Burn Zone, page 21
part #1 of Hotshots Series
But not enough? Truth was, Jacob was everything. Everything Linc could ever want. Ever hope for. And more than he deserved. More than he’d get to keep. Too much, maybe. But not enough? Never. He was the embodiment of Linc’s heart and—
Fuck. He was Linc’s heart, and Linc had squashed him, sure as he had that tomato plant. The hurt was there, open and undisguised, in Jacob’s eyes. But fuck it. Linc didn’t know the first thing about how to heal it. Some things simply stayed broken, no easy solution. Giving Jacob everything he wanted might be the worst thing for him, and Linc simply didn’t know how to reconcile his urge to give in with his duty to protect him. You’re doing a bang-up job of that, Reid. He hadn’t been able to save Jacob from this pain, a guilt he’d carry to his grave.
But still he stood there, tethered to the spot. If only he could believe he was worthy of Jacob, that being together might not cost Jacob more than he should have to give. Then he might march over there and...
And what? Did it even matter? Because he wasn’t and he wouldn’t. But hell, how he wanted.
* * *
Somehow Jacob broke the sad symphony his eyes were busy conducting with Linc and returned his attention to Garrick, who had stopped him to make sure he was okay. Which he wasn’t. But he could pretend. Could smile and nod and act like this was just a temporary blip, nothing worth getting upset over. Could deny that there was anything between him and Linc, not that Garrick seemed inclined to believe him. But Jacob could insist, could dig in his heels, could repeat again that he wasn’t hurt or offended. Could brush off Garrick’s concern.
But later, alone at his locker, his muscles trembled with the effort of holding it all together. Faking it was damn hard work. As was ignoring Linc. God, if only one look had gutted him, how was he going to make it through a whole shift? Linc had looked like shit, which wasn’t helping anything. Deep lines around his facial features and tired eyes said he’d possibly slept even less than Jacob had. Misery had rolled off him, thick waves of regret and guilt, which served no purpose. This was Linc’s damn fault, what he’d wanted. If he were miserable, then good.
Except for the part where Jacob had wanted to run to him, make him feel better, but hell if he even knew how to do that. By getting the most stubborn man on the planet to reconsider his stance? Not happening. And Jacob had his pride too. He wasn’t going to beg Linc to feel something he didn’t.
Merely thinking about him seemed enough to conjure him as he sensed Linc come into the locker room, large frame lurking far too close. Head bowed, he stood in front of his locker, making no move to start changing.
“I think Sims will have a jump for us sooner rather than later,” Garrick said, already in the first layer of his gear. They’d add the heavier protective gear right before they jumped. “Jimenez and his crew deployed at dawn. McKenna’s is on deck next. We’ll be up soon. I’m going to see if Ray’s clocked in yet.”
“Sounds good.” If Jacob was smart, he’d go with him, but he couldn’t seem to make his muscles move faster.
“You might want to hit the coffee hard.” Garrick clapped Linc on the shoulder. “You look like deer droppings, man.”
Linc muttered something that sounded pretty close to “fuck off,” but Garrick paid him no mind, laughing on his way out of the nearly empty room. Someone was showering in the far corner, but otherwise it was only them, left staring at each other, strangers who could have been everything.
“He’s right. You do look awful. You gonna be okay for the shift?” Despite everything, Jacob still found himself being the first one to speak, concern seeping into his voice despite his best efforts to sound detached.
“I’m fine.” Linc didn’t put any force behind the words, hardly sounded like he believed himself.
“Liar.”
“Like you’d know.” Shaking his head wearily, Linc rolled his shoulders. “And like you’re in any better shape.”
“Actually, yes I would.” He ignored Linc’s second claim. “I know you far better than you seem to want to give me credit for.”
Linc visibly deflated at that, upper body curving in. “I know. Damn it.”
His voice was pained, as if their very closeness was a wound or maybe a shortcoming he was trying to get over. And Jacob took umbrage at that, drawing himself up taller.
“You don’t have to sound so offended. It doesn’t have to be a bad thing.” He liked knowing Linc. Liked knowing that there were stories that maybe only he had heard, sides of him that few others got to see. But now instead of special, it simply made him more frustrated. “That’s all on you.”
“Yeah, it is.” Linc groaned then, scrubbing at his head. “Fuck, I hate this.”
“Me too, but again—”
“It’s on me. I know. Trust me, I know. And I’m sorry. So fucking sorry. This isn’t how I wanted things to go at all. You hurt is the last thing I wanted.”
Am I not enough? The question roared in his head again. Want. How silly. If Linc wanted, none of this would have been an issue.
“Pretty words, Linc. I almost believe you.”
“What do you want from me?” Linc wrenched off his shirt, tats rippling. He shoved his clean clothes in the locker, but didn’t pull out his gear.
“I told you already. Everything.” On that, Jacob wasn’t going to budge. He was done settling for scraps and almosts. Almost a date. Almost a couple. Almost love. Forget it. Forget all of it.
“I’m sorry.” This time Linc whispered it, more anguish behind the words, but all it did was enrage Jacob. This was all so fucking needless.
“If you’re going to be sorry, mean it, damn it. Put some action behind it. Show me. Otherwise it’s as pointless as—”
“Sims says be ready for—Whoa. How are you guys still not ready?” Garrick burst back into the room.
“Sorry. Give me five.” Sighing, Linc started pulling on gear.
Effectively dismissed, Linc’s answer plain as a Vegas billboard, Jacob did the same and somehow they were ready at the hangar in time to finish gearing up and to check their cargo.
Garrick did his cross-check instead of Linc, hands impersonal as he checked Jacob’s parachute rigging. Once on the airstrip, waiting for the plane, Linc shifted his weight from foot to foot, standing apart from the rest of them, looking like he was one stiff breeze away from rattling apart. Or possibly puking.
Damn it. Jacob hated himself for caring and hated the situation for making them so reliant on each other right when space was what they probably needed. Distance. Perspective. Anything other than this helpless caring. Finally, he couldn’t stand it anymore. Pacing over to Linc, he stared him down.
“What the fuck is your problem?”
“Nothing. Just...you sure your connection points are good? That one buckle...”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” Because of course that was it. Of course Linc cared, even though he didn’t want to. Of course it was concern over Jacob making him so agitated. Damn it. This would all be so much easier if Linc didn’t care so deeply. Defeated, Jacob stretched his arms out. “Go ahead. Check me over. Better safe than...”
“Sorry.” They both whispered the word in unison, and something passed between them as Linc did his cross-check. Not forgiveness precisely, but an understanding maybe. A shared regret. Despite everything, they still had that shared grief, always would, Wyatt tying them together even as his memory continued to shove them apart.
“Plane’s coming in,” Garrick shouted. Finishing his check, Linc moved away, emotion etched on his face.
“Fire’s kicking up. Fucking wind,” Ray said as they regrouped together. His shrewd gaze said he hadn’t missed the tension between them. “Gonna be a tricky one. Need our heads about us. All of us.”
Jacob nodded even as he tried to ignore the gnawing in his stomach. He hadn’t prayed in years, but right then, all he wanted was to survive the shift, nothing else to go wrong.
Chapter Nineteen
The plane headed into the smoky sky, a familiar route which should have calmed Linc down, but somehow today the smoke seemed that much more ominous. The combination of unseasonably warm and dry and windy made the fire hard to predict and far more dangerous for all involved. Their assignment would involve some digging of hand line, and for all he was mixed up, he was glad Jacob was on their crew as he’d already proven himself capable of digging line to keep back fire like a machine.
And Linc had no doubt that Jacob could turn off all that anger and be professional in the field, be that mechanical firefighting machine. He hadn’t wanted Linc’s apologies, had been, if anything, even angrier than last night. Put some action behind it. Damn it, what was Linc supposed to do? He’d been close to grabbing Jacob, hauling him in for a kiss when Garrick had interrupted, but that would have been just as pointless as his words. Bottom line was that he simply couldn’t give Jacob what he thought he most wanted, and that fucking sucked. For all of them.
The plane made a practice pass, approaching the drop zone, allowing them to recheck the winds, then circling back to drop the cargo away.
“Gotta trust this weather holds,” Garrick shouted as they deployed the cargo.
Something about the way he said trust made the word linger in Linc’s brain. He wasn’t much good at trusting these days. He’d trusted his mom to stick around forever, and then the universe had taken her way too soon. Ditto his brother. Ditto Wyatt. And he had too many years of experience to ever trust a fire. Too many times where he’d done everything right and it still all went to shit to trust anything, let alone something as mercurial as wind conditions.
But you trust Jacob. Unbidden, memories of the night of Jacob’s birthday slammed into him. He did trust Jacob, on a fundamental level that went far beyond the physical. When Jacob had told him it wasn’t his fault Wyatt had died, he’d listened. It had taken months to internalize it, and he still struggled with guilt, but he’d listened far more than he would to any other person. Jacob’s unwavering belief in him mattered.
Maybe you gave your word to the wrong guy? Jacob’s years-old question dug into him as surely as a too-snug piece of webbing, burrowed under his flesh to the places where he’d tried to bury both doubts and longing. And if he had...well, what the fuck was he supposed to do with that sort of misgiving?
“Ready?” Ray’s shout came from behind him before he could come to any good conclusions.
No. Nerves he hadn’t had since before Jacob’s first solo jump careened into him, out of place and totally unexpected. Jumping like this, leaving both too much unsaid and too much aired between them, felt wrong. But there was no time to regroup, no time even to panic, just to—
Trust Jacob. And there it was again. He had to trust that Jacob could handle the jump, that he wasn’t too distracted to pull it off. And then he had to trust himself. Maybe if he could do those two things, everything else would fall into place.
And as he leaped on cue, he summoned every piece of his years of training and muscle memory, and he trusted as they flew out over the ashy sky, smoke stinging even through his goggles and gear. As was often the case, the landing zone was tiny, precision of utmost importance as they descended, aiming for a sliver of a narrow dirt road that they’d later use for packing out.
“It’s your only good way out.” Ray’s voice crackled over his headset. “Creek to the south, but we’re hoping to have you out well before we lose road access. Ground crews are having a devil of a time with this wind.”
“Understood.” Linc was no stranger to situations like this one, with no good plan B. He’d also seen what appeared to be the only option morph and change over the course of hours on the ground, had made hard choices relying on the current plan only for it to change in a matter of moments. So Ray’s words didn’t make him panic, but they did make him think about life and roads and how what looked like a path sometimes wasn’t and how “no way out” could be a personal challenge. Sometimes one got out when they could, other times they waited for a better plan to materialize, and sometimes...
Well, sometimes a guy just fucking made his own luck. Refused to accept defeat. Took the damn creek if that was what it took. Was he really ready to toss Jacob away because there didn’t seem to be a good path forward? Was he going to spend the rest of his life knowing he wasn’t worthy or was he willing to fight for a sliver of a chance that maybe, just maybe he could be? Something had to give, that much was clear, but as he came in for a landing, for the first time he was willing to entertain the possibility of another way out of this mess they were in.
Thump. Bump. Roll. More of that muscle memory kicked in for a safe, if bumpy, landing. The wind conditions meant that they’d landed a fair distance downwind from each other, but it didn’t take long to regroup. And then they were in the thick of it, no more room for deep thoughts, only working quickly at retrieving the cargo, getting their shovels and saws and remaining gear and getting a move on with digging their assigned lines. It was hard, dirty, smoky work that left his muscles burning and his attention focused on the job at hand.
He did, however, keep more to himself, less on Jacob’s case about little details, and something surprising happened. The more he worked that whole trust thing and didn’t nag or rush to do a task for Jacob, the less Jacob dug his heels in and the more he actually listened to him and Garrick when they did speak. Maybe he wasn’t the stubborn kid Linc kept trying to paint him as. And if he wasn’t that—
“Heads up!” Garrick stopped him from letting introspection back in by tossing brush near where he was working. On the comm set, there was a lot of chatter about changing wind conditions.
“Might need you to cut short if the wind shifts again. If the fire heads down the valley, we’ll need to get you out in a hurry.” Ray was back at the base, working with the fire command to determine the scope of their assignment. The priority was to strategically fell several trees, and they moved on to that with renewed haste. The air was smokier now, the risk of raining embers growing as the fire moved closer.
The normally still forest was loud both with the sounds of their work and crashing burning snags in the distance, signaling that the command had been right about the shifting fire. In the air, more planes flew low, both with more jumpers for other drop zones and with loads of retardant to dump on the fire itself.
While working on the second tree, a warning alert sounded on the radio.
“We’re extracting all crews along your line,” the comm set announced right as several almighty cracks sounded.
Linc looked up to see several widowmaker branches headed right for where Jacob was crouched, bringing Garrick, who had been in the tree, down with them.
“Move!” Linc yelled, even as he was already diving for Jacob, shoving him out of the way. And then everything blurred together, a spectacular concert of swift movement and crushing pain.
“Jacob!” he called, but his ears rang too loudly to tell if he’d actually shouted. And had he saved him? Was he too late? Too late for both of them? God, he hoped not, his last conscious thought a prayer that Jacob be okay.
* * *
“Move!” Linc’s shout reached Jacob almost simultaneously with an ominous cracking from above and a godawful yell from Garrick. And then Linc’s body, all his considerable bulk, was crashing into Jacob, shoving him several feet back as pine needles and debris rained down on them, branches and Garrick hitting the ground with sickening thuds.
“Garrick! Linc!” Fuck. Jacob’s wrist hurt from hitting the ground weird, mud was dripping down his face because his helmet was askew, and his ears rang, like he’d taken a roundhouse kick to the chin. But he was relatively unscathed while the other two were sprawled on the ground, and he didn’t know who to run to first.
Think. He needed to think. Evaluate. Assess. Neither man had answered him, the sound of his own pulse roaring above the forest noise as his heart clamored for him to rush to Linc first. However, he started with Garrick—he was closer, and also Jacob wasn’t sure he trusted himself to keep a clear head if Linc was bad. He had to pick branches and debris off Garrick to get a better look, including a heavy one off his legs that strained his aching wrist. Fuck. This wasn’t good.
But Garrick’s helmet was still on. Seriously dented, but on. Legs... Deep breath. Stay calm. The worst of the debris had landed there, and it wasn’t pretty. But Jacob forced himself to focus on one task at a time, checking for a pulse while trying not to jostle him too much.
“Come in?” He rushed to make contact with the command center via his comm set.
“Go ahead, Hartman.” Ray’s voice was filled with static, but relief still swamped Jacob, made it so that he had to swallow hard before continuing.
“We’ve got a situation here. Garrick Nelson just fell from a tree. Nasty drop. We’re going to need a medical evac for him ASAP. He’s breathing, but...” Hold it together, he reminded himself, pausing for another breath. “It’s bad, man. And Reid’s hurt too.”
“Hartman?” The comm set crackled again. “Did you hear the last order? We’re pulling crews all along your line. We needed your crew heading to the extraction point.”
“You’re not listening.” Some panic started to seep into his voice. “No way is Garrick walking out of here. His legs... We need a C-collar and a backboard and—”
“Understood. We’re working on an alternative plan. Stand by. What’s Reid’s status?”
Okay. No choice but to go investigate. He held his breath as he stumbled to Linc, who—
