The Complete Firehouse 56 Series

by Chase Jackson

  It was still me… but it was a version of myself I wasn’t used to seeing.

  I had given complete creative freedom to Vanessa, and she had turned me into a princess.

  My long black hair was woven into an intricate series of braids and twists that all joined together in a bun at the nape of my neck. Loose ringlets framed my face.

  My makeup was dewy and natural: soft smoky eyes, pale red gloss that made my lips look gently bitten, and a dusting of rosy pink blush that happened to match the exact shade that my cheeks turned whenever I thought about Brady.

  I stood up slowly from my chair in front of the mirror and I undid the sash of my pink silk robe. I took a deep breath, then I let the robe slip off my shoulders, revealing my white wedding dress underneath.

  “If you weren’t my best friend, I would totally hate you for being so perfect,” Vanessa confessed, standing by my side and admiring my reflection in the mirror.

  I turned to face Vanessa.

  “I can’t thank you enough,” I told her. “For everything. I don’t know if I would have made it here today, if it wasn’t for you…”

  “That’s what friends are for,” she shrugged.

  “Well, I owe you one.”

  “I’ll remember that when I get married,” Vanessa winked and nudged my shoulder playfully.

  Knock, knock.

  Vanessa and I both turned towards the bedroom door, and my heart started racing in my chest.

  “It’s just me, honey!” Mom called, somehow sensing my stress through the bedroom door. “Can I come in?”

  “Yes!”

  The door opened, but the woman who stepped into the room looked unrecognizable.

  She was wearing a form-fitting pale green dress that flattered all of the soft curves that had started filling out, since she got her appetite back. Her skin was radiant, and her eye sparkled with a vibrancy and life that I hadn’t seen in a long time.

  What surprised me the most was her hair. Mom had always felt self-conscious about losing her hair during treatment. Her soft silk head scarves had become a security blanket, and she continued to wear them even after completing chemo.

  I didn’t even notice the scarves anymore; they were just a part of her, the same as her eyes or nose.

  But she wasn’t wearing a scarf today. She didn’t need it anymore; her hair had grown back! Luscious, silky black coils of hair adorned her head, styled into a curly, playful pixie cut.

  “Who is this bombshell?!” Vanessa gushed, checking my mom out from head to toe.

  “What do you think?” Mom asked, blushing modestly. She absently slipped her fingers into the soft curls on her head.

  “Mom, you look… ” I choked up, and my eyes misted over with tears. “Stunning.”

  Mom’s eyes were filling with tears, too. She stared at the ceiling and fanned her eyes with her hands, trying to stop the tears before they streamed down her face.

  Vanessa’s eyes flashed between my mom and me, and then she smiled knowingly.

  “My work here is done,” she said, quickly packing up her makeup supplies and tossing them into the large canvas bag that she had brought. “I’ll give you two some privacy!”

  She slipped out of the room, leaving Mom and I alone.

  “Look at you,” Mom said, sniffling as looked me up and down. “My beautiful daughter is getting married.”

  Mom sat down on the edge of my bed, then she reached out and took both of my hands in hers.

  “I’ve dreamed about this moment for so long,” she said softly.

  “I know,” I choked. I blinked my eyes and stared up, but there was no stopping the tears that were pouring from my ducts and flooding my eyes.

  “I brought you something,” Mom said.

  She let go of my hands, and then she raised her left arm. A silver charm bracelet slipped down her thin wrist, and the delicate charms tinkled together softly.

  “Your charm bracelet.” I recognized it right away. My Mom had worn that bracelet for as long as I could remember.

  As a young girl, I had been fascinated by the assortment of charms. Every night when my mom tucked me into bed, I would beg her to tell me the story behind one of the charms. Sometimes she obliged; that’s how I had learned the story of the silver dog, the jagged rectangle shaped like the state of Connecticut, the tiny ballerina, the little snow globe…

  One night, I had wrapped my little fingers around the charm that was shaped like a diamond ring. “What about this one?” I had asked.

  Mom’s eyes had twinkled fondly. She explained that she and my father hadn’t had a lot of money when they got married. My father couldn’t afford to buy a fancy ring, so he had bought her that bracelet instead. There was only one charm on the bracelet when he presented it to her: the little silver ring. My father told her that the charm was a promise; someday, he would buy her the ring that she deserved.

  But Mom had loved the bracelet so much that she decided she didn’t want a fancy ring, after all. Instead, she told my father to fill the bracelet with charms. Every charm represented a piece of the life that they had built together, and in my mother’s eyes, that made it more meaningful and precious than a ring.

  After chemo, Mom became so frail and tiny that the bracelet would slip straight off her wrist. She stopped wearing it, and she tucked it away somewhere that it would be safe.

  “You used to love this bracelet,” Mom smiled, twisting her wrist so the charms chimed together.

  “I did,” I nodded. “I loved that it was full of stories; like a book of fairy tales.”

  “I always planned on giving you this bracelet on your wedding day,” Mom said softly. “You could wear it as your ‘something borrowed.’”

  She sighed and let her wrist fall into her lap. The charms went silent.

  “When the cancer got bad, I started to lose hope…” Mom swallowed heavily, keeping her eyes pinned on a spot on the floor. “I was worried that I might not get the chance to give you the bracelet…”

  A tear streamed down my cheek, then another one.

  “I made your father promise that no matter what happened to me, he would make sure you got this bracelet on your wedding day. Even if I wasn’t around to see you get married, I wanted you to know that you still had a part of me with you…”

  A sob broke free from my lungs, and tears poured out of my eyes. Waterproof or not, my mascara was a lost cause… but I didn’t care. I reached forward and fell into my mother’s arms, and she hugged me with all of her strength.

  Mom pulled away first. She reached for my arm and she carefully wrapped the charm bracelet around my wrist, clipping the clasp shut.

  Then she turned the bracelet around and located a charm that I didn’t recognize; a tiny silver fire hydrant.

  “I added this one for you and Brady,” she said softly, pinching the charm between her fingers. “Another story for the collection.”

  I couldn’t hold it in any longer; words were weighing heavily on the tip of my tongue, and I knew that I had to tell my mom the truth.

  “Mom,” I whispered. “I need to tell you something. I need to tell you truth about Brady and I,” I said slowly. “We--”

  “Oh honey,” Mom smiled, blinking through the tears that lined her own eyes. “You don’t need to tell me anything. I already know.”

  “You… you do?” I stammered.

  She nodded, and she held my hands again.

  “But… how?”

  “I’m your mother,” she said, still smiling. “And I’ve known Brady Hudson since he was in diapers. You’re both terrible liars.”

  “But… why didn’t you say anything?”

  “I thought about it,” Mom admitted. “But when I saw the way you looked at him, and when I saw the way he looked at you… I decided that it’d be best to let you two figure things out for yourselves.”

  I shook my head in shock, trying to process what my mom had just told me.

  “All along, you just wa
nted me to be happy,” I said finally.

  “That’s all I wanted,” Mom nodded.

  I wiped the tears from my eyes with the tips of my fingers, and I smiled from ear to ear.

  Neither of us needed to say a word; we both knew that Mom had gotten her wish. And so had I.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE | BRADY

  “Here she comes,” Josh hissed, nudging my ribs with his elbow.

  The first few chords of the Wedding March strummed through the park, and the crowd of weddings guests all stood up from their seats and turned to face the aisle.

  I was standing at the altar that had been set up in front of the Rose Garden’s ivy-covered gazebo. Josh was standing by my side, along with the rest of the Firehouse 56 crew; my best man and my groomsmen.

  I sucked in a huge breath, even though I knew it’d be knocked out of me the second I saw her. Then I raised my head and looked down the aisle, and my eyes landed on the most beautiful thing I had ever fucking seen.

  “Wow…” the word slipped right out of my lips.

  Cassidy somehow looked even more stunning in her wedding dress than she had that night I found her trying it on in front of her bedroom mirror. The white beaded lace of her dress accentuated every curve on her body, and the palette of pinks on her cheeks and lips reminded me of the color her face turned, right before I made her scream my name…

  There I was, standing at the altar, fire searing through my veins and flooding my ribcage. I was burning for every damn inch of her, inside and out. I wanted to be her forever; I wanted to spend the rest of my life being the reason that her bright green eyes sparkled and her cheeks turned pink.

  Mr. and Mrs. Laurent met Cassidy at the end of the long aisle. They stood on either side of her, hooking their arms through hers, and then they began to march towards the altar.

  Each step that she took down the aisle brought her closer to me, and I could see more of her: the lace halo of her veil, the light flashing from the silver charm bracelet on her wrist, the pale green shade that her eyes turned in the sunlight…

  Without taking my eyes off Cass, I leaned towards my brother and asked:

  “How did I get so lucky?”

  “I have no clue,” Josh whispered back. “But you better not fuck this up.”

  Cassidy’s eyes found me at the altar, and her lips wrinkled as she fought the urge to smile. She sank her teeth into her bottom lip, and my heart skipped out of my chest like a stone skipping over smooth water.

  The Wedding March ended when Cassidy and her parents reached the altar. Mr. Laurent stepped forward first, and I reached out to shake his hand. Instead, he pulled me into a hug.

  Then I turned to Mrs. Laurent.

  Her transformation was incredible. Looking at the radiant, healthy woman standing in front of me, it was hard to believe that she had been on the verge of death just a few months earlier. Her hair had grown back in thick black curls, and her eyes were bright and sharp.

  “Brady,” she reached for my hands, surprising me with the strength of her grip. “I wish your parents could see the man you’ve become. They would have both been so proud of you.”

  I couldn’t speak through the lump that had formed in the back of my throat, so I just smiled. Those words meant more to me than she could ever know.

  “And for what it’s worth,” she added, “I think they would have been pretty proud to see the lengths their son would go, just to make a sick old woman happy…”

  She smiled mysteriously and her eyes flashed knowingly. I felt my heart slam into my ribs.

  “I knew all along,” she whispered, answering the question that was racing through my head.

  Before I could say a word, she hugged me. I knew she held me for twice as long because my mother wasn’t there to hug me herself. When she let go of me, her eyes were watery with tears. She brushed them away and smiled, and then she and Mr. Laurent took their seats in the front row.

  I turned slowly towards Cassidy.

  “You ready, Ladybug?” I whispered with a smile.

  She bit her lip and nodded. Then I took my bride by the hand and led her to the altar.

  ***

  Everything was a blur after we said, “I do.” There were guests to greet and photos to pose for, and Cassidy and I didn’t have a chance to catch our breath until the fiery summer sun began to sink down over the park.

  Our guests were milling around the Rose Garden’s sprawling grassy lawn, sipping pre-reception cocktails. Waiters darted through the crowd carrying silver serving trays that were loaded with tiny snacks that looked like the gourmet equivalent of Pizza Rolls.

  Instead of joining our guests, Cassidy and I were herded into a golf cart and zipped up to the Pond House so that we could give our reception hall a quick once-over before our guests started spilling in.

  The golf cart deposited us in front of the building. I hopped out first, then offered a hand to help Cass down onto the pavement. I could feel her pulse pounding through her hand, and I pulled her close to my side as we stepped into the Pond House.

  We both had to stand still to take it all in.

  Giant glass windows overlooked the park, and the glow from the bright orange sunset poured into the reception area, drenching the brick walls and wooden floors in light.

  String lights had been wrapped around the wooden rafters of the ceiling, and thousands of tiny bulbs sparkled like stars in a night sky.

  Round tables framed the room, and in the center a rectangle had been cleared for the dance floor.

  “You knocked it out the park, Ladybug.”

  “This was all my mom,” Cassidy said as her eyes danced proudly around the reception hall. “She put all of this together.”

  My eyes landed on a table at the edge of the dance floor, where a white tiered cake was displayed.

  “But you picked the cake,” I reminded her.

  “We picked it,” she corrected me.

  My lips curled up into a smile, and with one tug I swept her off her feet and pulled her towards the table.

  The tangy sweet smell of lemon frosting hung around the cake stand. My tongue watered as I remembered how the frosting had tasted when I licked it off Cassidy’s skin.

  I swirled my finger through a fat dollop of frosting at the edge of the cake, leaving a barely visible indent in the smooth tier. Then I raised my finger to Cassidy’s lips:

  “Want a taste?”

  Her eyes pierced through me and her mouth fell open.

  “Mr. Hudson...” she muttered, “Why do you always make me do such bad things?”

  “This is nothing compared to what I’m going to make you do tonight, Mrs. Hudson,” I grunted back.

  Her eyebrow shot up, and then she wrapped her glossy lips around my finger and sucked until her tongue had cleaned away all the frosting.

  I could hear voices in the distance, and I knew it was only a matter of minutes before our guests reached the Pond House and spilled through the doors.

  I huffed a sigh and ignored the twitch in my pants as I took Cassidy’s hand and led her towards the reception hall entrance.

  Then, everything was a blur again: there were teary-eyed speeches and champagne toasts. Dinner was served and the cake was cut. After dessert, the band kicked off a set in the corner of the room and everyone flooded towards the dance floor.

  Cassidy possessed every ounce of attention in my body, and I had to make a conscious effort to remember that we had a room full of guests that we were supposed to entertain. I did my best to mingle, but my eyes always seemed to dart back to her. And when they did… I’d find her staring right back at me.

  I was standing in line at the open bar when I felt an arm sling around my neck, and Duke’s gruff voice barked:

  “Let’s go, January!”

  A couple of guys from the Firehouse 56 crew had me cornered, and they weren’t taking “no” for an answer as they corralled me towards the exit.

  Outside the sky was
dark, but the air was still hot and heavy. The guys linked their arms through mine and guided me towards the edge of the dark pond. The Pond House was directly behind us. The yellow light from the reception hall lit up the waterfront, and we could still hear the distant thumping of music pounding through the brick walls.

  Duke reached into the front of his suit jacket and extracted a flat cigar box.

  “I’ve been saving these for a special occasion,” he said as he opened the box to reveal a trio of fat brown cigars. I was almost flattered, but then he added with a snide grin: “...but then I got tired of waiting, so I figured tonight would have to do.”

  “Aww Duke, you’re making me blush,” I rolled my eyes as I took a cigar and inspected the label.

  “It’s Cuban,” Duke said, tapping the label with the knuckle of his index finger. “This is the best thing you’ll ever taste.”

  Not a fucking chance, I smirked as my mind flashed back to Cassidy and that lemon frosting.

  Duke used a cigar cutter to snip the tip off of my cigar, then he handed it back to me.

  “So how does it feel to be a married man?” Bryce asked.

  “Has the panic set in yet?” Duke added as he flicked open the lid of a Zippo lighter and used the sharp blue flame to light his cigar.

  “It feels…” I paused, considering the right word. “Right,” I decided finally. “Like this is exactly where I’m supposed to be.”

  “Hey man,” Duke shrugged, puffing out a foggy circle of white smoke. “If it makes you happy… good for you.”

  I braced myself, waiting for Duke to add a sharp insult or joke. But he didn’t. Instead, he patted me on the back and passed me the Zippo.

  “Thanks,” I said slowly, taking the lighter.

  I realized that was probably the closest thing to a compliment that Duke had ever given me, and I grinned appreciatively.

  “Umm... Brady,” Bryce suddenly said, interrupting the almost-sappy moment. “Is that your brother over there?”

  “Where?” I asked. I followed Bryce’s stare, until I detected movement along the exterior brick wall of the Pond House. That part of the building was hidden in shadows, but I could make out the faint outline of my brother’s shoulders. He was standing with his chest pressed to the wall and his back to us.