Ivy sat across the desk from her dad, wishing she was anywhere but here. He’d called her every morning since she’d broken things off with James, but she hadn’t answered. She had merely texted a few times to assure him that she was fine and she’d call when she had the time.

She hadn’t had the heart to.

After leaving James at the road to the base, she’d driven straight home, cracked open a bottle of wine, broken out a tub of Ben & Jerry’s Cherry Garcia and alternated between eating, drinking and sobbing her heart out. Again.

The next morning, she declared the pity party over. She had soaked out most of the hangover in a long hot bath, hit send on seven job applications, resigned at the pet clinic, and then started cleaning her apartment.

However, being productive hadn’t mended her broken heart any more than the wine and ice cream.

That morning, Dad left a lengthy voicemail threatening to send Bill Ricketts over to check on her if she didn’t stop by for a visit. Ivy was about eighty percent sure he wouldn’t do it, but she wasn’t willing to take the chance.

“Been worried about you, Scout.”

She lifted her hands, making sure he took note of her appearance. “It’s only been a few days, Dad.”

She made certain she’d showered, put on clean clothes, and done her makeup. For one thing, she was determined to convince her dad she was fine. For another, she was afraid of running into James. She’d already fallen completely apart, looking like a mad woman by that tree.

She couldn’t let him know that breaking things off hadn’t helped one damn bit. Ivy was smart enough to know nothing but time would heal that wound, but time moved really fucking slow.

“Mmm-hmm.”

“As you can see, I’m doing fine.”

Because he was her dad, he saw beyond the makeup and false smile. “Yeah. You’re doing just about as fine as Jamie.”

She tried to ignore the sharp stab of pain in her chest that accompanied hearing James’s name. If she was smart, she wouldn’t ask the next question.

She wasn’t smart. “Is he okay?”

Dad shook his head. “Nope. He’s fucked-up. Big time. Got shit-faced a couple of nights ago and tried to pick a fight with Butch.”

“That doesn’t sound like him.”

“It’s not him. It’s the him you left me with when you broke his heart.”

She opened her mouth angrily, ready to tell her dad it was a two-way street, but he raised his hand. “And I can see you’re not doing a damn bit better, so you can stop sitting there like you’re not dying inside. I don’t get it, Scout. I’ve never seen two people better suited, more obviously in love. That stuff doesn’t come along every day. I only had it once. With your mom. And I let her go. Let her go when I should have fought for her.”

Ivy sat stock-still, uncertain how to reply. Dad was stepping into dangerous territory, that place they never ventured, where emotions and truth and memories all went to hide.

“Dad—”

“Don’t throw away a chance at happiness, Scout. Believe me, it’s not as easy to find as you might think.”

“You know why I can’t…” She sucked in a deep breath. “Why I can’t be with him.”

“I do. It’s just—” His cell rang, distracting him. He picked up the phone, clearly intent on silencing it, when he frowned at the screen. “Sorry, Scout. I should probably take this. Hello?”

Ivy looked around the room, trying not to eavesdrop on her dad’s call. That was hard to do when he said, “Oh my God. I’m so sorry. Not surprised you can’t reach him. Jamie broke his phone. I’ll tell him.”

She leaned forward when Dad disconnected the phone. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

Dad rubbed his forehead wearily. “That was Jamie’s mom. There was a death in the family. Someone named Jake.”

“Oh no.” Ivy pressed a hand to her chest, as she knew exactly what the old ranch hand Jake meant to James. He would be devastated.

Dad rose from his chair slowly, leaning heavily on the desk to push himself up. “I hate delivering news like this. Last time was when…”

Ivy knew when. Knew why her dad stopped talking. She’d been sitting at the top of the stairs when Dad got back late from the base. Mom had been waiting at the door. She’d taken one look at Dad’s face and known.

“Tell me!” she had screamed at him.

And Dad had said the words. The first and last time she’d ever heard him say them. “Jem died in the fire.”

“How can you keep doing this job, Dad?” Ivy asked. She wondered about it all the time, but she’d never been able to ask him. It always felt like another thing that would hurt him.

Dad looked surprised by her question. “I don’t know what else to do.”

It seemed like a stupid answer. And also the right one. “I’ll tell Jamie about Jake.”

Dad looked like he might argue, but then he nodded. “Probably be better coming from you, from someone he loves.”

“He loves you too, Dad.”

She saw how weary her dad looked, so when he started toward the door, she stopped him. “I’ll tell him.” As Ivy walked to the barracks, she tried to figure out what to say. How the hell did you do this? Then she realized there was no good way. She’d been on the receiving end and the words didn’t matter, didn’t change the truth.

She lightly rapped on the screen door to the barracks. She could see a couple of guys playing cards at the table, clearly on break.

“Oh, hey, Scout,” Butch said. All the guys on the squad—with the exception of James—had adopted her dad’s nickname for her.

“Jamie around?” she asked.

Butch pointed his thumb over his shoulder. “Fucker is out back, washing his motorcycle. Take it easy on him, okay? Otherwise, we pay.”

Ivy acknowledged Butch’s black eye.

“Yeah, so I’ve heard. Sorry about that.” She walked around the corner of the building, nervously tucking her hands into the front pockets of her jeans.

James smiled when he saw her, before something clicked in his memory and the smile faded.

She hated that. Hated that she hadn’t just lost the man she loved. She’d lost her best friend too.

“Hey, Doc. What’s up?”

She recognized his words for what they were, his kind attempt at putting them back on familiar ground.

“Your mom called Dad when she couldn’t reach you. There’s been…” She paused, starting over. “Jake died, James.”

He stood still, staring at her so long that she wondered if he’d heard her. Then he shook his head. “No. He didn’t.”

Ivy held out her phone. “I think you should call your family.”

James was still shaking his head, even as he took the cell from her and dialed the phone.

“Mom?” There was a long silence as he listened. “I don’t understand,” he said finally. “He was fine…I just talked to him.” He paused once more as his mother spoke, then he said, “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

He disconnected the phone but still didn’t move.

“James…” Ivy placed a comforting hand on his arm.

James was usually the epitome of confidence and strength, but at the moment, he looked as confused and lost as a small child in search of his parents.

“It’s true. Stroke.”

Tears sprung to Ivy’s eyes, a shocking reaction considering she’d never even met the man. She suspected her response was based more on how it impacted James. Jake had meant the world to him. In fact, it was Jake who’d encouraged James to become a smokejumper. He referred to him as his honorary uncle, the relative he’d chosen based on respect, admiration and love.

“I’m so sorry,” she said softly.

James’s face was oddly blank. Shock, she thought. The truth of what had happened hadn’t sunk in yet. It would obviously take him some time to absorb the blow.

“I just don’t understand. I was talking to him a few days ago. Right after…”

Ivy blinked back the tears. Had he called Jake after she’d left him?

Death, especially an unexpected one, was a goddamn sucker punch. She’d felt that same breath-stealing pain when she’d learned that Jem had died. She had simply wandered around aimlessly, searching for some way to make the words make sense. Then, when they did, she prayed they were wrong, wished she’d never heard them.

James was in for some very rough, painful days…weeks. Hell, years.

Jem had died a decade ago, and while the initial unspeakable agony had muted some, the dull ache of missing him never fully went away.

“I have to go home.” James turned toward his motorcycle, clearly intent on simply hopping on and taking off.

Ivy quickly grabbed his arm and stopped him. “No. Wait.”

She hated the emptiness in his eyes as he looked at her. “Ivy. I have to go.”

“I know. But you’re not driving yourself on that motorcycle. Your emotions are all over the place and it’s a six-hour trip. There’s no way I’m letting you get on that bike right now. I’ll take you.”

“I can’t ask you to do that.”

“You didn’t ask. Unless…you’d rather someone else—”

James gripped her hand, tugging her toward him. “I feel selfish for this, but…I need you right now.”

She wrapped her arms around him. “I’m here.”

He squeezed her harder, holding on for several minutes. It was obvious he was fighting back some dark emotions. When he released her, he seemed a bit clearer, more focused.

She jerked her head to the right. “Come on. You need to pack a bag.”

James followed her into the barracks without complaint, something that drove home just how deep the shock was. She helped him throw several pairs of jeans and T-shirts in a duffel bag, then led him to her truck.

Her dad was standing there.

“I’m driving James to Compton Pass.”

Dad nodded. “I’m glad. Didn’t want him getting on that motorcycle.”

He hugged both of them, telling James to take all the time he needed, and then they said goodbye.

James was quiet until she turned on her blinker near the exit that led to the highway. “No. Stop by your place first. There’s no way I’m letting you drive six hours there and back today. Grab some stuff so you can spend the night.”

She started to shake her head, but the real James reappeared. “You can pack an overnight bag, or turn around and take me back to the base and my bike. This is nonnegotiable.”

“Fine.” They drove to her apartment in silence, James clearly lost in some sad thoughts, and her at a loss for what to say to comfort him.

She parked on the street and expected him to wait in the truck. She was surprised when he got out and followed her.

“I won’t be a minute,” she said when they entered, pointing to the couch. “You can hang out here.”

James didn’t listen, but instead followed her down the hall. He leaned on the doorframe to her bedroom as she packed her toiletries, pajamas and a change of clothes.

“Maybe you could pack up a few outfits.”

She looked at him, confused.

“Maybe you could stay a few days.”

“James, this is going to be a tough time for your family. The last thing they’ll want to do is entertain company.”

“It is going to be tough. I was hoping you’d stick around for me.”

It was all he had to say. She returned to the dresser and pulled out two more shirts and another pair of jeans. Then she went to the closet and tossed in a black dress, a blouse, and a pair of dress pants. She wasn’t sure what the funeral arrangements would be, but she would stay as long as he needed her.

“Okay. I’m good.” She walked toward him, expecting him to head back downstairs to the truck. Instead, he reached for her, tugging her toward him for another hug.

“I’m not sure I can do this.”

She felt him shudder as he spoke, and her heart broke for him. She tightened her grip on his waist. “It’s going to be okay. I’ll be right beside you.”

James’s spine seemed to stiffen, the moment of weakness passing. “Okay.”

They returned to the truck, neither of them speaking until she hit the highway. “Talk to me,” he said at last. “Take my mind off…”

Distraction would only work for so long, but Ivy was more than willing to offer what she could. She filled the better part of an hour telling him funny stories about some of the animals she’d treated in the past. While he didn’t laugh, she was able to provoke a few smiles. She considered that a win.

They were halfway there when there was a loud bang. Then smoke started rising from the hood of her truck as the engine cut off.

“Shit!” Ivy managed to drift to the side of the road. It was a quiet strip of highway, not another car in sight.

“Goddammit,” she said as James lifted the hood and steam rose so thick and hot, they both had to step away.

“Oh my God. I’m so sorry! I know this truck is a piece of shit, but it always managed to get me back and forth to college.”

“Ivy,” James said. “It’s not your fault. Calm down.”

“We’re about three hours from Compton Pass. Maybe someone from the ranch could come get you. I can stay with the truck and find my own way back to West Yellowstone later.”

He shook his head. “I’m not leaving you alone to deal with this. Call for a tow truck. I can already tell the radiator is cracked. This needs a mechanic. We’ll get a tow to the closest town and see what they can do. Okay?”

“But you need to get home.”

James shrugged. “There’s nothing I can do there tonight that I can’t do tomorrow. Truth is, I’m not sorry to have a little more time to wrap my head around…”

“I’ll call the tow truck. Then you can use my phone to call your folks. What happened to your phone?”

“Threw it against a tree a few days ago.”

Her shoulders slumped. “I’m sorry.”

James cupped her cheek with one large, calloused hand. “No more apologies.”

Three hours later, she followed James into the motel room he’d rented that was only a few blocks away from where they’d left her truck with the mechanic. The man promised to have it fixed and ready to roll in the morning. With nothing else to do, he’d pointed them in the direction of the nearest motel. Mercifully, it had been within walking distance.

They dropped their bags near the door. Ivy had suggested they get two rooms, but James shook his head, opting instead for one with two double beds. He claimed it was cheaper and he’d sleep better if he could keep an eye on her. The motel didn’t really fit the “fleabag” description, but thanks to the liquor store and redneck bar across the street, there were more than a few questionable characters roaming around, making it feel shadier than it probably was.

It was early evening, the sun hanging low in the sky. Neither of them had eaten since breakfast, hitting the road midday. Ivy’s stomach growled loudly, prompting the first chuckle she’d heard from James all day.

“Come on. Guy at the front desk said that dive over there does takeout. He called it room service. We can grab some food there and a bottle of tequila from the liquor store.”

“Tequila sounds good.” And stupid. She didn’t drink much, so when she did, it went to her head fast.

Of course, the tequila didn’t feel stupid a few hours later. She and James had polished off a helping of potato skins, a dozen wings, two sliders each, some spinach dip, and the better part of a fifth of Patron Silver.

She was tipsy and feeling absolutely no pain. A blissful state after the last week.

James grinned at her, and she realized he was right there with her.

“I missed you,” he said when he caught her looking at him.

“I missed you too.”

“Went to lunch with Butch at the diner the other day, but the bastard hardly talks and when he does, it’s just about hunting and fishing. Boring as fuck. I like talking to you better.”

She laid her head back against the headboard and sighed. The tequila not only made her warm after so many cold days, it made it easier for her to say all the things that she’d been thinking.

“You’re a good man.”

He chuckled for a moment, until he realized she was serious. He’d been laying on his back on his own bed, but now he turned to his side to face her. She did the same, the two of them staring at each other over the five feet between them.

“Not really. I was a shithead in school, cocky asshole always strutting around. After school, life stalled out and I got into some trouble—got into bar fights, did reckless shit on my bike, said some really hateful things to my dad. And I picked up women because I wanted sex, not because I wanted them.”

“I said you are a good man. Not you were. Figure there’s not a person on the planet who hasn’t done something bad in their past, something they’re not proud of. Those things don’t define you, determine who you are. Or maybe they do. Maybe you recognize what you’ve done wrong and it changes you, makes you want to be a better person.”

“Have you ever done anything you regret?”

She nodded. “Sure. Of course. Cut class a few times. Stole some lipstick once from a drugstore.”

He shook his head. “Try again.”

Ivy swallowed heavily. There were too many things she regretted. “My mom blamed my dad for Jem’s death. Screamed at him for sending him out to fight that fire. It wasn’t a big one, just a lightning strike, pretty close to home. Jem was on the squad, on call that night, and Dad was in charge. He was doing his job. I hated Mom for saying those horrible things to him. She left him two months after Jem died, moved in with my aunt in North Carolina.”

“Two months?” James whispered.

“I know, right? I think it was a knee-jerk reaction to all the pain, and sometimes I wonder, if Dad had gone after her, brought her home, if they could have worked it out.”

“He didn’t go?”

“No. He was buried in guilt. Because he believed her. Believed Jem’s death was his fault.”

James frowned. “It wasn’t his fault.”

“I know.”

“This sounds like something your mom should regret. Not you.”

Ivy closed her eyes, unwilling to face him as she told him the rest. “Things fell apart right after Mom left. That was when I started cutting class, started stealing stuff. Fell in with all the wrong people, smoking pot, missing curfew. Found a badass boyfriend who probably would have given you a run for your money.”

She heard James chuckle, but she didn’t open her eyes or look his way. “Lost my virginity to him. Fortunately, my decline came near the end of my sophomore year. I’d been a stellar student for three quarters and my teachers liked me, so they kept letting me get by with things because I was the girl whose brother had died. The ultimate hall pass.”

She was startled when she felt the mattress next to her sink, James sitting on the edge. Her eyes had been closed, so she hadn’t seen him move.

He took her hand and squeezed it. It didn’t offer the comfort he might have hoped. “It’s okay, Ivy.”

She didn’t bother to close her eyes again. She didn’t want to keep hiding from him. Instead, she held his gaze. “Dad reached the end of his rope after a few months. Grounding me hadn’t worked. Neither had taking away my phone. One day, he called me into the living room and said he couldn’t do it anymore. Couldn’t watch me keep making all the wrong decisions. Said he was sending me to live with my mother. I lost it. Started screaming at him, told him I wouldn’t go. And then…”

“Then?” James prompted.

“I said I wished he’d died in the fire instead of Jem.”