Burn Zone (Hotshots 1)

“No, ma’am. I’m listening,” he assured her. And he did try to do a better job for the remainder of the lecture.

On break he wanted to thank Linc for the assist but he was deep in conversation with Ray and Garrick and no way was Jacob pointing out Linc’s help in front of them. They didn’t need another reason to see him as Wyatt’s flaky kid brother.

Linc took a long sip of coffee, and Jacob knew without looking that it was black. He wished that just once he could look at him without remembering. Because maybe Linc had forgotten in a rush of embarrassment and guilt, and months of avoidance to chase Jacob from his mind, but Jacob wouldn’t ever forget, still wasn’t able to drink coffee without remembering what it tasted like on Linc’s lips.

“I need a ride back to my place. Don’t want the dogs going nuts for their dinner.” Linc threw away his paper coffee cup as he came over to where Jacob was standing outside the house. He was embarrassed to have to ask, Jacob could tell by the way his eyes darted away and his ears flushed pink. “I told you this morning that I could drive myself.”

He had, but Jacob honestly hadn’t been sure he’d show up without him dragging him there, and he’d been equally sure that he couldn’t get through this hardest of days without Linc there. Simply sitting next to him shoulder to shoulder in the tightly packed pews had helped. But he wasn’t going to admit that, so he just shrugged. “Mom sent me. And I was right too—the church parking lot was packed.”

They’d arrived early and still had to park at the feed store on the other corner. Every seat was filled with long-distance family, neighbors, people they’d gone to school with, teachers even, and firefighters from all over. Even now, a few hours later, he couldn’t recall a word the preacher had said or remember which sad song his cousin had sung with her guitar. The choir had done “Amazing Grace,” the refrain echoing in his ears as he drove Linc home in silence, neither of them up to small talk after the service followed by the meal in the church hall and then still more food and visitors back at the house, out-of-town mourners lingering.

He didn’t blame Linc one bit for wanting to be done and was actually damn glad for the excuse to head out himself.

“You need a hand with the dogs?” he asked as he turned down Linc’s long gravel drive. It was the shallowest of stalling measures, but now that he was here, moments from being alone with his thoughts, he couldn’t stand it. He had the idea of stopping on the way home, pick up some Jack, ensure he’d sleep at least, but the prospect of more time with Linc was far better than any liquor.

He expected Linc to turn him down, though, didn’t anticipate his sharp nod.

“You might as well come in.” Linc’s voice was resigned. Maybe he was as reluctant to be entirely alone as Jacob was.

The low manufactured home that had been Linc’s dad’s was a humble gray, spruced up a bit by the green porch Linc had added a few years back. Linc bypassed the porch, went around to the back door, which led to a mudroom that gave access to a fenced dog run. As far as Jacob could tell, the dogs had a pretty pampered existence even when Linc was gone—big fluffy beds in the mudroom, plenty of water, and a far more whimsical supply of toys than he would have expected from their stoic owner.

He threw a rubber hamburger for them while Linc changed out the water and dished up some dry kibble. His mom hadn’t had a dog in a few years, and Jacob had missed the canine attention. Kinda like the little kids at the funeral and all the after activities—meeting their immediate needs was grounding.

“Your throwing arm tired yet?” Linc asked with a weary smile. Despite his suit, Jacob had tossed the ball for Junior and his cousins just to escape the house. Too hot from the exertion, he’d left his suit coat in the truck. Linc had taken his off to see to the dogs, shirtsleeves rolled back now.

“Nah,” he said as the dogs ran to their bowls, leaving the two of them alone in the back doorway. He probably needed to head out, but his boots stayed rooted to the spot.

“They got you dusty.” In a surprise move, Linc brushed something off Jacob’s shoulder, putting them face-to-face, inches apart. Linc’s hazel eyes reflected the grief that had dogged Jacob all damn day, an almost visceral, physical ache, a heaviness he couldn’t shake.

“Don’t send me away,” he whispered, putting a hand on Linc’s arm, keeping him there, not that Linc seemed particularly inclined to retreat.