High Heat (Hotshots 2)

“Good.”

They didn’t take long loading up O’Connor, which let them get back to work on the fireline. He kept the radio though at Bosler’s request, and incoming messages were all about the shifting wind and changing fire conditions.

“Think they’re gonna call us back before the burnout?” he asked Bosler after relaying another update.

“Could be.” Bosler’s eyes were on the increasingly smoky sky. “Say a prayer for the smoke jumpers dealing with this. Bet some end up treed or worse. Wind. It’s the devil.”

Rain’s thoughts flashed to Linc and Jacob, hoping that they and the rest of Garrick’s friends were safe, realizing on a deeper level the sort of danger Garrick had lived with on a daily basis. It was rather humbling, knowing that the smoke jumpers were out there doing the impossible so that the hand crews like Rain’s had a better shot of success. And likewise, it made their work that much more important too, made it necessary that they complete their line so that the burnout could happen as scheduled, reducing the risks for everyone.

Trust. They all had to have it—trusting in each other to do their jobs, all part of the same effort. Without trust, everything would fall apart.

Kind of like a relationship. All members of a relationship had to trust each other. And maybe that was where he and Garrick were having trouble. Garrick didn’t trust him to stick around, that much was clear. But, if he were being fair, he wasn’t exactly trusting Garrick either, not believing him when he said he wanted Rain around or when he said he’d miss Rain. He’d discounted all of that when the whole summer Garrick had done nothing other than give him reasons to trust. He was the sort of person who meant what he said, who followed through, and why should this be any different?

Because it’s scary. Funny how being this close to a raging wildfire wasn’t as scary as opening his heart up to another person, truly trusting them, and being willing to risk pain. Maybe it would be worth it, Garrick had said. And he had a point—there was a place where the benefits of being with someone outweighed the risk of hurt. He could see the outline of that place now, a shimmering mirage of a future he desperately wanted and was afraid to hope for. Could he do it? Could he offer up that kind of trust?

“Four-Five-One, this is base, do you copy?” His radio crackled with Garrick’s voice coming in loud and strong.

“Roger that, base. Go ahead.” He wasn’t sure whether to hope Garrick could hear that he’d been thinking about him or not.

“The fire’s turning. We need to get your crew out of there ASAP.”

Oh crap. No more daydreaming. His spine stiffened, muscles coiling.

“No burnout?” He was already on it, racing toward Bosler, who had been checking the crew members on the farther end of the line.

“No time.” Garrick’s voice was clipped, a tone Rain recognized as him trying not to get emotional. Damn. He must be seriously worried for them. For Rain. Rain’s pulse sped up as Garrick continued, “Your orders are to get back to your hardline anchor point, follow the riverbed.”

“Copy that. I’m advising Bosler now.”

“Good. We’re extracting crews as quickly as we can along the river. Priority is going to a couple of serious injuries first. Please advise if you run into problems.”

“Will do.”

“Rain—” It was the first time Garrick had ever used Rain’s first name on a transmission and it made his heart leap up into his throat, made it hard to keep listening, given the emotions that swamped him.

“Yeah?”

“You guys be safe, okay? Move fast. No stupid risks, but move.”

“Got it. We’ll make the river.”

“Stay in contact.”

“Roger that.” He had to fall back on his training because simply hearing Garrick worried was enough to make talking difficult. Garrick cared. And maybe he cared about all the crews, but there was something extra there, an urgency in his voice that said far more than the actual words he used.

As he helped Bosler round everyone up and start hustling toward the river, he kept coming back to that point. Garrick cared. He remembered the day when they thought they’d found Cookie’s owner. Garrick had been willing to let her go because it was the right thing to do, but it didn’t mean he didn’t care about her. And maybe that was what he’d been trying to tell Rain in his own roundabout way—he was willing to let Rain go because some mixed-up code of ethics said that was the right thing to do. But he didn’t mean he didn’t care. He might even love Rain, might want him that much, but he’d been willing to let him go because he thought he had no choice.

That was who he was. The guy who did the right thing, even when it was hard, even when he didn’t want to. That was the guy Rain cared so much about. In some weird way, him being willing to let Rain go made him care that much more, now that he saw it for what it was. It wasn’t Garrick caring too little. It was him caring so very much. And that realization had him moving that much faster, made his movements that much more urgent. Garrick wanted to talk, and suddenly, he had so much he wanted to say to him.