Page 1 of Fight

FIVE YEARS AGO

When did we start complimenting funerals, calling themnice? Who started that? I’d love to trip them up a flight of stairs. Comment after comment today has been admiring the service, as if it’s the only small talk anyone knows how to make. Funerals are funerals. They all suck. However, this one is the worst… because I watched him die, and the fresh memory of his lifeless body plays on repeat in my thoughts. The only grace is that he went instantly.

It’s a relief to leave the funeral home, but driving to Garrett’s duplex seems equally, if not more, daunting. I’m not sure where they will put all these people, it’s not a huge house. Along the residential street, I shift my truck into park behind many other vehicles belonging to friends and family.

Garrett Macomb was our leader, the superintendent of our hotshot crew, and the father of one of my best friends. Though many of our crew members would argue he was like a dad to all of us.

“You okay?” my fiancée, Molly, asks while flipping down the passenger visor and drawing on a fresh coat of lipstick. She’s trying to be supportive, but there’s an underlying tone in her voice. She’s frustrated with me, and I can't blame her. Since watching Garrett die, I’ve been less and less present. My thoughts steal me away, and I’m constantly distracted.

With my work schedule, the time I have with Molly is short and valuable. We’ve been together since high school, then made a home in Sky Ridge, Washington, so I could chase my dream of fighting wildfires, and Molly found a great school to start her teaching career. In the beginning, things were great, but with each annual fire season that passes, the strain on our relationship grows. Fire assignments are fourteen days at a time, then it’s only a few days at home for R&R before I’m sent somewhere new.

Occasionally, we’ll have projects nearby, which gives us extra time together. She’s my priority when I’m home, but she’s pulling away. And lately, my mind is stuck at work. Every night when I go to sleep, that day plays on repeat in my mind. I have to get through these mental hang-ups, then I can figure out how to fix things at home and we can get back to normal again.

“Yeah,” I lie. “I’ll meet you inside. Just need a minute.”

Sighing, she climbs out of the truck and straightens her dress, then I follow her with my eyes until she vanishes into the house. I gotta get my shit together, or I’ll lose her too.

I’m struggling to gather the courage to walk through the front door of Garrett’s home, where the reception is being held. Eventually, I pop the handle on my truck door and hop out. Closing it, I take a deep breath and an older woman dressed in black falls in stride next to me—Ruth Haggleberg, the town gossip. I’ve been so wrapped up in my thoughts I hadn’t even noticed her and her casserole dish covered in tinfoil.

“Can I help you with that?” I offer.

“Why, thank you!” She passes it to me, and we stroll toward the house. Ruth beams up at me with a cheerful grin. “That wassucha nice funeral.”

Jesus Christ.

Inhaling through my nose, a stiff, tight-lipped smile is all I can offer. “Mm-hm.”

She chatters about all thenicethings said about Garrett during the eulogy, but I’m not listening. I wonder if there’s any tequila left from the bottle King had earlier. We took a few pulls before the funeral service to get us through.

I tuck the casserole into my side when we reach the front steps, then open the front door for her.

“Such a gentleman!” Ruth croons.

She lightly pats the top of my hand and marches ahead of me.

“I’ll bring this to the kitchen for you,” I say before she disappears into the throng of guests. I enter the hall, and weave through the bodies crowding the living area, forging a path to the kitchen, where I not-so-gently deposit the pan onto the counter with a loud thunk. Not sure what the old bird made, but it’s denser than lead.

Turning around, I scan the room for Molly but don’t see her. A few people pass by me, and I step out of their way until I’m leaning against the wall. Then my gaze lands on Xander. I force myself to look at my best friend who I hardly recognize. Grief radiates from him; he’ll never be the same.

It’s as if Xander is hollow inside, gutted by the death of his father, and I was the one who held the knife. The day I had to notify my best friend that his dad died was the worst of my life. It will be a long time before I see the light in my friend again.

“Where’s Molly?” King asks, startling me, then leaning against the wall at my side. He’s my other best friend on the crew, and I appreciate his presence.

“She’s around here somewhere…”

“Probably got cornered by ol’ Ruthie.”

I huff out a small laugh. “Brought in a casserole for that woman—I’ve swung axes that weighed less.”

He shakes his head with a smirk, and we observe the masses while pinned against the wall.

“How are you feeling about the promotion?”

When I first earned my quals for a captain spot, I was ecstatic. The plan was simple. Garrett Macomb was set to retire at the end of the fire season, allowing Xander to take over as IHC Superintendent of the Sky Ridge Hotshots. I’d worked my ass off in preparation for Garrett’s retirement so when Xander moved up, I could replace his role as captain. This promotion was a BFD.

It came with a much-needed pay bump and would allow me to give Molly her dream wedding. We’re on year seven of our engagement; I promised her that wedding, and I’m not marrying her until I can give it to her. On top of that, the salary increase meant we could finally vacate our rental. There’s a fixer-upper I’ve had my eye on since I moved here. The house is in rough shape, but it’s within our budget and has a lot of potential. It might take time to get it there, but with some TLC, I have zero doubt.

Molly and I were thrilled the next phase of our life would start once this promotion happened. However, with Garrett’s death being before the end of season, plans shifted. Now the would-be happy occasion has been marred by the death of our superintendent, and it doesn’t feel like cause for celebration.

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