Page 8 of Control Freak
“No.” I’m short of breath, but the knot in my lungs needs release. “I’m not a firefighter anymore, but I used to be.” I swallow back the fear that’s kept me a prisoner of my own making for the last seven years. “The guy in the photo with me is Mitch. He was my best friend.”
Isla moves closer, crisscrossing her legs until her knees touch my thigh. “Was?”
“Yeah. He’s dead now, and it’s all my fault.”
Chapter Seven
Isla
I’m not sure what to think. Beck is silent for a long time, which isn’t that abnormal from what I’ve observed, but the tension in the air is different. “Do you want to talk about it?”
“No.” He says, then turns to me. His dark green eyes hold a sadness that explains so much about his current situation. “But I need to talk about it.”
“Okay.”
“Mitch and I were in the same brigade, but we’d known each other much longer. We grew up together here in the mountains.” Beck lets out a longer exhale than I thought was humanly possible. “It had been a grueling season. Wildfires were spreading, and we were exhausted, but we were also motivated. We were out there saving lives and doing the good work.” I nod, not wanting to interrupt.
“After nearly a solid month of high-stakes situations, we were both dehydrated, hungry, and running on fumes. Then one day, a rookie panicked on the ridge line. Mitch wanted to send her back to the base, but I overruled it.”
Beck shakes his head, his pain radiating right through me. “I fucking said no. I overruled him because I wanted to cut this rookie some slack. She wanted to prove herself. So, Ibent for mercy. I broke my own rule so she could come out feeling heroic.” His eyes pinch shut. “But then the rookie got disoriented, and it was Mitch who went after her. I begged him not to, but he wouldn’t listen.”
I’m afraid to move. To breathe. To change anything in the air that would stop the story he so desperately needs to tell.
“So, neither one of them made it back, and that’s my fault. That’s on me.”
“Beck.” My fingertips land on his forearm. He flinches, but doesn’t attempt to shoo them away.
“I let go of logic and let my emotions get in the way, and lost my best friend and a woman with her whole life ahead of her because of it.”
“It wasn’t your fault.”
“It was.”
“Beck. You didn’t make Mitch go back in for her.”
“If I just would’ve followed protocol. Rules are made for a reason, logic over emotion.” He bows his head, bringing his hands to his face. My body moves on instinct, cradling him in my arms. This big, wounded man is carrying around the guilt of something that essentially was out of his hands.
He lets me hold him in silence. I rub his back, feeling his taught muscles through his thin t-shirt.
“Thank you for telling me that.” I whisper, waiting for the energy to shift. Wondering if it will.
He finally lifts his head, and there’s a light in his eyes I haven’t yet seen. “I haven’t told anyone that story since I left the job. I just sit here. Waiting for things to get better. Hoping that by controlling everything, I’ll feel nothing.”
I press a soft kiss on the fabric of his t-shirt. His muscular arm is warm against my lips. “I’m so sorry that happened to you.”
“Me too.”
“I mean it.” Our faces are so close. He presses his forehead against mine. “That is a horrible situation, and a horrible feeling to live with.” He nods. My heart races, I want to kiss him so badly, but I feel like he’s too raw and too vulnerable. Would it just be taking advantage of his pain?
“Isla, I’m really glad you’re here.” He says, his breath tickling my face. “I mean, it’s been kind of a pain in the ass.” I pull back slightly, laughing, grateful he’s eased the tension. “But I didn’t realize how sad and lonely I’ve been until you showed up, slipping and sliding down my driveway.”
“I’ll never live it down.” I close my eyes.
“Probably not.” He teases.I have three or four stupid jokes I could tell to diffuse the situation, but instead I opt to sit in the moment.
“In a weird way, I’m glad that the storm came when it did.”
“Yeah?” Beck licks his lips. God, this man is the most beautiful human ever made. “Why’s that?”
