Feel the Fire (Hotshots 3)

“Yeah.” Luis nodded like this wasn’t a surprise to him. His gaze never so much as flitted Tucker’s direction. “I talked to some folks back home today. They’re almost as shorthanded as you are here. The hiring freeze has affected everyone.”

“Thankfully, that’s about to be over, but good luck scheduling interviews at the height of fire season,” Christine interjected.

“Yup. And that’s where we’re at.” Fred drummed his thick fingers against the table. “Was hoping we’d have you through the holiday weekend, but I think this week is going to be it. See what you can do to have everything you’re working on ready to hand off by Thursday.”

This week. Thursday. Three days and change. Hours. He was running out of time. Luis said a bunch of other things, mainly updates on how officials were monitoring activity on some potential spots the arsonist hadn’t hit yet, but Tucker’s brain was still crackling like a radio station out in the desert, only intermittent signals making it through.

After the meeting, he was slow getting up, as was Luis. Stop him. Say something. Anything. But he didn’t. Couldn’t. And so their gazes met, held, air thick with an almost palpable longing as the room emptied of people. And it wasn’t all him. He could swear Luis was feeling it too, and indeed, he paused near the door.

“I...” Luis licked his lips.

Please. Tucker’s heart sped up. Whatever Luis wanted to say, he wanted to listen.

“Yeah. We should—”

“Luis? Do you need Jeep keys or are you taking your own vehicle to the air base?” One of the young assistants poked her head in the room, right as Tucker was about to ask...hell, he didn’t even know now. Whatever he’d been about to say, the moment passed as Luis brushed by him.

“I’ll take my car, thanks.” He followed the assistant down the hall, away from Tucker, but spared him a last glance over his shoulder. His eyes were troubled, mouth tight, and Tucker hated the thought that he might be distracted by their falling-out at his big meeting or while driving.

Damn it. This sucked. Back in his office, he slumped in his chair, but his phone buzzed with a message before he could wallow in the awful, empty sensation taking hold of his body.

I’ve got a time scheduled Wednesday for a video chat with that coach from Kansas. You can do it, right? Mom is still freaking out. And a place in South Dakota sent me stuff too. Cool!

Tucker was in the middle of typing a reply to Wade when a message from Walker arrived too.

Don’t let Wade choose South Dakota. Seriously. He’s like a puppy with too many toys. Can I sleep at your place tonight if he won’t shut up?

He hit Send on the message to Wade, then sent one to Walker. Yes, of course. Tell your mother. And having choices is a GOOD thing. Go easy on Wade.

Poor Walker. Couldn’t be easy dealing with Wade, who had possibly too many options, while Walker was clearly still feeling like he had none. Exactly like Tucker. No feasible alternatives sucked.

But then he stared down at his phone at what he’d typed, at the unspoken message he was trying to convey. Walker did have choices. So did he. The problem was that neither of them wanted to acknowledge them, which was different than actually lacking options. And Tucker wasn’t seventeen himself any longer. He drew his shoulders up, straightened his legs. He was an adult and so was Luis. They both had free will here. Specifically, Tucker did have a choice. He could choose to let Luis go or he could fight. And not just fight the universe or Luis’s own reluctance, but fight himself and all the assumptions holding him back too. He needed to look at all the options and possibilities, remove his self-imposed limits, and do the hard work of examining what it was he truly wanted.

Because there were choices out there. He knew it. He simply needed to be brave enough to see them. And then he needed to convince Luis to dream with him. That might be the harder thing, but he wasn’t giving in to despair and bitterness. Not yet. This time he was going to fight.

* * *

“We’re one break away from cracking this thing wide open.” Luis’s fire investigator colleague from the interagency team, a tall woman with curly hair, walked him out of the meeting room where they’d just completed several hours of intense review of all the files on the various fires suspected of being linked to the same arsonist.

“That’s for sure.” He’d spent most of the meeting hyper-focused on the case at hand, trying to block out any distractions. But during the boring parts, he kept drifting back to Tucker and to the haunted expression on his face earlier that day. His brain felt one missing piece away too, like if he could only come at the problem of him and Tucker from a fresh angle, he’d have the solution they so desperately needed.