Page 96 of Ignite

And the mad hawk insignia with such intricate detail that I could look at it for days and not get bored even though right now I imagined the hawk talons ripping out my heart.

I wanted to forget the smell of her hair as she’d lain across my chest.

I needed my body to be so demolished by exercise, that my brain refused to work.

Yep, the beep test would be a start.

We made it to 7.5 before Bailey threw up everything he’d eaten since last Christmas. It was a sight.

“No!” I ordered, when he went to rinse his mouth with water.

“What?”

“Enjoy the taste of it.” I laughed, but not losing a beat in running with the team. I could do this beep test all day, I hoped. “Anyone who brings their pussy game to my training can learn to swallow.”

“Like a bitch?” he sneered.

“If that makes you a bitch, then swallow hard.”

I was being such an ass.

One by one they all fell. Until it came down to Reece and me.

The guys were begrudgingly giving me the respect that my position deserved, but I hadn’t earned, until today.

“Time?” I looked to Reece. We could both wear each other down or go out as equals.

“Yeah, but you owe me a beer.”

“Sure.”

By the time we joined the team, snippets of conversation grated on my conscious.

“…back-burning …”

“… hazard reduction not enough ...”

“… looks like … bringing in planes to drop fire retardant …”

“… fucking wind change ...”

“Is it too early to call it a firestorm?”

Seriously, I thought my farmer uncles were obsessed with weather reports, until I met firefighters.

Yeah, I’d heard the news reports for the last week. Blah, blah, blah, escalating fire risk. Blah, blah, blah, extreme caution. Each time I turned on the radio, there were reminders for everyone to have their evacuation plan ready and contingencies in place. Oh, with a side of guilt-tripping all healthy people over the age of sixteen to volunteer.

Blah, blah, fucking, blah.

I was getting my breath back, ready to start on medicine ball arm work, when the door swung open, sending clanging echoes reverberating through the school gym.

I knew it was Rylee because all eyes shot to her, then to me, and back to the door.

“Five minutes. Grab the medicine balls and partner up.”

Rylee didn’t need to be here. But here she was.

Rylee pulled to a stop five meters inside the door. My brain wanted to send her packing, but the rest of me drank in the woman who could stop traffic. Standing still in cute baggy overalls in a green more commonly associated with the Australian Army, and a long sleeve blue flannel shirt, Rylee wasn’t dressed to impress. But she did.

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