Love's Second Save

I remembered he was a Smokejumper. A special unit of elite firefighters based in Mo

ked past my shiny tour bus, and got into my old Ford Bronco.

. The rolling green hills of Tennessee gave way to the flat plains, and then, finall

beer from a local brewery, thick-cut ribeye steaks, sausages, and a dozen bags of char

gs at the edge of an airfield, surrounded by dense pine

elp you,

sturing to the back of my truck with my thumb.

his eyes widening. "Whoa. Oka

and a name tag that read 'Johnson' walked out. He took on

nroe. My daughter is going to l

show my appreciation," I s

ed, waving a few guys over. "Boys! Look

eaks out of my Bronco, laughing and joking. I scanned their faces, my heart pounding. I didn'

I saw

r than the others, with the same quiet, solid presence I remembered. His dark hair was short,

in his eyes, foll

evous grin, slapped him on the back. "Sull

shot the guy a death glare t

ke, man! She' s really here! Y

is pocket, holding it up for me to see. "Ma' am, you have

und. It was a picture o

ontrast to his otherwise stern expression. He snat

ow rumble. He wouldn' t look at me. He just stood t

hey' re a bunch of animals. Sully' s a good man. Just a little shy." He t

om the bridge, were wide with a mix of embarrassment and s

formal and tight. "Welcome to the b

d seeing him alive, healthy, and so flustered,

going t