I moved to this sleepy town with one rule: keep my autistic son safe and my heart locked in a lead box.
Then the fire alarm went off on day one and three ridiculously hot firefighters kicked the box wide open.
Tate knelt in a closet and offered my terrified kid his helmet like it was the most natural thing in the world.Wes growled at the entire school like a tattooed guard dog.Dean looked at my chaotic life, ran the numbers, and decided we were worth keeping.
Now I’ve got three possessive firefighters showing up with takeout, chrome-polishing Saturdays, and enough “you’re ours” energy to power the whole station.
I’m supposed to be the guarded single mom who doesn’t need saving.Instead I’m the one getting ruined in candlelight while they argue over who gets to hold me after.
They say they’re not going anywhere.I’m starting to believe them… and that might be the scariest thing of all.
