LOGINAt least he is putting Bia in her place when and how he can. Too bad he can't manage that with Kearns.
The mansion smelled like winter and nerves, polish, perfume, and the faint sweetness of whatever humans put on their faces when they’re trying not to cry. I’d been on patrol since sunrise. Big day. The biggest day, apparently. The one where my humans promised forever. Which, if you asked me, they’d already been doing. But humans liked ceremony. And cake. I started my rounds where the most noise came from, Carolina’s room. She sat in front of a mirror that sparkled like ice, her hair twisted and pinned with tiny gold leaves, her white dress spilling around her like a snowdrift. Her mother fussed with her veil while her father tried not to cry. The air buzzed with Portuguese words that rolled like music, soft and quick and warm. I hopped onto a chair, earning a chorus of “aw, olha o Goose!” from the women. Cássia, her maid of honor, was a whirlwind of perfume and laughter, waving a makeup brush like a wand. “Don’t start crying now, menina,” she warned Carolina, patting her cheek. “Yo
The diner smelled like coffee, cinnamon, and nostalgia. Marta’s Place hadn’t changed a damn thing since the night Carolina and I came here on our first real date. The same hand-painted snowflakes clung to the windows. The same old Christmas records crackled through the speakers. Even the same waitress, Marta’s niece, Josie, gave me a knowing grin as she wiped down the counter and called, “Table by the window, sugar?” “Yeah,” I said, clearing my throat as I adjusted the collar of my button-down for what felt like the hundredth time. “Thanks.” The booth’s vinyl squeaked as I sat, the sound echoing through the near-empty diner. Outside, the streets glowed with the same kind of soft, cold magic as last year. It had been one hell of a year, fires, fights, a few near-death experiences, and the kind of love I’d never thought I’d deserve. And somehow, through all of it, Carolina stayed. My palms were sweating like I was back at my rookie exam. Which made no sense. I’d faced infernos hotter
The morning sunlight spilled through the blinds in lazy stripes, catching dust motes and Goose’s orange fur as he sprawled across my notes like he owned them, which, technically, he did. My nerves were already humming, but his purr rumbled like a metronome, steady and smug. “Goose,” I groaned, trying to slide my notebook out from under him without losing a page. “That’s not your spot.” He blinked at me, slow and unimpressed, and stretched his paw to cover the rest of the notebook. Ace’s voice floated from the kitchen, where he was probably already halfway through his second cup of coffee. “He’s just keeping you humble.” I rolled my eyes, grinning despite myself. “You’re encouraging bad behavior, firefighter.” “Hey, the cat’s got good taste,” he said, leaning against the doorway with his mug in hand and that stupidly soft morning smile. “Besides, you’ll thank him later when you’re not overthinking every line in your speech.” “I am not overthinking.” He raised an eyebrow.
The drive to Millburn felt like cruising straight into controlled chaos, emphasis on controlled. Carolina sat beside me in the passenger seat, bundled in her cream coat, hands wrapped tight around the paper cup of coffee I’d grabbed for her on the way. Her eyes kept flicking toward me and then the glowing lights in the distance, like she wasn’t sure whether she wanted to smile or bolt. “You sure your family’s ready for this?” she asked, her accent curling around the words in that soft way that made them sound like music. I glanced at her, trying not to laugh. “Carolina, they’ve been ready since the second I mentioned you. My mom’s probably already made a sign or something.” She groaned and dropped her head into her hands. “A sign?” “Okay, maybe not an actual sign,” I admitted, grinning. “But definitely a speech. And possibly a threat if I screw this up.” That got a laugh out of her, exactly what I’d been going for. I reached across the console and took her hand, squeezing it. “It’
The first thing I felt when I woke up was warmth. Not the kind that came from the heater sputtering across the room, but the quiet, steady kind that came from being wrapped in Ace’s arms. His breathing was slow and even, the weight of his arm, his good one, draped around my waist. The faint glow of Christmas lights blinked against the wall, washing the room in soft gold and red. For a second, everything felt still. Safe. Like the world had finally stopped spinning long enough for me to catch my breath. Then my phone started buzzing. It started as a faint vibration under the pillow, then another, then another. I groaned, trying to ignore it. Ace shifted behind me, murmuring something half-asleep and pressing his face into my hair. I smiled despite the noise, but when the buzzing didn’t stop, curiosity got the better of me. I reached over, fumbling for the phone on the nightstand. Thirty-seven unread messages. “Sweet baby Jesus,” I muttered under my breath. Ace made a sleepy noise t
The second the door clicked shut behind Carolina, I knew something had shifted. I could easily smell the moods of humans. The apartment smelled strange tonight, like hospital soap and winter air, with a sharp trace of smoke still clinging to Ace and something softer, salt and worry, clinging to her. It wasn’t bad. Just heavy. The kind of scent that told me my humans needed supervision. Ace moved more slowly than usual, his shoulders stiff, his right arm tucked in that weird fabric wrap that smelled like antiseptic. He tried to play it off, acting like the sling was no big deal, but even I could tell he was hurting. He always did that, pretending he was made of stone when he was really more like my scratching post: solid until someone pushed too hard. Carolina, though, looked worse. Her shoulders drooped, her hair messy from running fingers through it too many times. She had her big overnight bag hanging from one arm and her heart hanging off the other. She closed the door softly, l







