Bailey (Angel Institute #3)

Chapter 21

Twenty-One

BAILEY

T he crisp winter air nips at my cheeks as I climb aboard the gleaming red fire truck, my arms laden with brightly wrapped gifts. The scent of pine wafts from the packages, mingling with the metallic tang of the truck and the faint aroma of smoke that seems to cling permanently to the firefighters’ uniforms. Half the crew climbs into the truck. It’s a tight fit, but they’ve given me the front seat so I can be close to Logan.

I wrinkle my nose. “Did you spritz these packages with your pine spray?” I ask Logan.

He smells his hands. “It must be in my skin. I can’t seem to get rid of it.”

I giggle. “If it wasn’t so weird, it would be a superpower.”

“His only superpower is convincing you to date him,” Axel says as he climbs into the back seat.

I laugh. “Wanna borrow some of that to work on Olivia?” I tease, testing the waters.

Axel clamps his jaw shut and looks out the window. Ooo . Not quite what I was expecting, but even better.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” I wink at him and turn around in my seat. “Hey Axel,” I call out, a mischievous grin spreading across my face. “Still sore about losing the Ice Tug-of-War?”

Axel rolls his eyes good-naturedly. “Hey now, Carter. Don’t get cocky. We’ll get you next year.”

The truck erupts in laughter, and I feel a warmth in my chest that has nothing to do with the heater. This camaraderie, this sense of belonging, it’s something I’ve never experienced before, and I find myself reveling in it.

Logan grins at me from the driver’s seat, his green eyes twinkling with excitement. “Ready for Operation Santa’s Helpers?” he asks, his voice warm with affection.

I nod, a smile spreading across my face. “As ready as I’ll ever be. Let’s bring some Christmas cheer to Benton Falls!”

The engine roars to life, and we pull out of the station, the truck’s sirens silent but its red lights flashing merrily. Christmas carols play softly from the radio, adding to the festive atmosphere. As we wind through the streets of our small town, I’m struck by the beauty of the holiday decorations. Twinkling lights adorn every house and storefront, and wreaths hang from lamp posts, their red ribbons fluttering in the breeze.

Our first stop is a small, weathered house on the outskirts of town. As Logan brings the truck to a halt, I can see curtains twitching and hear the excited squeals of children inside. We hop down from the cab, our arms full of presents, and make our way to the front door.

The mother who answers looks tired but grateful, her eyes widening at the sight of the gifts. “Oh, thank you,” she breathes, her voice thick with emotion. “The kids will be so excited.”

As if on cue, two small faces peer around her legs, eyes wide with wonder. Logan crouches down, his smile gentle. “Hey there,” he says softly. “I heard you two have been very good this year. Santa asked us to bring you something special.”

The children’s faces light up as we set the presents under the meager tree, their joy so palpable it brings tears to my eyes. As we turn to leave, the little girl tugs on my sleeve. “Are you a Mrs. Firefighter?” she asks innocently.

I feel a blush creep up my cheeks as Logan chuckles beside me. “No, sweetie,” I reply, my voice soft. “I’m just helping out tonight.”

The girl nods solemnly. “You’re pretty.”

Logan grins. “Yes, she is. You are very smart.”

As we climb back into the truck, Logan’s hand finds mine, giving it a gentle squeeze. The warmth of his touch spreads through me, chasing away the winter chill. I’m struck by how natural this feels, how right.

We continue our rounds, stopping at houses all over Benton Falls. At each one, we’re greeted with smiles, tears of gratitude, and the unbridled joy of children. The spirit of Christmas seems to hang in the air, tangible and bright.

Between stops, we chat and laugh with the other firefighters. I find myself relaxing, joking with them in a way I never would have imagined possible just a few weeks ago.

As the night wears on, our pile of gifts dwindles. We’ve crisscrossed the town, bringing joy to families in need and spreading Christmas cheer. The streets are quieter now, most people tucked away in their homes, celebrating with loved ones.

Our final stop is the Johnson house, where Logan and I had secretly decorated just days ago. As we pull up, I grin in delight. The yard is still a winter wonderland, but the family has added their own touches, handmade decorations hanging from trees, a snowman family proudly displayed near the driveway.

Mr. Johnson meets us at the door, his face beaming.

We step inside, and I’m immediately enveloped in the warmth of a home filled with love and laughter. The children crowd around us, chattering excitedly about their Christmas hopes. Mrs. Johnson presses mugs of hot cocoa into our hands, the rich aroma filling the air. I sip quietly, content to let the others take the lead on this one.

As we say our goodbyes, promising to visit again soon, I catch Logan watching me. His eyes are soft, filled with an emotion that makes my heart skip a beat. I’m in love with this man. He’s so good, so honest, so incredibly handsome that I’d be a fool not to give him the very heart I worked so hard to keep hidden.

Back in the truck, we fall into a comfortable silence as we head toward the station. The town passes by in a blur of twinkling lights and snow-dusted rooftops. I find myself reflecting on the evening, on the joy we’ve brought to so many families, on the connections we’ve forged.

Finally, we pull into the fire station. The other trucks are already back, the firefighters milling about, sharing stories from their night of gift-giving. As I hop down from the cab, Logan catches my hand.

“Wait,” he says softly, pulling me gently towards him.

Before I can respond, his lips are on mine. The kiss is deep and lingering, filled with all the emotions of the night. I melt into him, my arms wrapping around his neck as he encircles my waist. When we finally part, he says, “I love you, Bailey,” his voice husky with emotion. “I love your creativity, your kindness, your strength. I love the way you’ve opened your heart to this town, to me. I love every bit of you.”

My heart feels like it might burst with happiness. “I love you too, Logan,” I reply, my voice barely above a whisper. “More than I ever thought possible.”

He pulls me in for another kiss, and I can hear the good-natured whoops and cheers of the other firefighters in the background. As we break apart, grinning like teenagers, I catch sight of a familiar figure standing near the station entrance. Gladys gives me a wink and a thumbs up before seeming to disappear into the snowy night.

“She’s gone,” I whisper. The truth of my statement settling inside of me.

“Who?” Logan turns to look behind us.

“My angel.” I blink back tears as I look up at the ceiling. A part of me knows I’m not going to see Gladys again, and I’ll miss her. Instead of breaking down into tears, I am filled with comfort. I’m so grateful our paths crossed and set us both onto new adventures.

This Christmas Eve, I’ve not only helped bring joy to others, but I’ve also found a joy of my own–th,—joy of loving and being loved in return.

As we walk hand in hand into the station, ready to join the others in some well-earned celebration, I silently thank God for directing me during my lowest time. This Christmas has truly been a season of miracles. And I can’t wait to see what the future holds, with Logan by my side and my heart finally fully open to all the possibilities life has to offer.