Page 18 of One Boiling Summer (Texas Summer #15)
ASHES AND ECHOES
HUDSON
At the cemetery, I stood tall, hand wrapped tight around Lacey’s. Our fingers linked like they’d always known each other. She leaned slightly into me, her shoulder brushing mine, steady and silent. Just being here with her made everything bearable.
A few folding chairs had been set up, and half the town had turned out for the memorial because they cared.
Mama sat front and center, dabbing her eyes with a handkerchief.
Carson was beside her, Emme tucked into his side.
The other brothers stood around in jeans and boots and crisp, ironed shirts, heads bowed as we gathered to honor the two men who’d died one night—my dad, and Lacey’s.
A shared town tragedy that had never stopped rippling through this community or our families.
I stepped forward when the pastor gave me a nod. My throat tightened, but I cleared it and held my head high.
“My dad wasn’t the kind of man who needed a spotlight,” I began, voice rougher than I liked. “He was the kind of man who fixed what was broken, showed up when it mattered, and didn’t waste words. If he loved you, you knew it because he’d be the first to help you. Loyal to a fault.”
A soft ripple of murmurs moved through the crowd, as if in agreement.
“I always thought being a good man meant doing something big. Heroic. But the truth is, being good means showing up for the people you love, every day, especially when it’s hard.”
I glanced at Mama, saw the pride in her eyes. Then looked at Lacey. I gave her a wink. With any luck, the fire, the hard times, would remain behind us.
“My dad died a hero. So did Paul Andrews, Lacey’s father. The best thing I can do is to build a life and raise a family here and hope it even comes close to what they stood for. Thank you for being here today and honoring these two brave men.”
I finished and was about to step away when I was interrupted by the mayor.
“Folks,” Mayor Jones said, stepping forward. “We’re not only honoring the past today—but a man who made us proud this week. Hudson Goodson saved a fellow firefighter’s life. For that, I’m honored to present him with the town’s honorary key.”
People clapped and cheered for me. The Poppy Daily reporter took a photo of me, but I didn’t do what I did for praise. I ducked my head and made my way back to Lacey. People clapped me on the back as I moved past them.
She squeezed my arm and dabbed at a tear in her eye. “I’m so proud of you,” she whispered.
There was a long pause and people quieted down before the pastor stepped back up, letting everyone know it was time to privately pay respects.
Lacey slipped away toward the far row where her mother’s and father’s graves sat, side by side. I followed but hung back, letting her have the moment with them she deserved.
But I couldn’t stop myself from inching a little closer—just enough to hear her soft words carried on the breeze.
She knelt between the stones, fingers brushing the top edge of her mother’s name.
“Hi, Mom. I know it’s been a while. I should’ve come home sooner. I just didn’t know how to say goodbye.”
She smiled, watery and wistful.
“The house and everything in it are gone. All I have left is what’s in my heart, but thanks to your photos and Mama’s album, I got your message loud and clear about Hudson.”
Me and a message? I’d have to ask her what that’s all about.
“I came back to Poppy Valley with certain expectations. What I found is so much more and something you’d be proud of. A man who sees me. His family who loves me. And a town that’s showing me grace. I once thought I needed New York and the lights of the big city to be somebody, but I don’t.”
She paused, and I caught the hitch in her voice as she patted the top of her father’s headstone.
“I’m ready to stay. To build something real, right here. So see, this isn’t goodbye after all. It took losing everything, though, to realize what I had right in front of me was what I wanted all along.”
My chest ached in the best kind of way as she wrapped up her visit. I waited for her to join me and I wrapped her in a hug.
“Everything okay now?” I whispered in her ear.
“Yes. I made my peace.”
“Do you think they approve of me, and of us, together?”
“Oh, yes. I have no doubts.” She laced her fingers with mine and we walked hand in hand together to join the others. I wasn’t sure I believed in fate, but damn if it didn’t feel like something bigger had brought her back to me in Poppy Valley.
Eventually, we made our way to Java Co. where Lawson had promised a surprise reveal of his planned mural as a memorial to our brave firefighters.
A group had gathered near the alley, where a fresh tarp hung over a poster on display in front of the brick exterior wall that would eventually be painted. Lawson stood front and center with a proud grin, looking like he’d just landed a major art show.
“All right, y’all,” he called out. “This right here’s my way of honoring my daddy and Paul Andrews.
Been working on this with my friend Shelby.
Well, she’s not technically a muralist, but she owns the art studio over in Marigold and she’s got some real talent when she’s not drinking wine and painting sunflowers. ”
Mama arched a brow. Dawson and Grayson snickered.
Lacey leaned into me and whispered, “Shelby?”
I shrugged. “First I’ve heard of her.”
“Drumroll please,” Lawson demanded, then tugged the tarp down—and I’ll be damned. It was really good.
The sweeping mural depicted two firefighters in silhouette against a golden sunrise, one hand raised as if in farewell, very similar to a photo of Dad in Mama’s bedroom. The other walked hand in hand with a girl child. Lacey dabbed her eyes.
The mural was bold, striking, and full of heart. Man, I was so proud of Lawson. My chest burst, and my face heated, about to cry.
People clapped. Some sniffled. Even Mama dabbed at her eyes again.
Carson was the first to speak for the family. “Brother, I’d be honored to have you paint this on my building.”
Then Lawson turned to the crowd. “There’s a QR code in the corner, too. If you scan it, it links to a donation page for the county first responder fund. I figured Dad would’ve liked that better than just a statue.”
“Now that’s smart,” I said, as he made the rounds, everyone congratulating him. When he reached us, I complimented him on it.“Did you come up with that?”
“Nah,” Lawson muttered. “Shelby’s idea. She’s been the brains behind this with me.”
“Well, Shelby’s got good taste,” Lacey said, then nudged me. “Must run in the family.”
I slid my arm around her waist and squeezed. “You sayin’ I have good taste too?”
“Of course you do.” Lacey kissed me.
Mama’s voice boomed. “Best bring Shelby around for dinner sometime, Lawson.”
His cheeks turned a bright shade of red.
We all laughed and hugged. Something about seeing the mural, the way people lingered to take it in, and about this day brought everything full circle for all of us.
Later that evening, the sky turned soft for the sunset as we returned to the camper. The memorial was gratifying, good to see everyone, but it was just me and Lacey. The way I liked it.
She came out of the tiny camper bathroom wearing one of my softest T-shirts—threadbare from years of firehouse laundry machines, loose enough to hang mid-thigh.
“You sure know how to fill out a plain ol’ shirt, sweetheart.”
She rolled her eyes, but her lips curved. “You always know what to say to a girl who’s emotionally spent.”
I stepped forward and pulled her close. “I know how to say it without words, too.”
Her arms looped around my neck, and I took her mouth in a kiss that was slow. No rush. Plenty of heat.
Her fingers slipped beneath my shirt and tugged it upward. I let her take it off, and then she reached for my belt. The way her touch lingered, slow and sure, told me she didn’t just want comfort—she wanted connection.
We stumbled back toward the narrow bunkbed, a mess of laughter and kisses and tangled limbs. The camper creaked with every move.
I laid her back against the pillows, slid the shirt up her body. She was nothing but soft curves and golden skin in the glow of the bedside lamp.
“Lace,” I said, cupping her cheek. “You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”
She swallowed hard, eyes shining. “Today was a lot. Make me forget everything but us.”
I did.
With my mouth and my hands, I worshipped her until she was arching beneath me, gasping my name.
When I slid inside of her, she wrapped her legs around me and whispered, “Don’t ever leave me. Remember, you promised to be safe.”
I knew where this was coming from. I returned to work a shift tomorrow. The first one since we became “a thing.”
I vowed with my kisses like words into her skin that I’d do my duty, but always put her first.
We moved together slowly, our bodies already knowing the rhythm, the right pace, the perfect connection. We’d been together a week, but it already felt like a lifetime with her.
After, as she lay curled on top of me, her ear resting over my heart, the only way we could fit together in the bunk, she murmured, “Today was hard. But healing at the same time.”
I kissed her temple. “Good. Because I plan on giving you a thousand easy days after this one.”
And I meant every word.