“The dog run for my new puppy…” I say, a pleading note in my voice. “Because one screaming little animal in this house is not enough.”

  “Hey.” Vito pretends to be hurt. “I’m not a little animal. I’m full-sized.”

  I tuck my forehead against the stubble growing along his neck. “Some things about you are definitely full-sized.” I lower my hand to cup his butt cheek through his PJs. “And this too.” I slide a hand between us to stroke his growing erection.

  He groans, deep and low in his throat. “Baby,” he hisses. “You’re getting me excited in a whole different kind of way.”

  “Is that a bad thing?” I ask, pressing my fingertips lightly along the front of the drawstring and lower. His cock responds to my closeness. I press my full breasts against his bare chest and reach back around to grab his ass.

  “Fuck,” he sighs. “This is reason enough to go back to bed. You with me?”

  “First one upstairs has to get the condom,” I tell him.

  “Has to?” He turns and faces me, then he playfully shoves me away from him, turning and dashing through the house, headed for the stairs.

  I laugh and follow after him, keeping my footsteps light so we don’t wake the baby. Nothing blocks grown-up time like a toddler awake before dawn.

  By the time I get upstairs, Vito is sitting on the bed, his pajama pants off and a foil square tucked between two fingers. He’s grinning like he’s won a race.

  “You’re so competitive,” I tease, turning so he can see my ass as I shimmy out of my bottoms. He sucks in a breath as I bend deep, step out of the sleepwear, and then turn back to face him.

  “I’ve got three siblings,” he says. “It’s in my blood.”

  I smirk as I turn around and let him watch as I ease my super loose top over my shoulders. “I was an only child,” I remind him. “I’m okay letting you win.”

  “Silly woman,” he breathes. “You’re the prize.”

  He watches me, his eyes dark and his lips parted as I climb onto the bed. I straddle his legs and climb all the way up his body until I’m just above his cock. I settle lightly against his erection, letting the heat of my pussy press into his length.

  He sucks in a deep breath and closes his eyes, but then he drops the condom on the sheet so he can hold my breasts in his hands. “These,” he groans. “I could lose myself in them.”

  He holds the weight of me in his hands and squeezes lightly. The gentle pressure sends waves of desire through my body, my pussy growing even wetter in anticipation.

  “More,” I tell him, grabbing hold of his shoulders. I reach for the condom and tear it open, but just before I slide the latex over his flesh, I climb off his lap and kneel over his cock. “Touch me,” I tell him as I open my mouth and flick my tongue over the head of his dick.

  He growls deep in his chest, muttering thankful curses as I take him all the way into my mouth, lapping my tongue against him to make sure he’s nice and wet before I roll on the condom.

  He caresses my breasts softly as I suck him, until finally he’s humming, and I know if I want to keep things going, I’m going to need to sheathe him up.

  Once he’s wearing the condom, I climb back over him and roll my hips back and forth along his length. He’s not even inside me yet, but our pace is frantic and fast. I feel the thick muscles and soft hairs of his thighs between my legs, and I have to grip his shoulders for support.

  He pinches my nipples in his fingertips, and I am close to losing it. I nearly cry out, the pleasure is so, so good. But then I lean forward and practically feed him my nipple.

  He sucks the tip deep between his lips, the pleasure radiating through my chest and limbs. I am lost to the sweet, golden heat when he removes my nipple from his mouth and rolls his neck in circles while pressing my tender nipple against the stubble of his chin. I chase the ecstasy, rocking my hips against him while I throw my head back and let him work his magic.

  I don’t know how he does it because my eyes are slammed shut, but I feel him shove a hand between us. I lift my weight a little, but goddamn, my legs are so weak I can hardly support my weight. Then he shifts his erection, and I slide all the way down, crying out for real as his length reaches deep inside me.

  “Fuck, I love you. I love this. I love you more, but fuck,” he groans.

  I can’t speak. I’m lost to the colors swirling behind my eyes, to the burn in my thighs as I grind deeper, pressing my weight so every roll of my hips brings wave after wave of bliss through my body.

  Once I slow my movements, sweat misting along my hairline, Vito lifts me off his cock and lays me on my back.

  He immediately grabs my thighs in his hands and spreads me wide.

  I’m boneless, opening to him so he can see, touch, and taste every inch of my most private parts. He drops his mouth to my pussy.

  “Fuck, you taste good,” he grits out when he stops to suck in a chest full of air. “You have the sweetest pussy.”

  He pulls his mouth back and trails his fingertips along the insides of my thighs. He nibbles and kisses his way from my pubic bone to my right knee, then turns to pay the same attention to my left leg. I’m completely naked, my tits sagging on either side of my chest, my hair sweaty and matted against the sheets, and yet with his hands on my body, I feel like the most beautiful woman alive.

  I curl my toes and try to sit up, but Vito shakes his head and massages the tight muscles in my legs. “I want to devour you,” he says, pressing my legs open wider. He situates himself between my open legs and nudges my opening with his cock, murmuring, “You’re the most gorgeous fucking woman alive.”

  I open my eyes a crack and smile at him, but then I immediately slam my lids shut when Vito thrusts inside me.

  I try to relax my legs and take the full pressure of every deep thrust inside me, but he’s grabbing my legs and closing them together like a clothespin in front of his chest. I try to hold up the weight of my legs, but Vito’s cock all the way inside me while my legs are together, my feet in the air, it’s more than I can take. I cry out his name as yet another climax steals the strength from my limbs.

  He patiently waits until my fingers loosen from the sheets to flip me onto my belly. I lift my butt in the air, but I can’t even control my hands and legs. I need Vito to help lift my hips so he can fuck me from behind.

  He slaps the side of my ass, the slap so loud I worry it will wake up Juniper, but honestly, it’s worth it. When he finishes, he collapses on top of me, our sweaty bodies sticking together.

  “That was freaking…” I can’t even finish the thought. I squint at the clock and see that we have plenty of time to go back to sleep. The coffeepot has a four-hour safety shut-off, so I don’t have to do anything or worry about anything until Juniper is awake.

  I think Vito is thinking the same thing because with a numb little grunt, he jerks the sheets up off the bed and tucks them in around us. He settles himself halfway on top of me, his face smashed against my right breast, while his leg is thrown over my right thigh.

  “Love you,” he says. “Sorry if I drooled on you a little just then.”

  I laugh as much as I can pinned beneath his weight, and I snake my fingers through his hair. “Love you,” I whisper.

  My mind is at ease. My heart is happy. If I thought buying this house was a dream come true, I know now that home ownership doesn’t even come close to what I feel when I’m with this man.

  This competitive, silly, real, firefighting Bianchi. I fall asleep with a smile on my face and the man I love literally on my heart.

  “Holy fucking…” Gracie Bianchi—now Cooper—wanders through my new house with her son Ethan on her hip and her mouth wide open. She lifts a perfectly arched black brow at me. “Babe, when you said you bought a house, I was expecting a starter home. This?” She sweeps her hand around the wide-open living room.

  My head is spinning right now. Gracie offered to watch Juniper while I go in for my first day of orientation, and I have barely had enough coffee.

  Vito has been on the last two nights, so I haven’t slept well. That’s becoming a real thing now that I know he plans to move in. But since he hasn’t told his parents yet, I can’t spill the news to Gracie.

  “Hey.” Gracie’s voice is soft as she sets Ethan down on the playmat. He’s just about Junie’s age, and he immediately waddles, then drops to a crawl to take a toy from Junie’s hand.

  “Eden?” Gracie waves a heavily tattooed hand in my face. “Hey, girl. You look like you want to start crying. You know Junie’s going to be just fine with me and Ethan, right?”

  I nod and swallow hard against the emotions. “Yeah, of course. I’m really happy you’re here. Thank you for agreeing to watch her.”

  “It’s a lot, though. Going back to work.” She nods at Ethan’s dark brown ringlets of hair. “You got any coffee going?”

  I shake my head. “I was up early and finished a pot. I haven’t been sleeping.”

  Gracie nods, her long black hair grazing her shoulders. Somehow, she looks effortlessly cool in an oversized, shredded concert T-shirt with a tank top underneath it and black jeans. She took her shoes off at the door, of course, and is barefoot. Even her black toenail polish looks perfect.

  “How do you do it?” I ask. I drop down onto the floor beside the kids and cross my legs. “I don’t think I’ve painted my toenails since before I got pregnant.”

  Gracie looks at me, her beautiful eyes rimmed with thick, winged liner. “Girl, I have Ryder. I couldn’t do it without him.”

  I peek at the time on my watch and reassure myself I’m okay. It’s only nine, and Michelle said I could stop by this morning for the hiring paperwork and a basic orientation. I figure a few minutes with Gracie is time well spent, because I have no one else in my life I can ask pressing questions. “Was postpartum hard for you?”

  Gracie widens her eyes and shakes her head dramatically. “I was still adjusting to being a stepmom to two fully formed humans when this one came along.” She jerks a thumb at her son. “I had some infertility issues before I conceived, and I thought the hardest part of all of this was going to be getting pregnant.” She plops down on the floor beside me and tucks her feet under her butt.

  “It wasn’t?” I ask.

  “Hell no.” She picks at an invisible thread on her tee and shrugs. “I have a big personality.” She flicks me a glance as if ready to fight me over the statement, but I just grin. “Ryder gave up his stable job teaching just before Ethan was born. He went to work for a start-up with his best friend, so he was putting in long hours. He cut back once the baby was born, of course, but I fell into a funk for sure. I’m not the kind of person who gets sad, though. I mean, I feel the feelings, but I tend to either go quiet or I get angry. You can probably guess how hard it was to be quiet with a newborn, two children, and a husband who was pulled in twenty directions.”

  I listen to her experience and can’t imagine. I know how hard it was to do everything myself, but to multiply the responsibilities, to have a partner who was out of his routine, and to battle postpartum depression? I reach out a hand and squeeze her shoulder. “Gracie,” I say. “How did you manage?”

  She chuckles. “I drew a lot. In fact, that’s one of the things that got me through. I leaned in to the one thing that has always been there for me. My art. I would swaddle the baby against my chest and sit the older kids down, and we would make art for hours.” She waves a hand. “I wish our house was this big because, let me tell you, two kids and a professional tattoo artist can make a big old mess.”

  It dawns on me then that Gracie has this huge family. Where were they when she was going through all of this? “I’m surprised your mom wasn’t constantly helping,” I say, hoping I chose the right words.

  “Girl, I had to kick my mother to the curb constantly. She’d have raised those kids if I’d let her.” She lifts a perfect brow at me and points right at my chest. “You need to set boundaries with Lucia, because I’m telling you. Ma is all heart, and she’s eyeballs-deep in good intentions, but she has no filter sometimes. So, if she’s showing up day after day, offering to help, you take what you need. I love them to the moon and back. But I’ve been worried they’ve been making things too easy on my brother.”

  She grows quiet and looks at me.

  “I’m about to spill some tea, so I sure hope you two are serious.”

  I smile and nod, but I don’t say anything more. I don’t want to speak behind Vito’s back, but at the same time, I want to get to know Gracie better.

  “So, here’s the deal about my brother. Ah, crap.” Gracie wrinkles her nose and leans in to sniff Juniper’s butt. “Not yours,” she says. “That means it’s mine.”

  She jumps up and grabs her diaper bag, which looks more like a giant metallic-gray purse than a diaper bag. “You mind if I do this here?” she asks. “Or do you prefer the bathroom?”

  “Wherever you want.”

  She nods and pulls out a changing pad and bribes Ethan to stop playing by giving him a new toy. “I’ll just say this,” she says. “Divorce does funny things to some people, and Vito’s did a number on him. He’s spent five years of his adult life living with our parents. Don’t get me wrong. After I went through some shit, I moved back in with Lucia and Mario too. But he’s been there five years, and if you ask me, he’s let himself get too comfortable. Maybe he’s comfortable staying in the nest because he has no idea what direction to go if he tries to fly on his own.”

  Gracie stands Ethan up and lets him go play with Juniper. She’s wadded up the diaper and wiped down the changing pad. “Where do you want this?”

  I show her the way and then stay with the kids while she heads back into the powder room to wash her hands. When she comes back, she points to her wrist. She doesn’t wear a watch, but I do, and I check the time.

  “You probably need to get dressed?” she asks.

  I nod, reluctant to get up. I could spend the whole day here with Gracie, Ethan, and Juniper.

  Maybe Vito and I aren’t that different. I’m not sure I want to leave my nest now that it’s time to go.

  “Nervous?” Gracie asks. “Going back to work after being home with these sweet cheeks all day is tough,” she says. “But give Michelle a try. It’s bananas thinking that she’s now a financial adviser, but…” Gracie shrugs. “She was always good people. Vito is good people.” She grins at me, her thick red lipstick perfectly coating her full lips. “You’re good people. And it’s never too late to try something new, you know?”

  I give her a smile and make sure she knows where to find everything. I tell Gracie to make herself completely at home and show her how to turn on the television.

  “All I care about is getting out in the yard,” she says. “Come on, kiddos. Let’s get sweaters. We’re going to tire out some toddlers.”

  I head upstairs to take a quick shower, all thoughts of making another pot of coffee long gone. I’m sure if she wants it, Gracie will help herself. After all, she’s practically family. And I intend to start treating her like it.

  17

  Vito

  The last three days of my life have been like so many others over the years. You’d think every one of the horrible accidents or fires might be some of the worst or hardest shit I’d ever been through—until the next one.

  I’m fortunate, working in a small town. We have a lot less of this stuff than bigger cities. This stuff being the calls that you feel under your skin. The sounds that lock in your ears and you don’t know how you’ll ever stop hearing them.

  And yet, time passes.

  The intensity of whatever the shit was eases. A little. Then a little more. Sometimes I wake up with my heart racing after a nightmare that brings just one small detail back, and that triggers a whole lot of memories. Emotions.

  But still, this is the job. I may not like what it does to me, but I love what I do on calls like the ones we had this shift. It takes guts and teamwork to survive the day. It takes training, experience, and maturity to survive the aftermath.

  When you get so close to other people’s worst moments, worst days, it steals a little of the light from yours.

  That’s the trade-off.

  When you hold the hand of the dying, you willingly give up a little part of the wholeness that makes you alive.

  I did that and more today. And I’m fucking ready to go home and let the long, slow process of dealing with it all start.

  My shift is over, and I’ve changed and showered. The mood is intense. The silence among the guys in my engine company is as overpowering and dense as smoke.

  I grab my bag and keys and stand on shaky knees, ready to haul ass out of there, when Chief joins us.

  His eyes carry the weight of what we’re all feeling. I know he’s been filling out a ton of paperwork and working on scheduling a critical incident debriefing. That means he’s not able to pack what we saw into a tiny box until the intensity fades like the sun hiding behind a cloud. He’s had to stare right into that blinding light for longer than any of us.

  “Tomorrow,” Chief says quietly. No one needs to ask what he means. “Three p.m. sharp. I’m trying to get someone out from Columbus to do a second session for anyone who needs it. This is mandatory.”

  I nod and brush past the chief, ready to get the fuck out of here. The chief stops me with a hand on my shoulder. “Good work today. Leadership like that made a difference.”

  “Thanks.” The words feel like wool in my mouth. None of what I did today made a bit of difference to the outcome.

  I did my best. We all did.

  I get out to my truck, and fresh morning air hits my face. I breathe it in, the smells of the call we finished overnight still thick in my nose. I shake my head.

  There’s no residue. I followed all the protocols. Wore all the gear. Washed away any traces of what happened, but there are some stains that never, ever go away.

  This is the part of the job that isn’t glamorous. That isn’t fun.