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ALMOST 6 YEARS AGO

“You think he knew his time was up?” My best friend, Jacob, leans into me as he asks so no one else will hear him.

Such a loaded question pulls my attention from the multiple scuff marks on my boots. I scrubbed them as clean as I could last night. I was hell bent on getting them spotless for my sup. Myformersup.

Fuck.There’s nothing like swallowing the heaviness of that reality down.

“Don’t know, man, but he went out like a hero,” I answer somberly, taking a pull from a half empty bottle of tequila and passing it to Jacob. I don’t normally make a habit of drinking in the middle of the morning—none of us do, but it’s gonna takeeverything we have just to walk through those funeral home doors.

“Twelve weeks,” my new captain, Callahan–Cal– says, shaking his head in disbelief.

“Just the rest of this season and he would’ve retired.”

Cal looks like hell. We all do. Superintendent Garret Macomb, our sup, was our mentor, our leader, our friend; and now he’s just fucking gone. His old plaid jacket is still hanging on the hook at our base and he’s never coming back to claim it.

I swipe the bottle back from Jacob and take another much-needed pull from it to stop the sting at the bridge of my nose. The tequila burns the back of my throat, but it’s a burn I welcome.

The steady flow of cars and trucks through the rain seems never-ending, turning into the parking lot as my squad talks around me.

“Laney says there’s a reason for everything. I say that’s a pile of bullshit. Where was this rain last week? There’s no reason for any of this,” Jacob says, brushing the misty droplets from his sleeves.

We all wore our uniforms today—standard green Nomex pants and our yellow wildland fire shirts. We stand out in the crowd of dark suits and dresses but it’s how we show our solidarity and respect.

“That’s your girlfriend’s job. She’s just trying to make you feel better, trying to help,” Cal says to him, patting him on the shoulder, already acting like our captain.

Jacob nods, fighting back tears. He’s been my best friend since middle school, and I’ve only seen him cry once aside from now.

“Sup would have your heads for drinking at eleven a.m. over him, boys,” Jacob’s dad, Jack, says as he locks his truck behind him with a remote. He’s a twenty-year vet and a squad leader with our crew. He’s got more salt than pepper in his hair now buthe’s still a strong man. Jacob says he’s thinking of retiring at the end of this season; he just wants to work at least one full summer with his son.

Jack’s wife, Mae, walks in step beside him carrying a sympathy card. Her long dark hair is pulled back in a bun and it’s obvious she’s been crying. I scan the parking lot, knowing if Jack and Mae Taylor are here, my biggest regret isn’t far behind them.

“How’s Molly, honey?” Mae asks Cal, giving him a motherly hug. Jack and Mae own the local barShifty’sthat we all hang out at more often than we should. Between that and basically growing up at their house, they’ve become like pseudo parents to all of us over the years.

“She’s good, she’s in there somewhere.” Cal forces a small smile, gesturing to where his fiancée is inside.

I glance out at the mountains through the rain and listen to the group’s chatter for a few minutes, forcing the last image I have of Sup from my mind for the thousandth time; he was sitting on the ridge, stuffing a turkey sandwich into his mouth like any other lunch break, laughing and cracking jokes, his eyes crinkling up into little crescent moons the way they did. I take another sip from the bottle of Patron and then pour a little out onto the grass beside us for the man that taught me everything I know.

Miss you already, ya sturdy fucker.

We’re hotshots, wildland firefighters. Death and injury are expected in our line of work but that doesn’t mean it isn’t hard as hell to say goodbye. For today, tequila seems to be making this a little more bearable.

I take my final pull from the bottle at the precise moment I hear her smoky voice. Of course, I’m the one standing out here drinking mid-morning when she approaches.

“Never seen you boys so clean,” she says to all of us as she steps up onto the curb, her pretty face still hidden by the blackumbrella she carries, the ends of her long, honey brown hair are visible from under the brim.

I turn fully toward her, straightening up and passing the bottle to my crewmate, Caleb.

Violette Mae Taylor, Jacob’s fraternal twin sister, looks stunning and somber in a black dress that fits her to perfection. It falls to her knees, tapering in at her small waist. The sleeves are long and cuffed at the wrist, and the neck is high, but it doesn't conceal that gorgeous body enough to stop me from swallowing.Hard.

Her light hazel eyes flit to mine, then quickly look away.

“King,” she greets quickly. I wince.

Once upon a time, I used to be Rowan.

Her coconut scent fills my senses as she breezes right by me, smiling for the other guys, but not for me. It’s been a long time since I’ve been on the receiving end of that pretty smile.

Violette hugs Cal and says something to him low enough that we can’t hear before turning to face the rest of the crew to say her hellos. The ones who have known her a long time hug her as she gives her condolences.

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