High Heat (Hotshots 2)

“Are you going for a certain dark look with that shirt or is something else on your mind?” Grandma asked.

No way was he opening up about the fight with Garrick, not right then, but there was the other thing. “If you don’t need me—”

“But I do want you,” she interrupted, voice firm but kind. “As long as you want to stay. I mean that.”

“I appreciate that, Grandma. I’ve got this chance though, to make a hotshot crew.” He explained to her about the California opportunity, skirting by his argument with Garrick in only the vaguest of terms to conclude, “If I was needed here, it would be an easy choice to stay. But since I’m not, I guess I can’t turn down this chance.”

“Sure you can.” She shrugged, like it was that easy. “You won’t, of course. But you could.”

“What do you mean I won’t?”

“Ever since you were little you’ve had a taste for adventure. You’re like me in that regard—you like moving on when things get boring. Took me forever to decide to buy this place, stay put awhile. Even now I see listings for festivals elsewhere and I get itchy feet.”

“It’s not that I’m bored here,” he protested. “I mean, my job isn’t the most interesting a lot of the time, and neither you nor Garrick truly needs me around, but I’m not like...unhappy.”

“Of course you’re not unhappy. You’ve got my charming neighbor and his biceps distracting you. You don’t have to be unhappy to want that adventure you’ve been craving. I imagine this one, going off to fight fires on the front lines, seems like the sort of thing you’ve been waiting for.”

“Maybe.” He wasn’t so sure anymore what he’d been waiting for. For years now he’d wanted his real life to start, something important and all-consuming, and yeah, an adventure. Spinning his wheels in Portland certainly hadn’t been it, bouncing from dead-end jobs and trying on different majors. Losing out on the fire academy had certainly stung, and part of that was losing that sense of direction that goal had provided. He’d been so sure that was going to be his big adventure, and then it wasn’t. And then all summer making a hotshot crew had been the next big thing. But now the chance was here and...

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.