching folding chairs fill the space. “I owe you both an apology.”

    Bash and I both stare at him, surprised by that statement.

    “If I’m being honest, I don’t know much about either of you. Bash, we’ve barely spent any time together. And, Gwen, you’re right—we were never serious. And I let some weird sense ofpetition make me act like an idiot. This year has been…” He huffs augh and looks away for a beat, wiping quickly at his nose. “A lot. Confusing in a lot of ways. But, Bash, I watched you today, and there was nothing confusing about it. You made endless phone calls. You paced. You yelled. You called in favors. You broke protocol, all just to get Gwen back. And that… that’s not something that I can even pretend I’ve felt before. And more than that, it’s not something I’d ever want to get in the way of.”

    He turns and looks at me now. “Gwen, you’re a great person. I do know that much about you. And I wish I knew what it felt like to love somebody the way Bash clearly loves you. So I just want you both to know you have my blessing. I’m not angry. But I am…” He trails off and lifts a hand, rubbing it over his chin thoughtfully.

    I can’t help but notice the pieces of hay sticking out of his expensive sweatsuit, and I wonder what he’s been up to because he would never be seen looking anything less than polished. But he doesn’t seem to care right now. He concentrates hard, silently searching for the words to express himself.

    “I’m going to… I don’t know. I’m going to need some time to adjust to this. Get my head on straight. I want this to be okay, but it might take me a beat toe to terms with it all.”

    We both stare at him nkly. I can’t speak for Bash, but I know that this is not what I was expecting from Tripp.

    “Thank you, Tripp,” I say softly.

    Bash nods his head in agreement. “Thank you, Tripp. And thank you for your help today. You really stepped up. And I know you’ve already got a dad to be proud of you, but if you wanted some random guy you barely know to be proud of you too, well, your dreams havee true.”

    Tripp lets out a dry chuckle, rolling his eyes. “I’ll take that. But you really aren’t so random, you know. A second dad might be all right. Eventually.”

    Bash smiles, looking a bit overwhelmed by the moment.

    But, of course, Tripp has to offset that by adding, “Gwen, I’m never calling you Mom, though.”

    I burst outughing, ovee by exhaustion and the aftereffects of high adrenaline.

    With that, Tripp grins and waves. “I’m heading out. See if they need more help at the farm. You two… I don’t know. You two have fun. Or something, I guess.”

    His face crinkles up, awkwardness tinging the moment, and he turns, leaving us to watch him go. Our breathing is the only sound in the quiet room. The busy chatter of themunity center drifts in from the door, a reminder of everything still spinning outside this bubble.

    Unexpectedly, Bash drops to his knees in front of me. He rests his head in myp and wraps his arms around my calves, letting out a deep, heavy sigh. I bow my head closer to his and trail my fingers through his hair. He smells like smoke and engine oil and the soft bristles against my fingertips provide afort. He grounds me.

    I breathe him in. I breathe my anxiety out.

    I breathe him in. I breathe my doubt out.

    I breathe him in. I breathe my fears out.

    Because with Bash at my side, nothing feels as terrifying.

    “I’m never going to run again, okay?” I say, hoping he understands what I mean.

    I feel his head nod against the tops of my thighs. “Good, because I’m never letting you go.”