Burn Zone (Hotshots 1)

“Ready?” Unlike Garrick, Linc was all business, no joking around, as he worked next to Ray on assembling the cargo they’d be dropping.

“Yup.” Jacob could be professional too, not even glancing in his direction. Linc had been this way, all work, for days now, even before the latest fire broke out. Something had changed after Jacob’s birthday and not for the better. They’d been closer that night than Jacob had ever been to anyone, but then Linc had been distant at the brunch, hanging more with Jacob’s mom and the kids. And Jacob had figured it was probably to avoid suspicion, but then Linc had kept up the pensive front even when they did get some stolen moments together.

He had undoubtedly made everything worse by asking Linc to think about staying, but he wasn’t going to apologize for the request either. It was as close as he could come to saying that this was far more than simply sex for him. What they had was too good to toss away, and he needed Linc to accept that. Like really accept it, because he did see it. Jacob knew he did. He had to feel it. It was there in every kiss, every long look and every late-night conversation where good night were the hardest two words ever and five more minutes a lifeline.

“I hope you guys are ready.” Sims bustled into the hangar, clipboard in her hand. “We’ve got jump coordinates for you now.”

Once they were fully briefed on the mission at hand, they had only a few minutes to finish their prep before they were loading up the plane and cross-checking each other’s parachute rigging. Linc had his usual pre-jump scowl firmly in place, and he was even more dictatorial than usual. Jacob was willing to concede some control in deference to his nerves, but it was still irritating, the way Linc still seemed unable to trust him, even after all these weeks.

And he should. The jump went fine, Jacob landing correctly, hitting the target zone without issue and not landing too hard either. The start of their work was also straightforward, no need for Linc to be barking orders like Jacob was inches from screwing up. If anything, Linc being tense made Jacob even more so, made him more aware of each movement. Each tree he felled, each action, each reaction felt more weighted with Linc’s scrutiny. Thus, it was probably inevitable that he did screw up, sliding down a tree he was supposed to be climbing, narrowly avoiding a tumble.

“Watch it!” Eyes narrowed, Linc looked more angry than concerned. “I said go slow. Those branches look weaker than I like. Damn it.”

“I’m fine.” Testing, Jacob stretched, grateful his shoulders didn’t seem too worse for the wear.

“Let me do it.”

“I can handle myself.” Jacob brushed himself off, even as Linc was scrambling ahead of him, completing the maneuver himself. And from that moment on, Linc kept coddling him, rushing to do things before Jacob could, shouldering the lion’s share of the work, and generally making a pest of himself. But Jacob couldn’t call him on it, not with Garrick right there. And Garrick was just as bad. Any remotely dangerous task and one of them was there first, almost like they’d coordinated ahead of time. And maybe they had. But he couldn’t demand answers, not with the fire bearing down on them, every minute critical. They didn’t have time to waste arguing.

So, he pushed it down, but by the time they were packing out, heading to the extraction point, he was seething, emotions thicker than the smoky air surrounding them and temper hotter even than his sweat-soaked skin. Their gear and exertion and weather had combined to make him count down to his shower. But not before he could speak his mind.

“Would it be so awful if you guys let me actually work?” he finally asked, unable to wait any longer, immediate danger past as they met the old logging road that would lead them up and out of the path of the fire.

“Yup.” Garrick gave him a good-natured pat. “You did good, Rook. But don’t get ahead of yourself.”

“Felt like you guys were babying me. If it’s a matter of experience, you have to let me gain some.”

“All in good time.” Garrick couldn’t have been more fake-nice if he were a Hollywood talent-show judge, and Linc was ominously quiet, letting Garrick do the justifying. “We’ve got you here to keep you safe, and that’s priority one.”

“Wait.” Jacob whirled on them, eyes locked on Linc’s. “You’ve got me here? It wasn’t just luck of the draw? You asked for me?”

Damn it. Linc had strongly implied it was simply shit luck. And if Jacob couldn’t trust him to be honest, then who could he? He’d figured that at the very least Linc could be straight with him. But it totally fit that he’d have some sort of rescue complex about keeping Jacob out of harm’s way. Hell, he’d probably promised his mom too, and that promise likely meant more to Linc than anything with Jacob. And fuck but that left him feeling like he’d downed a gallon of pickle brine, all sour stomach and bitter mouth.