Page 5 of Protect

Sup’s words return over my thoughts as Jack cries openly across from him. Sup doesn’t have any sons, but he knows what it’s like to lose his dad this way. Fuck, our crew hasn’t even gotten over that loss from a few months ago.

The sliding glass door opens to the waiting room. A doctor and two people with clipboards come through it. They don’t even have to speak for me to know why they’re here. Mae lets out a curdling scream that I’ll never forget as long as I live, and I fall to my knees as they confirm what I already know. He never even saw one full season. Jacob is dead. My best friend is gone and it’s all my fault.

I sit up, drenched in a cold sweat, smacking my knees on the seat in front of me. The buggy taking us back to base is disorientating and in complete contrast from my recurring dream. The mood is electric and celebratory for a bunch of men who haven’t slept in almost twenty-four hours. It’s not very often we’re fighting a fire so close to home.

I pull my phone out. It's already early evening. My mom has texted me three times to check in. Aside from that, no one is worrying about me, but that’s okay. That’s the way I want it. No attachments. Hotshot life doesn’t support relationships, which is why I don’t have any other than my squad. Some of the guys make it work with girlfriends and wives, but it just seems like a fuck ton of work, and I haven’t had a woman hold my interest for more than one night in a really long time.

I look over at Cal, he’s currently sitting across from me texting his girlfriend, Scottie. Never seen him so obsessed with a woman. He’s definitely one of the ones making this relationship thing work. I shake my head and chuckle as I take in the lovesick grin on his face.

Someone has “Back in Black” by ACDC playing. Caleb, a crewmate, is rocking a mean air guitar, Tex, Bobby, and Curly are talking football over the music, and two other crewmates, Dixon and Roycie are arm wrestling. Through all this chaos, I’ve been sleeping, oblivious to the commotion around me.

I try to take a deep breath. The char I feel in my lungs is worth it—we did our job, and once again, Sup was right, and the wind was on our side this time. We managed to mull out a perfect line, good looking enough for Mike Opperman—Opp as we call him—to take a picture.

“Twenty to home,” Sup says over his shoulder to everyone. Some cheers go up.

Christ,home. I’ve barely seen it this month, I can’t wait to shower, eat, and just stretch out on my sofa. I know I’ll be awake for hours. My dreams about Jacob always come in spurts, so for the next few days, every time I close my eyes I’ll see his face just before he headed up that fucking ridge. That vision and the same thoughts of blame rotate through my mind with a vengeance. The memories are like the embers of a fire that aren’t fully extinguished. One gust of guilt and the whole thing tries to roar back to an inferno.

I should’ve gone with him. I should’ve been there. It should’ve been me?—

“You all right?” Cal asks from across the aisle, setting his phone down. I realize as he asks that I’m breathing heavy. I wipe the sweat from my brow.

“Just hard to get Jacob’s face out of my head sometimes,” I tell him, running a hand through my knotted hair.

Cal sighs and looks out the window, a pensive look on his face as he scrubs a hand over the soot covered scruff of his beard.

“Probably always will be, it’s hard to get ahead of that, thank fuck for grief therapy.”

I nod. “Damn right.”

Cal is a man who tells it like it is and doesn’t feel the need to push, and right now I’m grateful for it.

“Hey. We got this one and we’re all whole. One fight at a time, yeah?” he says, his face serious.

“Yeah,” I say, taking a deep breath as the town limit of Sky Ridge comes into view. The land here is so green, so full of life and even though the night is warm, it feels cool after what we just worked through.

Our base is a shit shack—it’s a large, glorified metal pole barn just outside of Sky Ridge but it’s ours. The greenish paint is worn but there’s lots of room for all our equipment and space to hang out. Sup’s field office is here, along with a makeshift kitchen, a pool table, a decent gym, and common areas.

It takes us an hour to unload our gear and change. Sup pats me on the back as I’m hanging up my gear in the open room where all of our lockers line a white cinder block wall. Our motto is painted above them.

Fight for those who can’t. Protect those we can. Honor the ones we’ve lost.

I turn to face him.

“You did good out there this week. You know you’re ready,” he says gruffly.

I nod and feel my body tense, avoiding his eyes.

“King. You’re already doing the job; you might as well get paid for it.”

I turn and pull a fresh black Sky Ridge Hotshots T-shirt from my locker and pull it over my head. I’m still wearing my green Nomex pants from the mountain and my boots.

“Yeah…uh, can this be a tomorrow conversation?” I ask Sup with a smirk.

“It’s been a tomorrow conversation for months.” He levels with me. “Look, I know the idea of an official crew of your own seems like a big responsibility. But we need you and the only wayyou get over it, is totryto get over it.” He lifts a heavy boot up on the bench in front of me and tightens his laces as he talks.

“Cal said you had another dream. I still have them too, we all do. But Jacob knew the risks and he’d tell you just like I am right now that it’s time.He’dwant this.” He gestures to the room of joking, light, and rowdy hotshots. The air in here is almost festive after putting down that line. Normally, I’d be as happy as they are with a job well done, but, fuck, sometimes those dreams take me right back to that moment I let him go.

I put my hands on my hips and look at my sup as he sets his jaw.

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