Burn Zone, page 5
part #1 of Hotshots Series
And that blasted obsession reared its head again as soon as Linc took a seat a few rows ahead of them with Ray and Garrick. His eyes kept drifting over to Linc even as the lecture on basic jump safety procedures started. The instructor kept randomly calling on people mid-talk, just like this one history teacher he’d had in high school. Five other Hartman kids before him, and he alone was the one with the fidgety legs and restless mind that drove teachers crazy. And it wasn’t that he couldn’t pay attention—he could, hyper-focused at times, but other times it was like his brain couldn’t decide which of the nine million pieces of information it was receiving to focus on. He’d taken ADHD meds as a kid, found some focus in martial arts as a teen, but still did best with active, hands-on learning and struggled mightily in a traditional classroom setup. Even McKenna’s PowerPoint wasn’t enough to hold his attention.
“Hartman? Hartman, did you have something to add?”
“I’m sorry. What?” Fuck. From McKenna’s tone, she’d already asked him a question, and it had taken him far too long to realize she was speaking to him and that she needed a reply.
“I asked what you thought about the most important thing to remember for your first jump?”
Oh, hell. His mind went utterly blank, and he glanced around helplessly. He knew this, had reviewed the jump manuals, but such was the curse of his brain under pressure sometimes. As his eyes flitted around the room, they landed on Linc again, whose face was creased with concern.
“Calm,” Linc mouthed. What the heck? He was supposed to calm down? Now? Oh, wait. That was part of the answer. Linc, for whatever reason, was trying to help.
“Stay calm. Don’t panic. Listen to the person you’re tandem jumping with,” he said quickly, brain back online.
“Very good.” She kept frowning at him, though. “Hopefully we’re not putting you to sleep?”
“No, ma’am. I’m listening,” he assured her. And he did try to do a better job for the remainder of the lecture.
On break he wanted to thank Linc for the assist but he was deep in conversation with Ray and Garrick and no way was Jacob pointing out Linc’s help in front of them. They didn’t need another reason to see him as Wyatt’s flaky kid brother.
Linc took a long sip of coffee, and Jacob knew without looking that it was black. He wished that just once he could look at him without remembering. Because maybe Linc had forgotten in a rush of embarrassment and guilt, and months of avoidance to chase Jacob from his mind, but Jacob wouldn’t ever forget, still wasn’t able to drink coffee without remembering what it tasted like on Linc’s lips.
“I need a ride back to my place. Don’t want the dogs going nuts for their dinner.” Linc threw away his paper coffee cup as he came over to where Jacob was standing outside the house. He was embarrassed to have to ask, Jacob could tell by the way his eyes darted away and his ears flushed pink. “I told you this morning that I could drive myself.”
He had, but Jacob honestly hadn’t been sure he’d show up without him dragging him there, and he’d been equally sure that he couldn’t get through this hardest of days without Linc there. Simply sitting next to him shoulder to shoulder in the tightly packed pews had helped. But he wasn’t going to admit that, so he just shrugged. “Mom sent me. And I was right too—the church parking lot was packed.”
They’d arrived early and still had to park at the feed store on the other corner. Every seat was filled with long-distance family, neighbors, people they’d gone to school with, teachers even, and firefighters from all over. Even now, a few hours later, he couldn’t recall a word the preacher had said or remember which sad song his cousin had sung with her guitar. The choir had done “Amazing Grace,” the refrain echoing in his ears as he drove Linc home in silence, neither of them up to small talk after the service followed by the meal in the church hall and then still more food and visitors back at the house, out-of-town mourners lingering.
He didn’t blame Linc one bit for wanting to be done and was actually damn glad for the excuse to head out himself.
“You need a hand with the dogs?” he asked as he turned down Linc’s long gravel drive. It was the shallowest of stalling measures, but now that he was here, moments from being alone with his thoughts, he couldn’t stand it. He had the idea of stopping on the way home, pick up some Jack, ensure he’d sleep at least, but the prospect of more time with Linc was far better than any liquor.
He expected Linc to turn him down, though, didn’t anticipate his sharp nod.
“You might as well come in.” Linc’s voice was resigned. Maybe he was as reluctant to be entirely alone as Jacob was.
The low manufactured home that had been Linc’s dad’s was a humble gray, spruced up a bit by the green porch Linc had added a few years back. Linc bypassed the porch, went around to the back door, which led to a mudroom that gave access to a fenced dog run. As far as Jacob could tell, the dogs had a pretty pampered existence even when Linc was gone—big fluffy beds in the mudroom, plenty of water, and a far more whimsical supply of toys than he would have expected from their stoic owner.
He threw a rubber hamburger for them while Linc changed out the water and dished up some dry kibble. His mom hadn’t had a dog in a few years, and Jacob had missed the canine attention. Kinda like the little kids at the funeral and all the after activities—meeting their immediate needs was grounding.
“Your throwing arm tired yet?” Linc asked with a weary smile. Despite his suit, Jacob had tossed the ball for Junior and his cousins just to escape the house. Too hot from the exertion, he’d left his suit coat in the truck. Linc had taken his off to see to the dogs, shirtsleeves rolled back now.
“Nah,” he said as the dogs ran to their bowls, leaving the two of them alone in the back doorway. He probably needed to head out, but his boots stayed rooted to the spot.
“They got you dusty.” In a surprise move, Linc brushed something off Jacob’s shoulder, putting them face-to-face, inches apart. Linc’s hazel eyes reflected the grief that had dogged Jacob all damn day, an almost visceral, physical ache, a heaviness he couldn’t shake.
“Don’t send me away,” he whispered, putting a hand on Linc’s arm, keeping him there, not that Linc seemed particularly inclined to retreat.
“Can’t.” Their eyes continued to hold, and he wasn’t sure who closed the gap. Maybe him. But suddenly they were embracing, a tight hug.
“Fuck. This is so fucking hard.” His voice was thick, muffled by Linc’s neck, right there. He smelled like the same combo of shampoo and classic aftershave he’d used as long as Jacob could remember and felt so damn solid and real in his arms. Eyes burning, Jacob held on even as Linc pushed him against the wall. “Hurts.”
“I know. Me too. Doesn’t end. Keeps coming.”
“Yeah.” He had to swallow hard, trying to not give in to the tears that had threatened all damn day. And when Linc’s mouth slammed down on his, he welcomed it, water for his parched soul, soaking up the contact, meeting him, desperation for desperation, desire for desire. Linc tasted like the black coffee he’d been downing all day and sweet like the cake foisted on them and like five years of pent-up need. Or maybe that last bit was all Jacob, relief and grief at war in his psyche as he clung to Linc for all he was worth.
Now all he had was the memory of that taste, that need, that desperation. And every time their eyes met, he swore he could see memories of that kiss in Linc’s gaze, heat still flaring between them, brighter than ever. Fuck. Why on earth had he thought that working together would be a simple matter? Seeing Linc like this, every damn day, was going to be torture.
At least he had the hope of being paired with a different crew for the close work. Maybe if he only had to see Linc here and there, in the locker room, at big meetings, it wouldn’t be so bad. And indeed, tuning Linc out, focusing on the hands-on demonstration portion of the pre-jump training was a good call as plenty of important information was shared about all the steps that went into being ready to jump. Planning. Prep. Equipment readiness. Escape plans. Alternate options. Checks. And cross-checks.
Their first jump would be a very straightforward tandem jump, equivalent to a civilian sightseeing leap, none of their extra equipment and such yet, but still the instructors drilled them on each step of the process until a late lunch break. As they sat around the main training room with their food, several of the instructors passed out the afternoon’s agenda and their team/mentor assignments.
“Thank God.” Next to him, Kelley smiled broadly as she looked down at her paper. “McKenna’s crew. You were right. I don’t recognize the other two names, but it’s not Ross. Who’d you get?”
What he saw on his almost made him choke on his sandwich.
“What?” Kelley looked ready to whack him on the back.
“Linc. They gave me Linc.” Oh, fuck.
Chapter Five
“Good. That worked out how I hoped.” Garrick nodded as he folded his assignment sheet, neat creases that would undoubtedly become a bird or rabbit. But Linc was less interested in his origami than his words as he gaped at his own sheet.
“What do you mean? You asked for Jacob?” He shook the paper like that might make it say something other than that Jacob was assigned to him, Garrick and Ray for the season, the higher-ups apparently having decided to slot Jacob right into the spot Wyatt had vacated.
“Well, duh. How are we gonna keep him safe for his mom if we can’t keep an eye on him?” Garrick’s tone said that Linc was an idiot for not thinking of this idea himself. “And we were going to need a fourth, one way or another. Word is that they’re going to move Ray into more of the spotter role for us—keep him on the plane this season, then see about him becoming a foreman next year.”
With each operation, one person always remained on the plane, coordinating the jump from the air, selecting the landing spots, relaying data from jumpers on the ground about wind and terrain factors, dispatching additional jumpers as needed, and coordinating the necessary cargo drop after the jumpers were on the ground. Last season, Ray had been their jumper-in-charge, relaying information from the fire back to dispatch and helping to establish safety zones and escape routes, so moving him to spotter was a natural progression, even if Linc didn’t like it.
“Yeah.” Ray nodded, setting aside his sandwich. “That’s the talk Alder and I had yesterday. I’m getting old.”
“You’re not that old,” Linc protested. Ray had maybe six years on him and Garrick, but Linc didn’t like thinking of any of them as old or washed, even if he felt like it some days.
“I am. Staying fit enough for jump readiness is more and more of a challenge. I don’t want to let you guys down, and management has always been my goal. God knows Betsy wants me off the fire line anyhow. You’ll be jumper-in-charge when it’s the three of you, then follow seniority for the larger operations. It’ll work out, Linc. You’ll see.”
Linc, who had always tried to avoid management, was none too sure. “But Jacob? You guys actually asked for him?”
“Didn’t think you’d have an issue.” Garrick’s forehead creased. “Lord knows you were heated enough about him being here to begin with. And it’s not simply babysitting duty—he’s one of the fittest rookies. Did you see him rattle off his PT test yesterday? He’ll pass the pack-out, no problem, and he’ll pull his weight. Might be nice if he listened a little harder, but we’ll work with him, bust his ass when we need to, same as any other rookie.”
He wished he had even an ounce of Garrick’s confidence in this situation working out. And Jacob was far from any other rookie. Linc didn’t get this terror in his heart over other smoke jumpers, didn’t have the sense of crushing dread, and sure as hell didn’t have inconvenient dreams remembering what they sounded like, tasted like, felt like. Garrick’s approach made a hell of a lot of sense—keep Jacob as safe as they could for his mom—but nothing about how Linc felt toward Jacob made a lick of sense. And while he didn’t exactly relish the idea of Jacob being on a different crew, maybe with people Linc didn’t trust as much as Garrick and Ray, he sure as hell wasn’t up for months of the closest proximity possible.
“Are we going to have a problem?” Ray asked in a low voice. “Alder might let us switch, but...he’s already looking close at you, Linc. Might not want to appear too sensitive right now.”
Fuck. All Linc wanted was to make it through this season. One last season here. The idea of moving on had never been so tempting, get away from everything and start fresh. Damn Jacob. And damn Wyatt too, leaving him in this pickle. And sure, he could quit now, try to catch on with another crew at a different base, but Garrick was right—doing that wouldn’t keep Jacob any safer. At least he and Garrick could manage his load some.
“Nah. Like you said. We’ll make it work.”
“Good. We better decide who’s tandem jumping with him today. Ray, buddy, you probably need the optional PT run more than you need the jump.” Garrick rubbed his hands together, clearly anticipating the airtime. But for a whole host of reasons, none of which had a damn thing to do with Garrick’s jumping ability, Linc didn’t want Garrick strapped to Jacob for the tandem jump.
“I’ll do it,” he said firmly. “You see if Alder will let you jump solo, get you your fix.”
Garrick’s mouth moved like he was going to object, but then he nodded as he stood. “I’ll go try to catch Alder or Sims, talk myself into a spot on one of the planes. You can deal with our rookie.”
He left right as Jacob headed their way, firm tilt to his jaw and stubborn glint in his eyes. He was spoiling for a fight, but Linc wasn’t going to oblige him.
“I’ll take our trash.” Ray quickly scooped up both of their plates and cups before meandering away as Jacob came to stand right in front of Linc.
“So am I going to have to tell them we need a switch or are you?” Jacob glared at him.
“Neither,” Linc said evenly. “Have a seat, Rook.”
“You asked for this?” Anger flared in Jacob’s eyes even as he complied and took the seat Garrick had vacated. “Think I can’t hack it on my own? Think I need you and your crew playing guardian angel all season?”
“Simmer down. No, I didn’t ask for this.” He didn’t rat out Garrick, though, wouldn’t do that to a buddy. “But we’ll deal, you and I. We don’t want folks saying there’s bad blood between us. Don’t need that kind of gossip. And you know damn well I’m no one’s guardian angel.”
“Says you.” Jacob all but rolled his eyes at him. But then, that was always part of Jacob’s appeal, the way he insisted on seeing the best in Linc, even at his worst.
“It’s not your fault, Linc.” Jacob’s voice was raw but firm as he put his arm around Linc. “You did everything you could. I believe that. Mom believes that. May believes that. Only one doubting you is you.”
“You weren’t out there.”
“Didn’t have to be. I know you. This isn’t on you. Ray and Garrick, they said it was an accident. That’s good enough for me. Jump gone bad. Made worse by the fire and wind conditions. None of that’s on you.”
“I was the one who cross-checked his rig. Like I’d done so many times...” His voice went weak as his eyes burned.
“I know. Sometimes things happen.” Jacob rested his head against Linc’s.
The warmth of his skin and his words seeped into Linc’s soul, burrowing beneath the layer of ice that had formed over his heart in the past seventy-two hours. “Wish I could believe you.”
And even now, he still wished he had Jacob’s faith in his own goodness. God, this was going to be a long damn summer, him so certain he was going to fail at the one thing that mattered now—keeping Jacob safe—and Jacob so darn sure that he could do no wrong.
“You’ll listen to us.” He got that Jacob had wanted this for years, that he was proud of his skills, that he’d earned the right to be here, but he still wasn’t convinced this wasn’t some big adrenaline rush for him. “That’s all that matters. Not any...history between us. What matters is if we can count on you, if we can be a decent team.”
“You can count on me.” Jacob nodded, meeting his eyes with a seriousness that Linc didn’t usually associate with him. “I mean it. And I’ll listen. This morning...you know me, right? Lectures and classrooms and me don’t always mix. But out there? I’ll pay attention. Count on it.”
“I get it. And trust me, I wasn’t much better in school.” Linc had to laugh because he knew Jacob’s ADHD had given him a tough row to hoe, but he hadn’t been much more popular with teachers himself, what with his dad’s parental shortcomings and his own distaste for reading and being cooped up indoors. “Trust us and we’ll trust you and the rest will work itself out.”
He tried to sound like he believed that, tried to find confidence that this would be anything other than an utter disaster as the group came back together after lunch.
“I get to go!” Garrick crowed as he sat back down with them. “Sims said I can demonstrate proper plane exiting procedure when not in a tandem. Woohoo!”
“What was that you were saying about no thrill seeking?” Addressing only Linc in a whisper, Jacob raised an eyebrow. “All serious business, right?”
He had to shift in his chair because Jacob had him there. “Never said you can’t take satisfaction in the work where you find it.”
