Page 32 of Only Ever You
She blinked, her brow creasing with worry as she whispered, “Okay.”
“It’s my job.”
Luna sashayed through my thoughts over the following days. I loved my job. I truly did. The wilderness of Alaska was where I felt most at home. It was nature’s cathedral and mine. Whenever I was out in the wilderness, I knew there was something greater than humanity. I felt it in my bones.
When the wind blew, birds called, trees rustled, and fire blazed, I felt connected to something so much more than myself. I felt like a speck in the universe. I loved that feeling, and I loved my crew. The kinship of being connected to each other and counting on each other, protecting both the wilderness and anyone in harm’s way from a fire, was a powerful force.
Even with all of that, for the first time since I’d become a hotshot firefighter, there was an ache in my heart. I missed Luna, something fierce. The memory of that night with her, and those moments before I left, was a warm ember in my heart, something I held onto. Tangled within that was a hint of doubt and worry. Intellectually, I didn’t have much faith in the concept of commitment. Not for myself.
Way back when I’d gotten in trouble, my probation officer had set me up with a therapist. That was part of the deal with being on probation and staying out of trouble. My therapist had tried to talk to me about my feelings about my mom, which could be best summed up as “fuck her.”
She’d dumped me when I was just a kid. I loved my dad, and he had totally stepped up to the plate. My therapist had gently pointed out that I might have some issues with feeling abandoned and not having faith in others to be there when it mattered. Specifically women, because of what my mom had done.
But this was Luna, the girl I’d met all those years ago on a pebbled beach in Alaska. I felt safe and comfortable with her. Every time those doubts tried to clamber up and make noise, I swatted them away.
Our crew was dealing with a massive fire that had exploded and grown rapidly in size. Alaska had another dry summer and was still dealing with the aftermath of years of spruce bark beetle kill. Those beetles that had landed in Alaska via overseas shipping and decimated swaths of forest, leaving behind dead trees just waiting to catch fire. We did our best with signs and prohibitions on campfires in certain areas, but people were people. This fire appeared to have been started by some hikers who decided to have a campfire. Nights were cold this time of year, but that was a bad fucking plan.
A branch fell, and I barely dodged it. Glancing over my shoulder, I caught Hudson’s eyes. “What the hell, man?” I called, flashing a smile.
We were working our way through, cutting down dead spruce trees. They were dry as a bone. The whole crew was stretched out along this line in the forest. It was a section of the forest that had been logged, probably a few decades prior. This part of Alaska was in the central part of the state. As the crow flew, we were a few hours north of Willow Brook. It was a premier area for hunting and fishing.
Several hours later, with the sound of chainsaws finally off, we gradually made our way to a fire stand. These stands were monitored by volunteers and park staff. An alert volunteer had reported this fire. With most of Alaska sparsely populated, the wilderness was vast enough to get lost in. Beside this outlook post was a convenient cabin, occasionally used for hunting, but for us it was a place to shelter for the night. Between the fire outlook and the cabin, we didn’t have to sleep outside.
Although by most standards, the rustic shelter would be considered rough camping. With Graham and Jonah organizing us, we got our gear propped up, checked on the status of our various tools, and plunked down to scramble up some food for the evening.
“What’s on the menu tonight?” Griffin asked. He was seated on the ground, leaning against a boulder.
Our crew had a good vibe. Graham and Jonah were superintendents, and they both had an easygoing but authoritative approach. Firefighting took nerve and confidence. Sometimes that meant people being total assholes, but that was not the leadership here. It was organized, confident, and clear. Graham, who’d been superintendent the longest for this crew, didn’t tolerate any bullshit. He was respected by all of us, along with Jonah and everyone on the crew.
“We have a pretty good perimeter, so we can use our camp stove,” Jonah commented.
Smoke shimmered in a haze in the sky in the distance. We’d been managing this fire for days now. That was the life of a hotshot. We worked collectively with help from planes and helicopters flying above and dropping fire retardant and water. After we’d all tossed out our food options, we settled on freeze-dried mashed potatoes with beef jerky and a dessert of granola bars. Most of us rested against fallen down logs or our packs, chatting casually while we ate.
“Do you know if Tate has any cabins available?” Graham asked me before taking a bite of his granola bar.
I shrugged. “Come winter, the one beside me will be available. Why do you ask?”
Graham thumbed toward Kincaid, one of the newer guys who’d joined our crew. “Kincaid needs a place. He’s staying temporarily at one of the short-term rentals through Wildlands, but he needs a longer-term place.”
I caught Kincaid’s eye. “I’ll check on it. Tate says he prefers to do long-term rentals for locals.”
Kincaid flashed a smile. “That’d be awesome. Have I met Tate?”
“Maybe? His crew has been out for the last two weeks. This is your first fire with us, right?”
Kincaid nodded. “Yep. Can’t beat this view.” He lifted his hand, gesturing forward.
“As long as it’s not on fire,” Jonah chimed in.
I chuckled. “But that’s what we do. We make the fire go away and enjoy the view while we’re at it.” I took a bite of mashed potatoes.
“You know these are damn good.” Hudson glanced at me, waggling his brows. “I gotta give you some credit. We went fromplain instant mashed potatoes to mashed potatoes with beef jerky and spices.”
I grinned. “We need some protein. We worked our asses off today.”
Conversation drifted along. When we were offering Kincaid background info on Willow Brook and the surrounding areas, he asked, “So, how bad is winter? People keep warning me to be ready. I’m from Northern Minnesota, so I think I should be able to handle it.”
“Oh, you’ll be fine,” Graham said. “The southcentral part of Alaska is no colder than northern Minnesota. We probably get less snow than you did there. Might be a little longer and darker, but it’s not like the Northern part of Alaska where they don’t see the sun for a few months and it’s brutally cold the whole time.”
