Page 119 of Knotting the Firefighters

"Plus, Calder still needs to return to LA for his position! That captain rank he's earned, the station he's supposed to command, the career he's been building—we can't just ignore that because of impulsive bonding! And what about the kittens?! Ember, Ash, Cinder, and Spark need consistent care and attention, and Blaze requires training and proper diet and?—"

Hands grip my shoulders—firm but gentle, stopping my frantic pacing mid-step.

Silas stands before me, honey-eucalyptus scent suddenly overwhelming, his expression carrying professional calm that's probably reserved for patients experiencing medical crises.

"Breathe," he commands quietly, authority cutting through panic with surgical precision. "Before you hyperventilate yourself into unconsciousness, and I have to handle another medical situation involving your stubborn refusal to acknowledge physical limitations."

Breathe.

Right.

Breathing is good.

Necessary for continued consciousness.

I attempt to follow instructions, drawing air into lungs that feel too tight, exhaling with shaky control that suggests my respiratory system is on strike.

"How are you NOT panicking?!" The question emerges louder than intended, disbelief evident in every syllable.

I look around at all four of them—Bear still emanating amusement, Silas maintaining professional composure, Calder radiating satisfaction, Aidric broadcasting murderous intentions.

"Why is everyone so damn calm? We just accidentally created permanent pack bonds! This is catastrophic! This is life-altering! This is?—"

Bear's chuckle interrupts my building tirade, a warm sound that shouldn't be this soothing given the circumstances.

"Aidric and Calder already duked it out with arguments," he explains with a casual air of someone discussing the weather. "Verbal warfare lasting approximately two hours. They're probably exhausted from screaming at each other, which explains the current peaceful state."

Two hours of arguing.

While I was unconscious.

They've had time to process, while I'm just now learning about this.

"IN THE BEDROOM?!" My shriek returns full force, outrage mixing with something that feels suspiciously like disappointment. "WITHOUT ME?!"

"NO!" Both Calder and Aidric respond simultaneously, unified denial delivered with enough force to rattle windows.

I can't help the giggle that escapes—slightly hysterical but genuine, the absurdity of the situation momentarily overriding panic.

"Good," I declare with false brightness. "Because if you're going to engage in heated arguments that might evolve into hate-sex, I want front-row seats for the entertainment."

Did I just say that out loud?

Yes.

Yes, I absolutely did.

No taking it back now.

"That's never going to happen," Calder states firmly, though his expression suggests he's entertained by my suggestion.

"Never," Aidric echoes with equal conviction, disgust evident in his tone.

"Okay," I concede with exaggerated cheerfulness, "butifit does happen…and I maintain that the sexual tension between you two could power small cities…you're taking me on a nice date first. Like, a romantic dinner on a mountaintop or something equally cinematic.”

Why am I negotiating terms for their hypothetical relationship?

Why is this my coping mechanism?