High Heat (Hotshots 2)

“Oh no, you do not get to tease me like that.” Garrick stopped him with a hand on his arm when Rain would have breezed on by. “Seriously. What’s going on? Something at work?”

“Sort of.” Gently breaking loose from Garrick, he chased Cookie into the bedroom, herding her onto her bed. “There. You can dry off before you get anything else wet.”

“You were saying?” Garrick prompted.

“It’s nothing. Just that Bosler—older guy on our crew—has been after me to put in for a hotshot crew down in California. His brother is a crew chief down there, and he thinks I’d have a good chance of getting the job.”

“And?”

“Well, obviously I’m not taking it. Like I said. It’s a weird mood. That’s all.”

Fuck. Garrick had known this was coming eventually, but still wasn’t ready, didn’t know what to do with the dull ache spreading out in his chest, the heaviness taking over his limbs. But he did know exactly what he had to say. “You should take the opportunity.”

* * *

“What the ever-loving fuck?” Rain whirled on Garrick, who moments earlier had seemed intent on proving that their relationship was way more than the trading of favors. Except maybe it wasn’t, not if Garrick could so easily cast him off. “You want me gone that badly?”

“No!” Garrick held up his hands again, like Rain was the one being unreasonable here. “Of course not. Didn’t I just get done telling you how much I like you around?”

“I don’t know. Did you?” Yeah, he was being childish, but damn. He hurt. He’d expected Garrick to thank him for not going, not...whatever the hell this was instead.

“We have a great time together. You know that. I love having you around. Cookie does too. I’ll miss you like hell, but we both know that hotshot crew slots are hard to come by. If this is really your dream, then you need to go for it.”

“I’m not sure,” Rain admitted, brain whirring like an overloaded motor. He’d thought about little else for days now and still wasn’t certain. He’d thought he’d had his answer—Cookie and Garrick needed him here. Only now he wasn’t sure about that either.

“You’ve been working out like it’s a second job all summer. I’ve seen plenty of smoke-jumping rookies less determined than you. You’ve added muscle, overhauled your diet, gained strength and flexibility—”

“Yeah, well, you’re a good trainer. You could probably do it professionally—anyone would be ripped following your orders.”

“Thanks. But you’ve put in the work, not me. You said you wanted to be on a hotshot crew. What’s changed?”

You. Us. Everything. Those words froze in Rain’s throat, refused to budge because what if that wasn’t enough of an answer for Garrick? What if he was disappointed in Rain changing his mind?

“Spot might open up here,” he said instead, pacing in front of the bed. “It’s only July. There’s a few more months—”

“California’s burn season is longer, and their crews are always way bigger.”

“Why the fuck are you so hell-bent on me going? You want a medal for training me enough to earn a spot?” He stopped short of accusing Garrick of living vicariously through him, swallowing back caustic words he wouldn’t be able to recall, but seriously, he did have to wonder why this seemed to matter so much to Garrick.

“Of course not.” Garrick waved away the accusation. “As someone with a lot more experience than you, though, I know how rare it is to get a hand up like Bosler is offering. You get a few years of hotshot crew experience—”

“Years. You want me gone for years.” Rain’s voice came out flat and lifeless.

“I don’t want.” Eyes wide and pained, Garrick’s face softened. “What I want has absolutely no bearing on this though. This is your future. Your career, if you play your cards right.”

“But it could—your opinion, it could make a difference,” Rain said softly, pausing his pacing near the fireplace. “What you want, that matters to me. Making you happy, that’s important.”

“At the expense of making yourself happy? No, thank you. That’s a recipe for a short and bitter relationship.” Garrick had stripped off his wheelchair gloves and was twisting them in his hands, worrying the leather.

“Like it’s got a ton of longevity to start with. You’re ready to kick me to the curb.”

“Stop that. I am not. But you have to do what’s best for you here.” Garrick stopped twisting long enough to slap the gloves against his thigh.

“Ask me to stay, Garrick.” Rain sank onto Garrick’s side of the bed, putting their faces at the same level. “If that’s what’s in your heart, then ask me to stay.”

“I can’t do that.” So much for eye contact. Garrick wouldn’t meet his gaze. “It wouldn’t be fair to you. You’d be miserable. I’ve known all along that you’re more of a city person.”