Chapter Text
Violet, who was sitting on the back bumper of the ambo, was looking at the unread text from Carver on her screen.
“Long shift. I’ll call you when I can. Miss you.”
She smiled faintly as she brushed her thumb across the screen. She missed him, too. It had been almost a month since he’d packed up and headed to Denver. The FaceTimes, quick texts, and late-night calls helped, but they weren’t the same as having him right in front of her.
“Okay,” Novak’s voice broke through her thoughts as she leaned against the ambo, arms crossed. “You’ve been staring at your phone for ten minutes. Are you okay?”
Violet sighed and tucked her phone away.
“I’m fine.”
Novak raised a brow, not buying that for a second. “Uh-huh,” she says.
“You’ve been walking around like a lovesick extra in a rom-com for a week. Every time someone mentions Carver, your face goes all soft.”
Violet gave her a look but couldn’t help the smile that tugged at her mouth. “I do not sigh constantly.”
Novak glared. “You do.”
“Okay, fine,” Violet muttered, tucking a loose strand of dark hair behind her ear. “I miss him. There. You happy?”
“Very,” Novak smirked. “Now, what are you going to do about it?”
“What am I supposed to do? He’s in Denver, I’m here, and it’s not like I can just—” She stopped mid-sentence when her partner’s grin widened.
“Oh my God,” she says, realizing where this was going.
“Yes,” she says, nodding.
“Book a flight. You’ve got forty-eight hours off after tomorrow morning. You know Pascal would let you tack on a personal day if you asked.”
“I have PIC responsibilities,” she argues.
“You have PTO,” Novak shot back without missing a beat. “I can handle being PIC while you’re out of town.”
Violet rolled her eyes, but her heart was beating faster than she expected. The thought of just showing up, of seeing the look on his face when he’d see her standing there.
She’d pushed it away because it felt impulsive, reckless, maybe a little crazy. But right now, it didn’t sound so crazy anymore.
“He might be working,” Violet said, still fighting the smile that was threatening to break through.
“Then surprise him,” Novak says as she bumps her shoulder gently. “Worst case, you get a quick trip to Denver. Best case, you knock that man off his feet by surprising him.”
“Novak.”
“What?” She shrugged. “You two are disgustingly cute. Someone’s gotta keep the rom-com alive.”
Violet shook her head and chuckled. She could already picture it, and maybe she’d been so caught up in missing him that she forgot she could do something about it.
Novak nudged her shoulder. “C’mon, Vi. For once in your life, don’t overthink it. Just go.”
Violet stared at her partner for a long moment before pulling her phone back out. “You’re insufferable,” she said.
“I know,” Novak said, walking away, but called back, “But I’m right. And you know I am.”
Violet smiled as she started to scroll through flights. Maybe this was an impulsive decision. Perhaps it was crazy. But maybe, just this once, crazy was what she needed. Maybe she just needed to surprise him.
—------
Before the sun had risen, she was standing in the middle of O’Hare Airport with a duffel bag slung over her shoulder and her boarding pass pulled up on her phone. Pascal had barely needed convincing. He’d muttered something about “making someone’s day,” and signed off on the personal day without asking any more questions.
The flight wasn’t long, but her heart beat faster with every passing minute. When the plane touched down, the Denver air hit her when she stepped out of the airport after getting her bag—crisp, clean, carrying that faint scent of pine and mountain air. She climbed into a rideshare, fingers tapping anxiously against her thigh as the car pulled away from the airport.
She’d memorized the address of his new station, and it wasn’t hard to find because it sat on a corner with a wide brick facade, big glass bay doors, and rigs inside.
It was different from 51, but it was still a firehouse, and something about it felt familiar to steady her nerves.
The driver pulled to the curb, and she stepped out with her bag on her shoulder. A couple of firefighters were milling around the bay, washing down equipment, laughing about something she couldn’t quite hear. But her pulse kicked up when she saw him.
Carver stood next to the engine, with his sleeves pushed up, a wrench in his hand, his hair a little messy from whatever they’d been working on. She froze for a second and watched him, because seeing him in person again hit her like a wave she hadn’t seen coming. It had been almost a month since she’d stood this close to him.
She cleared her throat softly, stepping into the bay. “Excuse me,” she said.
Carver straightened, turning toward the sound, expecting to see one of the guys. But when his eyes landed on her, his whole body stilled, the wrench nearly slipping out of his hand.
“Violet?” His voice was rough, lower than usual, but it sent a rush of warmth through her chest.
She couldn’t stop smiling. “Surprise.”
A couple of his crewmates exchanged quick, amused looks, and one of them muttered something that sounded suspiciously like, “Damn,” but Violet didn’t hear them, and she didn’t care to hear.
He crossed the floor in three strides, and then his hands were on her waist, lifting her off the floor and spinning her around, not caring who was watching. Her duffel slid down her arm and hit the ground, but she didn’t even bother noticing. She laughed against his shoulder.
“What—how—” he started, his breath warm against her ear. “How are you here?”
“Novak kind of bullied me into it,” she admits with a laugh. “I missed you. And I figured you could use a little surprise.”
Carver shook his head, still smiling like he couldn’t quite believe she was real. “Best surprise I’ve ever had.”
Then he kissed her right there, surrounded by the smell of soap and engine grease and the faint mountain breeze rolling through the open doors. Her fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt, and his hands held her like he wasn’t ready to let go.
When they finally pulled apart, he kept his forehead against hers, smiling softly. “You have no idea how much I needed this.”
She laughed quietly, her chest light in a way it hadn’t been for weeks. “Actually,” she said, brushing her thumb over the back of his neck, “I think I do.”
He leaned back just enough to look at her, hands still around her waist, grin stretching slowly across his face. “I’m gonna have to thank Novak for once in my life.”
“You better.”
And for the first time in a long time, everything felt right again.
—----
The night air in Denver was cooler than Violet expected, brushing against her skin as she and Carver walked the short distance from the station to where he’d parked his truck. His hand hadn’t left hers since they walked out.
“I still can’t believe you’re actually here,” Carver said, giving her hand a small squeeze as he opened the passenger door for her.
She slid in, smiling at the way his eyes kept flicking toward her like he still half-thought she’d vanish if he blinked too long. “Yeah, well, it took Novak threatening me with my PTO to get me here.”
Carver laughed softly, shutting the door and jogging around to his side. As the truck rumbled to life, she caught him sneaking another look at her. It made her chest feel warm in the best way.
The drive was quiet but comfortable. The kind of calm where every glance held more than words could. The city rolled past outside the window, and she let herself memorize every little thing about being next to him again — the way his hand rested on the console, how his thumb tapped to the rhythm of the radio, how the corner of his mouth twitched when he was trying not to smile too big.
When they finally pulled into the parking lot of a brick apartment building tucked in a quiet neighborhood, Violet turned toward him. “This is where you live now?”
“Yeah,” Carver said. “It’s not much. But it’s mine.”
She could already feel her heart tightening. Seeing where he lived made this all more real — that he was here, building something new, but still wanting her to be a part of it. He unlocked the door and gestured her inside.
The apartment was warm and lived-in. Simple, clean, not overly decorated. A dark couch sat against the wall with a couple of mismatched pillows, and a small kitchen opened up to the living room. She noticed a photo on the shelf near the TV of the two of them from the summer at Molly’s — Violet laughing with her head thrown back while Carver had his arm slung around her shoulders.
“Wow,” she said quietly, stepping further inside. “You actually put that picture up.”
Carver followed her gaze, scratching the back of his neck. “Yeah. It kinda… makes the place feel like home.”
Her chest tightened. She set her bag down, walked over to the photo, and smiled at it before turning back to him. He was watching her, not in the nervous way she remembered when they first started dating, but with this steady, certain look that made her stomach flip.
“It’s perfect,” she said softly.
Carver let out a breath and moved closer until he was standing just in front of her. “It’s better now that you’re here,” he murmured.
The closeness made everything else disappear — the weeks apart, the late-night phone calls, the missing him. His hands slid around her waist, and hers came to rest against his chest. For a long moment, they just stayed there, quietly taking each other in.
“I really missed you,” she whispered.
Carver leaned his forehead against hers. “Yeah,” he breathed. “Me too.”
She laughed softly against him. “You know, I was nervous about this. About showing up. What if you were busy, or what if it felt different…”
“It doesn’t,” Carver cut in gently, his voice steady. “It feels exactly how it’s supposed to.”
She tilted her head up, brushing her lips against his, and the kiss was slow. When they finally pulled away, she noticed something she hadn’t before: one of his shirts was hanging over a chair, a coffee mug she recognized sat on the counter — the one she’d left at his place back in Chicago.
“You kept my mug,” she said, smiling as she pointed to it.
He followed her eyes and chuckled. “Of course I did.”
She laughed, shaking her head, but the truth of it wrapped around her heart. He hadn’t left everything behind.
Carver reached for her hand again. “Come here. I want to show you the view.”
She followed him to the balcony where the city spread out below, quiet and dotted with lights, mountains faint in the distance. He stood behind her, his arms around her waist, his chin resting on her shoulder.
“Not bad, huh?” he said softly.
She leaned back into him. “It’s beautiful.”
And for the first time since he left Chicago, she felt something settle in her — not like she was losing him to another city, but like they’d just started writing the next part of their story.
—----
The sunlight spilled in through the blinds and brushed across her face. For a moment, she didn’t open her eyes. Instead, she just listened to the faint hum of traffic in the distance, the creak of old pipes in the walls, and the quiet rhythm of Carver’s breathing beside her.
She turned her head, a lazy smile forming when she saw him, still half-asleep, and his arm draped around her waist as his rippled, bare, and very muscular chest rose and fell against her back. She shifted a little, and his arm instinctively tightened, pulling her closer to him.
“Mm… don’t move,” he muttered into the pillow, voice low and rough with sleep.
She tried hiding a laugh. “You know, most people say ‘good morning’ first.”
Carver cracked one eye open, sleep-soft and boyish in a way that made her heart skip every time she saw it. “Good morning,” he mumbled before burying his face in her shoulder. She let out a contented sigh, running her fingers through his hair.
“I like this,” she whispered. “Waking up with you again.”
“Yeah,” he said quietly, lifting his head to meet her eyes. “I like it too. A lot.”
Eventually, she rolled onto her back, her dark hair a messy halo against the pillow. “So this is what mornings in Denver look like?”
Carver propped himself onto one elbow, watching her with a grin that made her stomach flutter. “Pretty much. Except they’re better now.”
She laughed softly. The honesty in his voice settled deep inside her chest. “Smooth, Carver,” she teased.
He leaned over and kissed her. “Smooth’s my middle name,” he says, breaking the kiss.
When they got out of bed, Violet wandered barefoot into the kitchen, wearing his shirt that fell just below her knees, while Carver rummaged in a cabinet.
She spotted the familiar mug sitting by the coffee maker, so she grabbed it and turned back to look at Carver. “I’m claiming this while I’m here.”
Carver looked over his shoulder and smirked. “I figured you would. It’s fair that way.”
As the coffee brewed, she jumped onto the kitchen counter and watched him move around the kitchen, cooking breakfast. He looked relaxed in a way she hadn’t seen in months, and it made something in her chest ache, but in a good way.
“You look happy here,” she says softly.
He looked at her, putting the spatula down. “Yeah,” he says after a beat. “I feel good here.”
Then his voice shifted, quieter, more deliberate. “You know, when I first got here, it wasn’t like that. I was trying to keep it together, but I was all over the place. New city, new station, no familiar faces… It was hard.”
Violet’s chest ached at the honesty in his voice. She knew the battle he’d fought for his sobriety back in Chicago, the nights when he’d admitted how close the edge sometimes felt.
“I almost thought about running,” he said, eyes fixed on the ground. “Everything felt loud in my head again. Like it used to.”
Violet jumped off the counter and stepped closer to him, gently resting her hand on his arm. He didn’t flinch away.
“But I didn’t,” he added softly. “I stuck with the meetings. Found a sponsor here. I stopped trying to do it alone. And now…” He lifted his gaze to hers. “Now, when I wake up, it doesn’t feel like I’m fighting myself every second of the day.”
Her throat tightened a little. “I’m really glad you told me that,” she whispered. “And I’m even more proud of you.”
Carver exhaled slowly, like he’d been holding that truth inside for too long. “I wanted you to know where I’m at.”
“You’ve come a long way,” she said, her voice steady and sure. She slid her arms around him, holding on, not because he needed saving, but because he’d saved himself and let her be part of the climb after he got out of the hole.
He hugged her back, pressing his forehead against hers. “Having you here… it makes it feel even more real. Like I’m not just getting by. Like I’m actually living.”
Her heart squeezed. She tilted her chin up and kissed him, slow and warm, tasting coffee and sunlight and everything they’d fought to hold onto.
A little while later, they ended up on the balcony with their mugs in hand after eating breakfast, the city stretching out below them. Violet leaned against his shoulder, breathing in the crisp morning air.
“I don’t want to think about going back yet,” she whispered.
“Then don’t,” Carver said, resting his chin against her head. “Just stay here with me for a while.”
—----
“Come on,” he said, tugging her gently toward the door. “I want to show you around a little. Give you a sense of my new city.”
Violet followed, curious and eager. The Denver air was sharp and clear, the sun warm on her back as they walked along quiet streets, the distant mountains framing the skyline. Carver pointed out little details along the way: a corner café where he sometimes grabbed breakfast before his shifts, a small bookshop tucked between two brick buildings, and the park where he jogged to clear his head.
“It’s weird,” Violet said as they paused near the park, the city stretching out below the foothills. “Seeing all these little pieces of your life here… it makes everything feel more real.”
Carver nodded, leaning casually against a railing, eyes soft. “Yeah. It’s been a journey, you know? Leaving Chicago… leaving 51… I thought I’d feel like I was running from something, but it’s not that. It’s about building something new. Something I can be proud of.”
Violet reached for his hand, squeezing it. “And are you?”
He smiled faintly. “I am. Some days are harder than others. Adjusting, learning the people here, keeping up with my sobriety — that’s always a constant, making sure I don’t slip. But… I’m doing it. I feel more like myself than I have in a long time.”
“You’ve changed,” she said softly, brushing a hand over his cheek. “Not just moved cities, but… grown. And I’m so proud of you.”
Carver’s grin softened, eyes meeting hers with a mixture of relief and affection. “I couldn’t have done it without knowing people cared. You, Violet. You kept me grounded, even when I wasn’t here. And having you here now… It’s like I can breathe without the weight of everything else on my shoulders.”
They wandered through the park, watching a dog chase after a frisbee, laughing about the small things, and every so often, he’d pull her closer to him, letting a hand rest against the small of her back.
At the edge of the park, they stopped to take in the view of the city. “This,” he said quietly, “this is my home now. And having you here… makes it feel complete.”
Violet rested her head against him, her heart full. “I like it here,” she whispered. “Because you’re here.”
He pressed a soft kiss to her temple, his hand tightening on hers. “And I’m not letting you leave anytime soon.”
—------
The small Denver apartment was quiet that morning, sunlight spilling across the floor as Violet tugged her bag closed, zipping it carefully. She’d spent two full days with Carver, exploring the city, walks through the park, and laughing over late-night takeout in his kitchen.
She’d felt at home, like she’d stepped into a world that wasn’t hers, but somehow had always been waiting for her.
Carver leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, watching her pack her bags. “Two days,” he said quietly, voice low, “wasn’t enough.”
Violet turned to face him. “I know,” she admitted, smiling despite the ache in her chest. “It wasn’t nearly enough for me either.”
He pushed off the doorframe and came closer, letting his hand brush hers. “I don’t want you to go.”
She laughed softly and leaned into him. “Sam… I’ve got to get back to Chicago. There are shifts, calls, Pascal breathing down my neck, and you know… 51 misses me too.”
He shook his head, jaw tight, and she could see the longing in his eyes. “Do you have to?”
She cupped his face in her hands, her thumb brushing across his cheek. “I do. But hey,” she said, her smile gentle, “that doesn’t mean you can’t come back to Chicago sometime. You haven’t seen everyone in a while, and I promise they’ve been missing you, too.”
His expression softened, a slow smile creeping across his face, thinking about how good it’d be to see everyone in Chicago again after being gone for so long. “I’d like that,” he said quietly. “I’d really like that.”
She got on her tiptoes and kissed him. “See?” she teased lightly. “It’s not goodbye. Just… see you soon.”
He laughed softly. “See you soon,” he repeated, swallowing the lump in his throat. “Two days… not enough, but I’ll take what I can get for now.”
They walked to the door together, their hands intertwined until the last possible second, neither wanting to let go. Violet finally hoisted her bag onto her shoulder and gave him one last lingering kiss.
“I’ll call you the second I land,” she promised.
“I’ll be waiting,” he said, voice steady. “And I’ll be counting the days until I can see you again.”
She smiled, stepping back and giving him one more look before turning toward the elevator. “Good. Then I’ll see you soon, Carver.”
As she disappeared down the hallway, he lingered in the doorway, watching her go, a mixture of longing and hope in his chest. Denver had become home, but for the first time in a long time, he realized Chicago and Violet would always pull him back, no matter how far he went.
And Violet, who was flying back toward the city she loved, felt it too. The two days they had weren’t enough, but it was the beginning of something that didn’t have to end, no matter the distance there was between them.
They would always make it work. No matter what the circumstances were.