Page 29 of Fireline

“My mom was nine months pregnant.” Her voice dipped low. “I’ve always wondered why he put me on that horse instead of her. He could’ve saved two lives…”

Booth knew a little something about the guilt Nova carried—the depth of loss, second-guessing a decision you made in a split second. It was enough to drive a person mad. “Your dad faced an impossible situation, and in that moment, he made a choice—an agonizing one. Sometimes, life throws us into situations where there are no good answers. I don’t think it means you have to close yourself off.”

“Funny you’re the one saying that.” She folded her arms. “Care to share something from your past?”

He stared at all the raw pain in her expression, knowing exactly what that felt like. Two words ran through his mind.

National security.

“That’s what I thought.” Nova turned and walked out of the barn.

Booth watched her leave.

Not only could he not tell her who he really was.

He also couldn’t tell her why his past had to stay a secret.

Nova rushed from the barn before Booth could stop her.

Aria had told her to open herself up to what could be. As if that ever did anyone any good. This was just more proof that Booth wasn’t going to change her life?—as much as she might want that to be true.

Last night, and again just now, her walls had cracked. Against her better judgment, she’d let Booth inside. Exposed her underbelly. Shown weakness.

And she already sensed how bad that could turn out.

The truth was, fire didn’t frighten Nova anymore. The real threat, the vulnerability she fiercely guarded against, was the possibility of losing someone she loved in the flames.

Memories of her parents had left her with a painful throbbing deep in her soul. All she wanted to do was drop to her knees in a patch of scrub grass and suck deep lungfuls of clear mountain air until the pain retreated back to its dull ache.

Peace. She had to find peace.

But that required falling apart, confronting the pain and scars of her past. And she couldn’t bring herself to do it. Not yet.

Stalks of dry grass crackled under her boots as she straightened. Get it together, Burns. Feeling sorry for herself wouldn’t solve her problems.

Jude County’s fire rescue trailer sat in front of Sophie’s house. Good.

The command center would remind her of priorities—the family legacy she aimed to honor by making crew chief someday. It was the one relationship in which she’d risk everything, and right now she could get some work done to that end. Make sure Miles knew she was on the ball.

Tucker’s absence was her opportunity to step things up. Prove herself.

The trailer door stood open, but she rapped her knuckles against the frame anyway. “Knock knock?”

Miles Dafoe, the county’s fire commander, glanced up from a detailed topo map spread across the table. He had his shirt sleeves folded up and reading glasses perched on his nose. His dark hair had more salt than pepper in it these days. “Come on in.”

She stepped inside, zeroing in on the Incident Status whiteboard listing resources in staging. “Looks like we’re still sitting on four helicopters, three hotshot crews…”

“Yep, plus the three smokejumper loads already out.” He tapped a Sharpie against pursed lips. “I was afraid we might need more air attack when that lightning blew through yesterday, but seems they’ve got the range fires pretty well contained.”

“For now.” She scanned scattered pins stuck in the map, denoting fire locations. “If this wind keeps up, though…”

“We’re watching those storms, same as you. General briefings at 0700, 1300 and 1900 hours if you want the full weather and operations update.”

She nodded. “Copy that.”

Nova respected Miles. Some of the guys joked he was a little OCD about protocol and paperwork, but after twenty years working wildfires, Miles had a good reason for sweating the details.

Protocols saved lives.

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