High Heat

by Annabeth Albert

  He simply wasn’t certain. Maybe Grandma was right, and this was simply who he was—a person who moved on. A free spirit, like her. Everyone else seemed to believe it about him too. And attachment fucking sucked, that much was indisputable. He’d let himself get attached to Garrick and Cookie, and like always, attachment led to heartbreak. Whether it was a coffee mug or a stubborn boyfriend, things had a way of moving on, and there was no shame in wanting to be the one to leave first.

  But then wasn’t he just as cowardly as Garrick? Running from commitment because he might get hurt if he stayed around? Fuck. Why couldn’t someone have the answers for him?

  Even the fresh baked banana bread didn’t quiet the questions in his head, nor did helping Grandma clean up from her dyeing marathon. He was trying to get the remaining blue dye off his arms when his phone buzzed.

  Garrick. He almost didn’t answer, not sure what Garrick could say that could make a difference. But what if he had the solution to all the roiling in Rain’s brain? And more importantly, what if he needed him?

  But when he answered, it turned out none of those questions really mattered because what Garrick said was “There’s a fire. Big one. Forest Service is calling all hands on deck. I need a ride, and you need to be ready to roll.”

  Fuck. What if the only thing worse than too much time on his hands to think about where his life was headed was no time at all?

  Chapter Nineteen

  “Okay. Let’s go.” Rain arrived at Garrick’s place, all business in his forest service work uniform, smears of blue dye on one arm and messy hair, which he bundled up under a hat as he waited for Garrick to come down his ramp. “Is Cookie going to be okay?”

  “Yeah, I’ve got Dad coming over in a few hours to check on her. If we’re gone overnight, he’s going to take her to his place. He’ll keep her separate from the farm dogs until he sees whether they can make friends.”

  “Good.” Rain came around his SUV so he could load Garrick’s chair and crutches. He’d also quickly packed a backpack with some snacks and other provisions in case of an extended shift.

  Being in the field—even if it was at a fire base camp along with Fred Adams and Tucker Ryland and the other bosses—was something he generally enjoyed and had missed since his accident, and if he wasn’t twisted in knots over Rain, he’d be looking forward to the challenge. The fire camp they’d set up for interagency coordination was about an hour away, and Ryland was having his crews meet up there rather than go thirty minutes or more in the other direction to headquarters first.

  Several hotshot, engine, and smoke-jumper crews were already either en route or on the scene as fire management teams had been working since the early morning hours on developing an attack plan. This fire, while in a remote location, had the potential to do some real damage if it was allowed to spread toward rural communities potentially in its path. The less experienced hand crews like Rain’s would dig fireline some distance from the fire while the other crews worked on the more challenging spots closer in.

  “I’ve got the GPS on my phone set.” Garrick plugged it into the dashboard. God, this was weird, acting like there wasn’t a Crater Lake–sized gap between them, acting like this was simply another workday commute when the truth was he’d been begging rides from Ryland and his dad for several days now. Avoiding Rain was so much easier than this, being close enough to touch and smell and not knowing a damn thing to say that might relieve this awful tension.

  “Were you dyeing fabric with your grandma?” he asked at last as the miles ticked by and the silence became oppressive, a heavy weight that seemed to make him hyperaware of each breath and each small movement of Rain’s, like how he was drumming on the steering wheel.

  “Yup. Shirts. Big sale coming up in Klamath Falls in a couple of weeks. She’s excited about a weekend away. I volunteered to watch her bratty dogs, so I’m hoping it’s before I get a call about California.”

  “Ah. You...uh...put in for that hotshot crew?”

  “Not yet.” Rain’s jaw had a stubborn tilt to it as he studied the road ahead. “But what else am I supposed to do? Thought that’s what you wanted me to do.”

  “I was just asking. I didn’t say to not do it!”

  “Of course not.” Rain sounded more resigned than disappointed, which honestly made Garrick feel even worse.

  “What did your grandma say about the idea? Can she spare you?”

  “Ha.” Rain snorted, more of that bitterness to his tone. “She says to go, says I need to chase my big adventure like I’ve always talked about.”

  “See? She’s not wrong. This is a good chance for you to do exactly that.”

  “Yeah.” Rain’s sigh was so empty that Garrick’s chest hurt.

  “Does it help if I admit that I’m going to miss you like crazy? I already do. Cookie too. She’s been pouting for days now.”

  “Poor Cookie. Could...could I come take her out maybe? Cheer her up with a run?” Rain neatly avoided acknowledging Garrick’s admission about his own missing him.

  “You’re welcome anytime. You know that.” But Rain’s answering frown said maybe that wasn’t true. Maybe Rain didn’t know that Garrick would happily squeeze every last drop of togetherness out of his remaining time in the area. His conversation with his dad came filtering back into his brain. A clean break might be the easiest and smartest thing, but hell if Garrick could seem to stick to it. “I want you around. For Cookie but for me too. I meant it. I miss you.”

  “Damn it. I—”

  “Turn left in 900 feet,” the GPS bleated, cutting off whatever Rain had been about to say, and after he made the turn, his tone was a lot less soft.

  “It’ll just make it hurt that much more when I do go.”

  Garrick couldn’t argue with that, but being with Rain had a way of making all logic and good sense fly out the window. The scenery outside was much more rugged now, signs of civilization few and far between, and a haze hung over the forest. Something about being out here, only the two of them, made him more honest than was probably wise. “Maybe it would be worth it.”

  A muscle worked in Rain’s jaw as he took several long moments to consider this. “You’re always going to be worth the heartache. I wish it didn’t have to hurt so damn much though.”

  Damn it. Something broke loose inside Garrick’s chest, and he needed them to not be in this car, the road needing Rain’s primary attention. He needed to be able to hold and touch him, try to take away some of that pain in his voice.

  “Come over. After this is done, come over. Please.”

  Rain opened his mouth, but the stupid GPS interrupted again with another turn and then they were at the fire camp—a collection of makeshift tents and old logging structures repurposed by the forest service. Trucks and equipment from several different agencies also occupied the clearing, and activity buzzed, people barking orders, personnel putting on gear, others checking on equipment and studying maps. It never ceased to amaze Garrick how fast the interagency logistics crew could get a camp together, even in the middle of nowhere like this. Trailers had already been brought in for food, hygiene, and for admin to work out of.

  “Wow.” Rain’s wide eyes mirrored how awed Garrick had been the first time he’d seen an operation like this in action.

  “Rain.” Garrick didn’t want to let the moment pass, not when they might not get another one for who knew how long. “I mean it. Come over. Let’s talk.”

  “Maybe.” Rain bit his lip and glanced away.

  Fuck. Now Garrick would have to live with that non-answer, wondering whether they’d get a chance to talk or not. And there was no time to advocate for a better answer either. Ryland met them at the car to help him get to the operations trailer that was housing Dispatch for the various crews and agencies. While flat, the ground was still uneven and rocky, but Ryland arranged it so that they could pull close to unload so he didn’
t have to walk far with the crutches to his station. At least the trailer had a floor for his wheelchair to roll on.

  “All set?” Rain asked, eyes flitting to all the activity outside the trailer, clearly itching to be out there. Or maybe he simply wanted done with Garrick, which was a far more depressing thought.

  “Yeah. Good luck out there.” Garrick had no hold on him, no reason to ask him to stay a minute, no choice but to let him go.

  No choice but to let him go. That might as well be his mantra right then. He had no choice but to let Rain go, let him be free to chase adventure. We both know how that story ends, his dad had said, and Garrick had felt that truth down to his bones. He did know how the story ended, both his own with Lisa and his dad’s with Garrick’s mother.

  Hell, here it was, over twenty years after his mother had left and his father had barely dated in all that time, preferring instead to throw himself into his business and his property. Is that going to be me? The future stretched out in front of him, as endless as the forest surrounding them. He could see himself and Cookie, alone against the world, like his dad and his horses, and just as bitter about relationships and risk.

  But watching Rain stride away, he questioned everything about that future. Did the story have to end with Rain walking away for good? With it hurting so much? He’d assumed the pain was simply inevitable for both of them, but what if it wasn’t?

  For the first time he contemplated what it would take to choose a different path, not the straight line to heartache but a rockier trail with more uncertainty. More of that risk his dad had counseled against, but maybe more reward.

  Perhaps the real question, and the one he should have been asking himself all week, was whether he was brave enough to put his heart on the line or whether for the first time in his life, he was going to accept being a quitter when it came to getting what he truly wanted.

  * * *

  The smoke, even this far from the fire, made the air hazy and clung to Rain’s nostrils, astringent and omnipresent, overriding the usual forest scents of dirt and pine. The forest was noisier too—chainsaws whining from every direction, and planes and helicopters going by overhead. Airtankers and helicopters had been dropping retardant and water all afternoon, and he’d heard numerous reports that Garrick’s old smoke-jumper buddies were being deployed close to the fire. This was day two of the firefighting effort, and he’d grabbed a precious few hours of sleep in a tent with Zeb and Bosler, whose snores mingled with the drone of the chainsaws off in the distance.

  He’d seen Garrick briefly in the distance when he was grabbing a sack lunch to take out with him. He’d been deep in conversation with Ryland, so Rain hadn’t headed over. Not that he would have known what to say even if he’d been free. Garrick wanted to talk when this was all over. Said he missed him. Implied having him around was worth the coming pain. And damn did Rain want to go to him, even if talking ended up with them in bed and no words spoken. But as to whether that would be the right call for either of them...

  Well, he simply wasn’t sure. And hours of backbreaking digging in the hot sun hadn’t provided much of an answer either. Presently, they were working to provide an outer perimeter for a planned burnout—a controlled burn from some of the firelines toward the approaching fire, depriving the wildfire of fuel. Crews would then come through and attack hot spots—cutting open smoldering trees, spreading water, covering other hot spots with dirt. It was hard, messy, hot work, and he’d give half his underwear collection for a shower and a chance to wash his hair, which was bundled up under his helmet and adding to his sweatiness.

  “I’m worried about O’Connor.” Bosler came over to him, mouth pursing and gaze darting back to where their crew boss was sitting near a stump. “She keeps saying she’s fine, but I think she’s overheating or something else medical is going on. She’s dizzy even if she won’t admit it, and her color’s no good.”

  “Crap. Should we call for assistance?” There was a first aid tent set up at the fire camp and medics on-site staffing it. He and Bosler had been sharing radio duties as normal, but he was the one with it at the present.

  “Come over with me. Let’s try to get O’Connor to agree before we go over her head.”

  “Good idea.” He followed Bosler over to her. Bosler had been right—O’Connor’s color was a mix of pale and blotchy red patches, and she was sweating even harder than Rain. His limited first aid training had the hair on his neck prickling, unease gathering low in his belly. This wasn’t good. “Hey, Boss. You feeling okay?”

  “Fisher. I take it Bosler’s been telling tales?” O’Connor’s voice was weary with a thready quality that worried Rain further.

  “He thinks I should put a call in for some medical assistance for you. Tell you what, how about you let me call simply to put his mind at ease? We’ll get you checked out, Bosler can hold down the fort, and then you can be back out here with us once they get you hydrated or whatever else you might need?”

  “You’re probably...right.” O’Connor blew out a pained breath between her teeth. Damn. Rain did not like where this was heading. Might simply be heat exhaustion, but it could also be her heart or something more serious. “Maybe...some electrolyte drink. Keep...having floaters in my eyes too. Never had heat...do me like this.”

  “Okay. I’m going to radio in.” He was more than willing to take her nominal agreement that hydration could help as permission. “Base? This is hand crew four-five-one requesting medical assistance.”

  “Four-five-one, we copy. What is the nature of your emergency?” Garrick’s voice was warm but concerned, and no matter what issues lay between them, Rain was damn glad he was on the call. Not only was he reassuring, but he was also good at his job. He’d get them help.

  “Our crew boss is ill.” He quickly relayed O’Connor’s symptoms to Garrick. “I don’t think she can walk back to the hard line rendezvous point.”

  “Copy that. I’m paging medical now to see what our options are. Despite this heat, wind conditions are a big concern today. See if she’ll drink some water, and I’ll be back in a second with a plan. Hang in there.”

  Simply knowing Garrick was working on the problem helped. His last words felt personal somehow, a message to bolster him. After Rain ended the transmission, Bosler urged O’Connor to drink, which ended up being a mistake because she promptly threw it up.

  “Sorry. Guess... I...am...little sick.” Her breathing was more labored now, and Rain wasn’t waiting for Garrick to get back to him, reaching for the radio even before she was done talking.

  “Base? Four-five-one here with an update. Water was a no-go. The boss is vomiting now. She doesn’t report pain, but her breathing is getting rough. What’s the ETA on that assistance?”

  “Copy that, four-five-one. We’ve got medics heading to you via truck, and we’re trying to get a helicopter for medical evacuation.”

  “That’s good.” He couldn’t keep the relief out of his voice. He didn’t like not knowing how to help himself, didn’t like coming up against the limits of his rather sparse training, and he was seriously regretting not getting an EMT certification when he’d had the opportunity. Several others had stopped working, a small group gathering to see what was up. “And the rest of us?”

  “Rather than pull the whole crew, your orders are to continue on. Bosler is your acting crew boss.”

  “Copy that. I’ll let him know.” He wanted to keep Garrick on the line but tempered that impulse. Garrick could help them best if he wasn’t tethered to the call. Taking a deep breath, Rain went back over to Bosler. He’d simply have to work through the fluttering pulse of anxiety on his own.

  “Okay, back to work, everyone. Help is on the way.” Bosler waved the onlookers away. “And no one else get dehydrated. Drink your fluids. More than you think you need. Fisher, you keep a lookout for the medics and keep listening to the radio chatter.”

  It felt li
ke a decade passed, but in reality, it wasn’t that long before the sound of a motor nearby cut through the forest. Two medics arrived with a stretcher for the boss. The older of the two, a woman with short gray hair, frowned as she took O’Connor’s vital signs.

  “Damn this wind and smoke. Hopefully we’re able to rendezvous with the helitack crew, get her airlifted to Bend,” she said to him and Bosler, adding to his worries that this was more serious than simple heat exhaustion. “You did the right thing, calling for us.”

  “Good.”

  They didn’t take long loading up O’Connor, which let them get back to work on the fireline. He kept the radio though at Bosler’s request, and incoming messages were all about the shifting wind and changing fire conditions.

  “Think they’re gonna call us back before the burnout?” he asked Bosler after relaying another update.

  “Could be.” Bosler’s eyes were on the increasingly smoky sky. “Say a prayer for the smoke jumpers dealing with this. Bet some end up treed or worse. Wind. It’s the devil.”

  Rain’s thoughts flashed to Linc and Jacob, hoping that they and the rest of Garrick’s friends were safe, realizing on a deeper level the sort of danger Garrick had lived with on a daily basis. It was rather humbling, knowing that the smoke jumpers were out there doing the impossible so that the hand crews like Rain’s had a better shot of success. And likewise, it made their work that much more important too, made it necessary that they complete their line so that the burnout could happen as scheduled, reducing the risks for everyone.

  Trust. They all had to have it—trusting in each other to do their jobs, all part of the same effort. Without trust, everything would fall apart.

  Kind of like a relationship. All members of a relationship had to trust each other. And maybe that was where he and Garrick were having trouble. Garrick didn’t trust him to stick around, that much was clear. But, if he were being fair, he wasn’t exactly trusting Garrick either, not believing him when he said he wanted Rain around or when he said he’d miss Rain. He’d discounted all of that when the whole summer Garrick had done nothing other than give him reasons to trust. He was the sort of person who meant what he said, who followed through, and why should this be any different?