Chapter 8
Reuben had sifted through many a charred forest during his years as a firefighter. Usually, however, he did it while garbed up with gloves and armed with his Pulaski and his water canister to douse any remaining pockets of heat.
And never while crying.
His eyes ran, his nose thick with mucus, and he wanted to sink down into the ashy moonscape and howl. Let his grief ricochet off the blackened, skeletal remains of once bushy pine, formerly fragrant balsam fir. He kicked the ash at his feet, searching for anything—
He didn’t know what was worse, the idea of finding Gilly’s charred body or simply hoping she died quickly, the noxious air burning her lungs, suffocating her before the fire could burn her alive.
Oh, God, no, please.
Reuben longed for the febrile hope that she’d somehow made it out.
But he’d seen the fire, the mushroom cloud of black smoke that evidenced a fire frustrated, stunted.
Angry.
The kind of fire routed by the ravine and thus settled down to burn hot and thick, fighting its demise.
The forest still sizzled, smoke a ghoul as it moved in and out of the trees, searching for the unburnt.
He’d gladly commandeered Rudini’s bike, shouldering it as he fled down the mountain. He hit the path and climbed on, grateful for the thick mountain wheels as he pedaled hard.
He should have flown off the mountain, broken something, but maybe God had heard his pleading, because Reuben had managed to muscle the bike over boulders, stay on the path, and find the bend where he’d emerged from the forest.
From there, he’d dropped the bike and begun to run.
He didn’t remember much of the three-plus miles through the woods. He landed hard on the soft, loamy earth, turned his ankle a few times, slammed into tree limbs, hurtled boulders, and fell at least once with enough force to knock out his breath.
It barely slowed him, the smell of resin under fire igniting him.
He hit the ravine—he guessed it took him maybe an hour, but it felt like an eternity—and the moonscape of forest stopped him cold.
No one could have lived through the inferno.
He spied his rope downstream, burned, wrapped around a submerged tree.
“Gilly!” He’d let his voice echo into the air, closed his eyes, and leaned hard on his knees, listening.
Just the wind in his ears, the rasping of his breath.
The howl in his heart.
He didn’t need a rope to descend—he found the place where he’d climbed up, scrabbled down, finally falling into the river.
And, just in case she’d done something crazy and flung herself over the edge into the river, he searched the water for her broken body.
No Gilly.
Which meant she was still on the cliff.
His chest turned to fire as he splashed downstream, past his rope. He examined it and realized he’d left the descender at the bottom. Taken off the harness and left it on the opposite shore.
He’d all but condemned her to die.
Reuben leaned over and lost it. His stomach emptied, his arms weak, he collapsed into the cool water.
But—she could be alive up there. The thought pulsed inside him, a fragile hope that had him finding his legs and searching for a place that didn’t have an overhang, where he could ascend.
He’d never been good at rock climbing, but the primal urge to get up the face pushed him forward, his hands torn and bleeding by the time he reached the top.
But somewhere in there, he’d started crying.
He ran toward their camp—easily found it upriver near the camelback ridge of rocks.
When he’d left her, she’d taken out her fire shelter. He’d hung onto that hope with a fist as he’d careened down the mountain, bulldozed through the forest. Please, Gilly, be under the fire shelter.
Now that thought glimmered as he kicked up ash and cinder, skirting hot spots glowing in the loam, snags that simmered.
He reached the boulder.
He found the silver shelter wadded up, seared, melted around the edges and—empty.
“No!” He kicked it into the wind, leaned against the rock, and pressed his hands over his face.
God, she didn’t deserve this.
And then he didn’t know why he was talking to God, because, please, what did he expect? He knew what God thought of him, and frankly, Reuben had done it again. Made the wrong decision and abandoned someone to die. He couldn’t bear the thought of her alone, terrified.
Worse, his gut—no, his heart—had practically screamed at him to take her with him. To carry her on his back, even if she hated it. To protect her like he should have.
He got up, kicking through the debris, not sure what he might be looking for.
A reason, perhaps, not to despair.
His foot met a charred bundle, and he squatted, brushing away the ash.
Their gear pack. Melted down, the plastic clips a hard mass.
He picked it up, his breath heaving over itself.
He was going to be sick again. Instead, he turned and with a feral cry, the one building in his chest for the past two hours, he threw the deformed pack with all his strength toward the ravine.
His moan echoed into the scalded air, past the ravine, into the still green forest, and back, reverberating through him.
A howl of grief, and he let it shake him, send him back to the boulder.
He fell against it, his breathing hard, emitting moans he didn’t know how to escape.
Then he closed his eyes and wept.
Why couldn’t he have seen this? He should have known the fire would have run with the wind, east—
He’d left her here to burn to death. Just like he’d let Jock run back into the fire. Just like he’d walked away from his father.
If he’d been on the ranch, he would have been with the old man, checking fencing with him when he’d had his heart attack. Could have ridden back for help—
Maybe his father would still be alive.
God, I screwed up. I screwed up bad. Reuben couldn’t breathe, the fist in his chest a vice.
Reuben.
He looked up, the voice so vivid he held his breath, searched for the source. Keep playing your position. His father’s voice—it sounded so real Reuben actually got up.
See the salvation of the Lord.
He stilled, rooted, his pulse thundering. Remembering their conversation last night. Now he wanted to lean into the words, believe them.
“Reuben!”
He stilled, the voice thin, a barest hint against the wind stirring the scorched earth.
Gilly?
“Reuben, I’m here!”
He whirled around, definitely hearing something now, and he prayed it wasn’t his heart, longing so much to hear her voice, he’d conjured her up.
“Gilly!” He didn’t see her. Just an ethereal voice lifting from somewhere near the ravine. He started running, hope flashing through him.
“I’m down here!”
Down—he didn’t see anything, just blackened trees, a film of ashy white over charred rock. He jumped over still-smoking tree trunks, came out to the edge of the cliff. “I don’t see you!”
“I’m down here!”
He followed her voice, scrambling along the edge, looking over the side.
He nearly fell into the ravine. His foot kicked the far edge, and he tripped, landing on his hands. His leg dropped into the expanse.
“Don’t fall in!”
He pulled himself out, backed up, peered down into the crevice. “Gilly?” There wasn’t a hope that he’d fall in—he could barely fit his leg in.
There, in the darkness, about halfway down. By the looks of it she’d managed to wedge her entire body in this safe cavity in the earth, protected from the blaze.
He went weak with the sight of her, crouched on a ledge in the recesses of the crack. She looked a little singed, her face blackened, her eyes huge as she stared up at him.
“Are you all right?” he asked stupidly because he didn’t know what else to say.
“I think so,” she said. “The fire just—well, I climbed down here just as it blew up over the edge.”
He swallowed back a rush of emotion that had the power to collapse him, rend from him another unmanly sob.
But he was just so— “I can’t believe you thought of wedging yourself in this crevice!” He was leaning down now, trying to figure out how to get her out.
“I didn’t—it just appeared. I thought I was going to die, and suddenly I fell into it.”
He had no words for the relief that gusted through him. “Let’s get you out, huh? Can you climb?”
“My knee is…” She shook her head. “I’m sorry, Rube.”
“Gilly, shh. No problem. Stay put. I’ll be back.”
“I’m not going anywhere.” Then she smiled up at him, such a beautiful smile it took his breath away in a whole new way.
Joy. Right there in a tiny package that could fit in a slit in the ground.
Thank you, God.
Maybe the Almighty would just forget about that…earlier bit.
Reuben ran down the edge of the cliff to where he’d climbed up earlier and worked his way down to the river.
Found his rope, the remainder that hadn’t burned. Still a good length—long enough, he supposed, to pull her up.
He climbed up the cliff and returned to the hole. He sat on the edge and tied a harness into the end. He lowered it down to Gilly. “Put this around you. I’ll pull you up.”
She worked the rope around herself.
“Easy does it—don’t fall.”
She looked up, as if to snap at him, but instead just nodded.
Hmm.
He knew he should be roping in, securing his position, but frankly he could probably pull her up hand over hand. Nevertheless, he wound the rope around his waist, stood up, braced his legs, and began to pull.
She weighed nothing, or it could be sheer adrenaline, but she called out for him to slow down, to let her work her way up.
He slowed down, steadied his breath until her head rimmed the edge of the crack. Then in one quick move, he wrapped his arm around her tiny waist and heaved her up and into his embrace.
And then her arms were around his neck, as she held onto him, burying her face in his shoulder.
Shaking.
“Shh, you’re okay. You’re okay.” He said it for himself as much as for her, backing away from the edge, then scooping her into his arms and sitting down. He settled her on his lap, holding her away from him enough to run his hands down her arms. He met her eyes.
Swallowed.
She was staring at him, so much vulnerability in her eyes, so much relief and just a hint of hero worship that his breath hiccupped.
“Rube—”
But he couldn’t take it, couldn’t listen, couldn’t wait—he leaned in and kissed her. And not a soft, sweet, gentle kiss like before, but a full on, oh-I-nearly-lost-you move that had him tightening his arms around her, reeling at the emotions that suddenly turned him weak. He had his hands tangled in her hair, now dirty and knotted—
And she was kissing him back. Just as heartily, her hands fisted into his grimy shirt, pulling him closer, as if she couldn’t get enough of him.
It slowed him down, and the relief shuddered out of him, until he softened his kiss, ending it sweetly, with a gentleness that he hoped showed her just how much he didn’t want to frighten her.
Even though, yeah, he was suddenly very, very afraid.
He loved her. The realization washed over him, turned him a little woozy, scooping out his breath. Still, as he leaned back, meeting her eyes, her amazing smile, the truth poured into his bones, his heart.
Wow, he loved her. Her courage and her spitfire determination and even her resourcefulness. He loved the fact that, yeah, she’d risked her life for him at least twice—maybe more—but also that she could still look at him like he was her hero.
He loved her because despite him being a big man, with more bullheadedness than brains sometimes, she still trusted him with herself, this petite woman who had experienced pain and fear under the hands of a man out of control.
With everything inside him, he wanted to protect her. From everything—and especially Patrick and Brownie and fire and fear and—well, even his own crazy emotions. Because she couldn’t possibly feel the same about him.
Unlike him, she hadn’t exactly been pining for him for years.
Still, maybe they had a chance if he did this right, if he didn’t rush her. Didn’t scare her.
“What is it, Reuben?” She ran her thumbs over his cheeks. “You look like you’ve been crying.”
He twisted his mouth, as if brushing her words away, but he couldn’t quite manage it and just stared out over the ravine.
“You were crying.”
“I just thought—”
And then she brought his face back to hers and kissed him again. So achingly sweet that he was in very real danger of bursting in tears again. He cupped her face in his big hands, caressed his thumbs down her grimy cheeks, so soft despite the dirt and cuts, and let himself sink into the wonder of her touch.
Gilly.
Making him feel like the guy who did things right.
She finally broke away, a smile in her eyes. Silence pressed between them, a warmth that had his heart thundering.
For a second he remembered the feel of her curled up against him in the night, and his body thrummed with an ache that he put away.
Preacher’s daughter.
But he wrapped his arms around her and wrestled himself off the ground.
“What—”
“I got hold of Conner, and he’s sending help. Sorry, Gilly, but we have a ride to catch, and I’m carrying you. No argument.”
And maybe it was just the smoke fogging up her brain, but she slipped her arms around his neck.
Although, true to form, as he started off through the woods, she said, “If you tell anyone, I’ll drop you out of a plane without a chute.”
“I’ll be our secret,” he said, loving her even more.
Gilly wasn’t going to actually complain about being in Reuben’s embrace. Not when she fit so perfectly in his arms, his own curled around her, hugging her to the planes of his chest. He seemed to carry her with such ease, as if she weighed nothing—then she remembered that he usually carried around a hundred-pound pack on his back, hiking out for miles.
He smelled like he’d spent a week fighting a fire—smoky, the scent of a hard-working male, his whiskers rough against her hair. He still wore his bandanna, a little soiled from his head wound, the trail of blood into his dark whiskers.
Yeah, she could stay forever right here.
Besides, her knee did hurt, having been wedged in that hole for hours. She couldn’t move her leg at all.
Still, “You can’t carry me to the road. It’s too far.”
“I could carry you to Hawaii, Hot Cake.”
She grinned, felt his words to the core of her body. “Okay, then at least let me climb on your back. You’ll be able to go a lot farther if you carry me piggyback.”
He looked down at her, met her eyes. Oh, he had devastating brown eyes, hints of gold around the edges, and so much compassion in them it could knock her off kilter.
Her gentle giant. With a hint of danger in his expression, of course, when riled.
“Then I can’t see your smile.”
And romantic to boot.
“You can see me smile plenty when we get back to HQ, and we have the team safely rescued.”
He nodded at that then, and put her down. Crouched so she could climb on his back.
And yeah, her knee started to burn a little when he tucked his arms around her legs, but she hoisted herself up, clamped him around the waist, and knotted her hands around his massive neck and shoulders to help with the weight.
“How far to the road?”
They were traveling through the moonscape of the burned forest, smoke still rising from downed trees, puffs of ash lifting with each step. Thankfully Reuben was wearing his double-soled smokejumper boots.
Her skin crawled with grit and cinders, and she felt like she’d rolled in a campfire and added a layer of grime. But at least she was alive.
Just stand, do your part, and see the salvation of the Lord on your behalf.
Never did that feel more true than when she’d heard Reuben’s voice, yelling her name.
She’d tried to yell back, but her voice died, stymied by the depth of the crevasse.
For a long, painful stretch of minutes, she thought she’d dreamed his voice.
And then, a feral, raw, gut-wrenching yell had echoed through the air, down through the ravine, and she knew.
The poor man thought she’d perished, the fire turning her to a corpse. And the pain in his howl had made her summon herself and shout his name with everything she had.
Twice.
And when he found her, the look on his face—so much disbelief, so much relief—turned her weak with the strength of it.
Not to mention the way he muscled her free, nearly yanking her into his arms.
And then his embrace—holding her so tightly, his entire body trembled. Or maybe that was her, she didn’t know, but he just kept saying that she was okay. She’d be okay.
Words, she suspected, that were for him, too. Because when he’d looked her over for injury, she read it on his face.
He’d been weeping. Furrows cutting through the grime on his face, so blatant it made her own eyes well up.
This amazing man looked at her then, his heart in his eyes, and it was all she could do to say his name.
Until he kissed her.
And then she had no words for the way he pulled her to himself, claimed her mouth, as if she already belonged to him, or he needed her to. She gripped his shirt, and, for that moment, became his, surrendering, kissing him back, needing him to belong to her, too.
She loved the feel of his hands in her hair, tangled there, and the way his breath shuddered out when he released her, as if she’d stoked a fire in him.
He’d certainly stirred something in her. Longing, and more.
She couldn’t call it love—not yet. Desire. Hope. A well of affection that went deeper than she could look. Because if she peered into it, she just might find that she could lose herself to this man. Could sink into his arms and simply stay there. Safe. Protected.
Loved.
She’d closed her eyes, buried her face in his shoulder.
“Are you okay back there?” He’d found a logging trail, was following it west. “I think we’ll hit the road in about a half mile. And then we’ll start walking toward Yaak. Conner should be able to find us.”
She didn’t want to ask about Patrick or Brownie.
She had no doubt that Reuben had already tumbled them through his mind. And if they got near her—them—well, she might see the other side of Reuben, the one who rode bulls and carried around a chain saw, the one who had let out the feral cry that could shatter her bones.
She loved that she knew both sides of him, the tough sawyer and the generous, kind, sweet man who had cried for her.
Except that same man was her, um, teammate. A guy she had to work with, a man who had to let her do her very dangerous job of bombing fires.
The last thing she needed was him deciding that he didn’t want his—what, girlfriend?—in danger. Yeah, Jed and Kate made it work, but they’d had their own identical set of troubles. Jed, not wanting Kate to die. Kate, being a fantastic smokejumper despite making the choice to go part-time.
This could get complicated, what with Reuben’s off-the-charts overprotective gene.
Except the summer was nearly over, wasn’t it? And then came a long, uneventful winter for them to sort it out.
Until then, Gilly would have to convince him to keep this—whatever it was between them—on a low simmer.
She was about to mention it when they emerged onto the road.
And, as if he knew exactly where they might be, there sat Conner, sitting in the cab of his truck, listening to his handheld ham radio.
Wearing a black JCWF T-shirt, he looked up at them, his blond hair swept back into a cap. Conner’s expression suggested they looked worse than she thought.
“Holy cow, what happened to you two?” He came out of the cab and helped Gilly off Reuben, draping her arm around his shoulders.
She leaned into Conner, hoping to throw off the fact that she’d been perfectly comfortable snuggled up against the big sawyer.
Conner helped her over to the truck, and she braced herself on the driver’s seat while he checked out the bloody scrape on her cheek. “Where did you get this?”
“Patrick Browning hit her,” Reuben said, the slightest hint of exactly how he felt about Patrick in his voice. “Right before he tried to kill us.”
Conner whirled around. “What?”
“We think Patrick could be our arsonist—or at least he has something to do with the fires. Who knows—it could be his father—”
“Brownie and Patrick? Setting fires?” Now Conner looked at her, and wore the same expression that she probably wore only twenty-four hours ago when she realized Patrick had his shotgun pointed at them.
Only twenty-four hours ago.
“It’s all about Tom. They say his death is our fault,” Reuben said.
Conner drew in a breath at that, probably evaluating Reuben’s words. Not for a minute did Gilly believe that his team was to blame, but she could imagine the three survivors had spent the last year in sleepless nights trying to decide that for themselves.
Maybe not coming up with the same conclusions.
“He tried to burn us alive in his cabin—ended up torching the entire forest. Gilly would have died if she hadn’t found a way to hide from the fire.” Reuben held a hint of pride in his voice, and Gilly wanted to amend his words.
Because she’d done exactly nothing to save herself.
But Reuben just grinned at her, something soft in his eyes.
Oh boy. Because she smiled back.
She simply couldn’t help it when he looked at her like that.
“I’ve been thinking about it,” she said, turning to Conner. “I’m pretty sure Patrick sabotaged the plane. If he put sand or oil into the fuel tanks, I would have still read them as full. Which I did.”
Conner knelt in front of her now, examining her knee. “Is that what happened—you ran out of fuel? Because HQ lost you on the transponder shortly after takeoff.”
“I wouldn’t be surprised if he sabotaged that, too,” Reuben said. “Maybe he was hoping the entire team would be aboard.”
Conner had reached into his cab and pulled out a first aid bag. He dug around inside and pulled out an ice pack, cracked it, and placed it over Gilly’s knee. Secured it with a Velcro strap. “Get in,” he said.
She scooted into the middle while Reuben came around the side.
Conner was outside on the radio, calling in his successful retrieval of his teammates.
A few minutes later, he got in the truck, closed the door. “We’re headed back to HQ. The PEAK Rescue team out of Mercy Falls is headed up to search for the rest of the team by air. And Pete, Ned, Riley, and Tucker are headed up to hike in. Do you remember the coordinates, Rube?”
“No. But I can show you on a terrain map.”
Conner put the truck in gear and headed down the highway. “Satellite imagery suggests the Davis fire has grown to about fifteen hundred acres and headed east, through the canyon. We had significant wind increase this morning—”
“That’s why the fire grew so fast,” Reuben said, a tone in his voice Gilly didn’t understand. “The wind kicked up after I left for the tower.”
And then he did it. Put his muscled, protective arm around her in a very non-teammate move.
She stiffened, looked up at him.
He glanced down at her, gave her another one of those soft smiles.
She longed to lean over, rest her head against his arm. Okay, so she supposed teammates did that, sometimes.
His thumb caressed her shoulder, an almost absent move that sent tingles racing down her arm, through her body in another very non-teammate-like response.
No, no—If Reuben started to baby her, to act like she needed help…
This wouldn’t work. She shrugged out of his embrace then moved his arm off of her, sitting up straight in the middle.
She couldn’t look at him, would hate the confusion on his face. But she had a reputation to keep.
“Hopefully Pete and the guys will locate the others soon,” Conner said. “Then we can chopper them out. We’ll deal with the fire after that.”
Gilly let her head fall back and closed her eyes as she listened to Reuben give Conner the lowdown on the events. He started with the low fuel tanks, explained the crash, their determination to the hike out, how they ended up at Brownie’s cabin, the cabin fire, then Reuben’s race to the lookout, and finally her miraculous escape from the flames.
He left out, much to her relief, the kissing parts.
The very delicious, delectable, dangerous kissing parts.
Darkness descended around her, and it wasn’t until the change in road texture when they pulled onto the gravel of the Ember Fire Base that she woke up.
Her cheek pressed against Reuben’s shoulder. She might have even drooled, because her mouth hung open. Reuben didn’t say anything as she pushed herself up. But he did look down at her and smile.
A curl of warmth started in her belly.
“Let’s check in and see if they’ve found the team,” Reuben said.
Good man, had his priorities straight.
Maybe this could work out.
He waited for her as she slid out of the truck but didn’t make a move to pick her up. Instead, he offered his arm, and she leaned on it, limping into the office.
Miles stood over the giant relief map in the center of the room, running his finger along the edge of Black Top, down into the ravine, then further out toward Pete Creek. He held his radio, in contact with the rescue team. “Roger, Pete. PEAK Rescue is headed toward your position.”
“I can see the smoke from here,” Pete was saying. “I’m concerned their position is in the path of the fire.”
Gilly came up to the table with Reuben and Conner, and Miles glanced at them. “Pete, Reuben and Gilly are here. Stand by.”
Then he holstered the radio and came over to them. “We were worried.” He gave Gilly a quick hug, nothing but a perfunctory affection in it, but enough for her to confirm that Reuben’s embraces were, well, not this.
Miles shook Reuben’s hand, and they met in a man-hug.
“What’s the sit rep?” Reuben asked.
Conner pocketed his sunglasses and leaned over the map. He touched the road where he’d picked them up. “You guys were here,” he said.
“We hiked out along this ridge.” Reuben trailed his finger along the south edge of Mushroom Mountain. “We crossed Pete Creek here, then hit the forest service road.” He kept moving his finger north. “Brownie’s cabin was about here.” He pointed to a spot northwest of Garver Mountain Lookout Tower.
“What’s your best guess as to where the plane might be?”
Before Reuben could answer, Gilly touched the thin blue creek line on the map. “I think they’re here, at Beetle Creek, although it’s dry now. Tell the PEAK team to fly up the creek bed at the base of the mountain.”
Miles looked at her, his face grim. “They’re covering that basin, looking. But the smoke from the Davis fire is really thick, the air currents rough.”
She stared at Miles. “Are you saying the fire is too close—that they can’t get in?”
“I’m advising they put down south of here, on this forest service road and hike in on foot—”
“But what if the fire finds the team first?” This from Reuben, who had walked over to the Doppler radar, reading the wind speed, the satellite images of the fire.
“It’s through the pass, and from the looks of this, only a few miles from the team’s estimated position,” Reuben said quietly. He turned, and Gilly recognized his expression. The same one he’d worn when Patrick told him to sit down, to surrender.
Not a chance. Maybe Miles had forgotten who Reuben was, the grief he shouldered, but she could almost predict his next words.
“We need to go in after them, right now.”
Yes. Exactly what she was thinking. She moved around the table, leaning hard on it, fighting the pain shooting up her leg. “Listen, I’ll take a plane, drop retardant on the front edge, slow the fire down. That will clear a path for the chopper to get in.”
Miles looked at her, and she could actually see the wheels turning in his head.
“It could work,” she added. “Buy them time for Pete and the guys to get in. The PEAK team could land in the creek bed, or maybe the smoke would clear enough for them to hoist them up.” She took another step, drew in a quick breath, but masked it with a smile.
“And I know exactly how to fly that canyon—I’ve done it once already.”
She meant it sort of as a joke, but it fell flat, with Miles’s mouth tightening in a dark line. She looked at Reuben for reinforcement, but his jaw had locked so tight he could be grinding coal into diamonds. “Okay, too soon to joke, but really, I can do this—”
“I can send Jared. He’ll get in there—” Miles started.
“No! Jared won’t get low enough. The canyon winds—yeah, they’re rough, but manageable. But a DC-10 will never make that run. Jared won’t risk it—”
“And you will,” Reuben said quietly.
She frowned at him. Of course she would.
“It’s the only air tanker we have,” Miles said. “The rest of the fleet has been routed to Idaho.”
“We can take the Annie. It’s fixed. I saw it before we left.”
“Have you lost your ever-lovin’ mind?” This from Reuben, who blew out a breath. She could read the disapproval in his eyes. “Let’s, for one minute, remember who supposedly fixed the Annie, shall we?”
Her voice dropped, and she met his gaze. “Let’s remember what he said in the cabin. This wasn’t about me. I was just collateral damage. He was out to hurt you, the team. He wouldn’t sabotage the AN2, because I’m the only one with the guts to fly it.”
Reuben stared at her a long moment during which she thought he got it. The fact that this was her job, and their team needed her.
And when he turned to Miles, she expected a repeat of yesterday’s blowout.
“No,” Reuben said quietly. “Her knee is busted up. There’s no way she can control the foot pedals, keep the plane steady through all those currents. Even if the plane holds together, she doesn’t have the strength to keep it on course. You let her go, and we’ll just have another casualty on our hands.”
She had no words, her stomach dropping out from under her, her entire body numb.
He wouldn’t look at her, just kept his gaze trained on Miles. Who looked between Reuben and Gilly, his shoulders rising and falling.
“Let me go, Miles,” she said quietly, in a voice that she didn’t recognize. Probably because her real voice was screaming in her head, words that she rarely used. She knew it, she just knew that Reuben would overprotect, not let her do her job.
So much for them sorting it out, finding a happy ending.
“If anyone is going to save them, it will be me, and you know it,” she said stiffly.
More quiet from Miles. Then, he closed his eyes and gave a small nod.
“You’ve got to be kidding me!” Reuben roared.
“Thanks, Miles,” Gilly said.
She didn’t spare Reuben a glance as she gritted her teeth and limped down the hall.
But she didn’t get far.
“Gilly—please! Don’t do this.” Reuben on her tail. She pressed her hand to the wall, drew in a breath, mostly to let out the coil of pain.
He stepped in front of her, a wall of frustration, anger—and who knew what else.
Bully. Yes, that was the word for him.
“You can’t go—we both know this. Even if the Annie is okay to fly, you’re in no shape—”
“I’m going, Reuben. The team needs me.” She started to push past him, but a needle of pain stopped her, made her catch her breath again.
“See—you’re hurting—”
“And we’ll both be hurting if our team dies out there!”
That brought him up like a slap. “Okay, fine—but let’s get Jared—”
“He won’t do it, and you know it. I can’t leave them out there!”
“And I can’t let you go!”
She recoiled, not only at his words, at his volume, but the expression on his face. Red eyes, his body nearly trembling.
“It’s not up to you.”
“Maybe not, but I can’t watch another person I care about die! Not when I can say something, maybe stop it.”
She looked away, her eyes hot.
“Gilly, please. I love you. I know it’s fast—but I’ve probably been in love with you for a couple of years, and—please don’t go. We’ll find another way.”
He loved her.
But she couldn’t let his words stop her, derail her.
She closed her eyes, her throat thick. But she forced out the words. “If you love me, you won’t make me choose between you and the team. You and flying. You and my job.”
She looked back at him then, hoping he’d see the truth—
She wanted both. Tough and tender. Brave and beautiful.
But, no. Because his expression hardened, and he straightened up. Stepped back from her. “Because if I do make you choose, I won’t win, will I?”
His words hit her like a fist, and she stood there, her mouth open, a fist around her heart.
It was clear that the ranch meant more to him than I did.
She swallowed. “I took them out there. It’s up to me to bring them home.”
And in that space of time, in the silence, Reuben’s mouth tightened around the edges, his eyes filming. “Right.”
Then he turned and headed down the hallway.
Wait.
But she watched him go without a word.
What are you trying to prove?
Jared in her head and behind that, Reuben’s howl, reverberating through the forest.
Gilly turned into the flight office to plan her attack.