Feel the Fire (Hotshots 3)

Speaking of smiling, Rain and Garrick kept grinning at each other across the patio, and as best Luis could tell, the gathering was actually an excuse for them to engage in repeated eye-fucking, the sort of easy courtship where they weren’t afraid to show their feelings. Seemed like they each knew they had a good thing and weren’t about to waste it. It was the sort of established couple behavior that Luis had tried hard to convince himself that he didn’t miss, but even this short amount of time with Tucker had shown him otherwise. And now, watching the other couples, bitterness rose in his throat. Damn it. He needed more time.

After Rain left them to mingle, they headed back to the food table. He was fixing himself a plate when his phone buzzed in his pocket.

“Excuse me. Better make sure they aren’t about to call us out.” Not wanting to be rude, he ducked into the house to check his messages. But it wasn’t a work emergency. Instead, the message was from his mom, sad kitten emoji included.

You haven’t messaged your mami in a few days! We’re planning Josefina’s birthday in two weeks. Any chance you’ll be back? Everyone misses you so much, mijo.

Slumping against the kitchen wall, he took a breath while typing out a fast reply that he didn’t know a return date and would call soon. He missed the family a lot and didn’t want to miss little Josefina’s birthday, had picked out the perfect junior scientist kit for her weeks ago, but hell, he was going to miss here too. No easy way out of any of this.

“They calling you back to California?” A coworker of Rain’s, an older retired smoke jumper they’d been introduced to earlier, helped himself to some water from the fridge dispenser. He’d made some small talk about a brother on a hotshot crew near Los Angeles. Luis didn’t know him, but apparently the California connection had stuck in this guy’s head.

“No. Just my mom missing me.” He pocketed his phone.

“Ah. Surprised they haven’t sent for you. You heard the latest on the fires?”

“No, sorry, I haven’t.” Guilt snaked up his spine. He’d been so wrapped up in Tucker the last few days that he hadn’t paid much attention to out-of-the-area news.

“It’s bad.” The man, whose name escaped Luis, pulled out his own oversize phone and showed Luis a news story about all the acres burning in several different fires due to a rash of dry lightning.

“Hell.” That was his territory, the area he’d worked so hard to protect over the years, and his friends and coworkers on the line. He should have been paying more attention, and that was the truth. And if these fires continued, the chances were even higher that Rosalind or someone above her would call for him—he had the expertise they’d need, and as much as he wanted more time here, he hated the thought of his coworkers shouldering this big burden shorthanded.

“Yep. It’s a mess all right.” The other guy unknowingly summed up Luis’s entire last few weeks. A mess. He couldn’t be in two places at once, but oh how he wanted.

Eventually, he drifted back to his abandoned plate and Tucker, who had found a seat on a bench near the group that included Garrick.

“Everything okay?” Tucker patted the place next to him.

“Yeah.” He sighed as he sat down because he couldn’t lie to Tucker. “Well, nothing dire at least. Mami misses me and the fires in CA are getting worse, but no imminent callout here.”

“Of course your mom misses you. Tell her we enjoyed her recipe last night.” Tucker took on a wistful expression, eyes distant, undoubtedly because he knew Mami would like him a lot better if Oregon was around the corner from her suburban neighborhood.

“Will do. She always did enjoy feeding you, even if most of your appetite tended to come out at dessert.”

“That it did.” Tucker laughed, but it sounded forced. “Loved her chimangos. Way better than any ordinary donut.”

“If you’re nice, I’ll make them for you.”

“Deal.” Tucker bumped his shoulder, but the tight line of his mouth said he knew as well as Luis that the opportunity might not materialize.

Time. Ticking away, making Luis’s chest ache and his food turn to wood pulp, bland and heavy and about as appetizing. Around them, conversation swirled, people playing with Garrick’s dog and sharing funny pet stories, but Luis’s attention kept drifting. This was a nice, welcoming crowd, showing how far the area had come in the years since Luis had left. Garrick’s big rancher father managed a teasing relationship with Rain that even a cynic would call fond. Meanwhile, Lincoln and Jacob were sharing a glider, and their feet kept overlapping, little casual touches that showed how comfortable they were here. And yet Luis couldn’t shake the feeling that any fitting in was to be short-lived, a sense of doom rolling in like a wind from the west.