CHAPTER SIXTEEN
I unpacked the four shirts, five rolled pairs of socks, three pairs of cargo pants, two oversized nightshirts, a toothbrush and toothpaste, a brush, mascara, and lip gloss from my backpack. The Alpines could have been called out at any time, and I wanted to be ready. It wasn’t lost on me that I was arguing with the only hotshot assigned to keep me safe, or that Tyler needed to be focused on the growing fire and not our ridiculous predicament.
Tyler and I weren’t an our. We weren’t a we, meaning no jealousy, no expectations, and no deep discussions about our relationship status or where it was headed. I was a recovering drunk, and he was a recovering whore. Any therapist I’d seen over the last five years would say the same thing I was thinking: we had no future.
I picked up the remote and turned on the television. The news channel was already reporting on the fire, the latest updates scrolling across the bottom of the screen. I only listened for a few minutes before turning it off.
My phone buzzed, lying in the same place on the bed where I’d tossed it earlier. Even from ten feet away, I could see it was my sister. It rang a few times before going dark, and then the display lit up again.
I walked the few steps and reached for my phone, unsure of whether I would throw it across the room or answer it until I held the speaker to my ear.
“Hello?”
“Ellison?”
“Hi, Finley.”
She sighed. “I thought you were dead. Mother and Dad thought you were dead.”
“I guess to them I sort of am.”
I could hear her wrath building, cringing when she yelled into my ear. “Not to me! I haven’t done shit to you, Ellie, and you’ve been ignoring and avoiding me for months! Do you think I’ve been hanging out on the beach just hoping you were okay?”
“No, but I hoped…”
“Fuck you! Don’t hope nice things for me right now. I’m mad at you! I don’t deserve this from you!”
I froze, wondering if she meant more than just being ignored.
“Say something!” Finley’s voice broke, and then she began to sniffle.
I wrinkled my nose. “Are you crying? Don’t cry, Fin, I’m sorry.”
“Why won’t you talk to me?” she cried. “What did I do?”
“Nothing. You didn’t do anything. I just didn’t want to ruin your vacation. I didn’t want you to feel guilty, and I didn’t want you to worry.”
“You’ve failed on all counts!”
“I’m sorry.”
“I don’t want you to be sorry!” she snapped. “I want you to answer your fucking phone when I call!”
“Okay,” I said. “I will.”
“You promise?” She was calmer now, taking a deep breath.
“I promise. I’ll answer when you call … if I’m not working.”
“What are you doing, anyway? Mother said you’re a secretary or photographer or something for the magazine there.”
“Yes.”
“Are you using the camera I bought you?”
I could hear her smiling. She had already forgiven me. She didn’t know about Sterling, and when she found out, she would remember this conversation and feel even more betrayed. All I wanted to do was get off the phone, but that would only make her suspicious.
“I am. It’s a really good camera, Fin, thanks.”
Finley didn’t talk for a few seconds. “I feel like I’m talking to a stranger.”
“It’s me,” I said.
“No, it’s not you. You’ve changed.”
“I’m sober.”
She breathed out a laugh. “How is that going?”
“Well, actually. Well … one fuck-up. How’s Sanya?”
“I wouldn’t know. I’ve been in Bali the last three weeks.”
“How’s Bali?”
“Beautiful. I’m coming back to the States to see you.”
I panicked. “I miss you, Fin, but I’m traveling a lot with this job. I’m following around the interagency hotshots, and we’re all over the place until early October.”
“The hotshots? As in Tyler’s crew?”
“Yes.”
“You’re fucking him, aren’t you?”
“Occasionally.”
“I knew it!” She giggled.
I was going to miss this Finley, the one who was never shocked, and who always let my misdeeds slide off her shoulders. Finley always made excuses for me; she led me around life holding my hand, and bossed me around without a second thought because that was what older sisters did.
No matter how much I wanted to prevent it, there would come a time when we would be sisters but no longer friends. Even if Finley forgave me, she would forever feel the pain of my betrayal and never know if she could trust me again.
I chugged one of two bottled waters in the room, wishing it were something stronger, and then paced a few laps before deciding to go back downstairs. My reflection in the mirror by the door caught my attention, and I stared into the round, icy-blue eyes staring blankly back at me. My reflection wasn’t kind. Dark strands of wavy hair hung from my messy bun. I was sober, and working, doing everything normal people did … was I happy?
A part of me hated Tyler for having to ask myself that question. If I couldn’t be happy doing something I loved, sleeping next to a patient man trying to care for me the only way he knew how, did I deserve to be? I was autonomous, making my own money and my own decisions—but staring at Ellie two-point-oh in the mirror, the sadness in her eyes was hard to ignore. It was infuriating.
The heavy door slammed behind me as I made my way down the hall. The elevator took me to the lobby, which I was surprised to find nearly empty.
“Hi,” I said to the desk clerk.
She smiled, pushing away the doodle she was working on.
“That’s pretty good,” I said, taking a second look.
“Thanks,” she said. “What can I do for you?”
I placed my credit card on the front desk. “Can I change the card on my room?”
“Sure,” she said, taking the silver rectangle from the desk. She used her mouse, clicking a few times, and then slid the card through the scanner. “For incidentals, too?”
“Yes. Everything.”
“Got it,” she said, handing it back to me. “Just sign here.”
“Thanks—” I looked at her name badge “—Darby.”
“No problem, MountainEar.”
I walked over to the bar and sat on the stool, alone except for the man behind the counter washing dishes. He had smooth, swarthy skin, and he was too young for his full head of silver hair and sideburns.
“Afternoon,” he said. He stuffed his cloth-covered fist into a glass tumbler, twisting quickly before picking up another glass from the sink. His dark eyes made him seem to be staring at me with much more intensity than he meant to.
“Hi. Just a … um … a Sprite for now.”
“On the rocks?” he teased. His smile faded, and he got to work, realizing I wasn’t in the mood for jokes.
He filled a tall glass, sliding it in front of me. His eyes sparked when someone sat on the stool to my right. It wasn’t hard to guess once he spoke.
“Toss me a Victoria’s Bitter, mate!” Liam said.
“You’re going to drink the first day on the job?” I asked. “Don’t you have a meeting in fifteen minutes?”
“No worries. I’ll have what she’s having.”
“Another Sprite,” the bartender said, disappointed.
I tore at the edges of my napkin, a million things bouncing off the edges of my mind.
“So how did you end up with this outfit?” Liam asked.
“I started at the magazine answering phones, and ended up taking some pictures that impressed the owner. He sent me out with Tyler, and my pictures got some local attention. So, here I am, shooting a series.”
“Worked your way up. I like that,” Liam said, drinking his soda as if it were a pint. He even tipped his plastic cup to greet other firefighters as they walked by.
“I hadn’t been at the magazine long when I was sent on my first assignment.”
“Even more impressive,” Liam said.
“Not really.” I shook my head and looked down.
“What did you do before?”
“Nothing. I went to college, barely graduated, and then traveled for a while. My parents have a house in Estes Park, so that’s how I ended up there.”
“Oh. What do you Americans call it? You’re a trust fund baby.”
“I guess I was.”
“But not anymore?”
“No, I was disowned, actually.”
“The longer I talk to you, the more interesting you are. It’s usually the opposite.”
I looked over at Liam, studying his features. He was such a stereotypical Australian man, with the strong chin, broad shoulders, and massive frame. His jaw was covered in light brown stubble, and his emerald irises were beautiful, albeit barely noticeable because of his narrow eyes. My first instinct was to invite him up to my room and forget about my fight with Tyler for an hour or two, but if the past five months had taught me anything, it was that I couldn’t screw, drink, or smoke away my problems. They would still be there in the morning, even worse than before.
Liam took another gulp of his soda, finishing it off. I’d barely touched mine.
“Starting over can be a bit depressing,” he said. “No one tells you that. You think you’re supposed to instantly feel better, and not knowing why you don’t can be bloody rough.”
“Don’t tell me you’re a trust fund baby,” I said, dubious.
“No. Working clears my head, but even that wasn’t helping anymore. I needed some distance.”
He looked around, over each shoulder, like whatever he had left behind might have followed him.
“But you feel better eventually, right?” I asked.
“I’ll let you know when it happens,” Liam said, standing.
Tyler rounded the corner but stopped when he recognized Liam and me sitting at the bar together.
“Best be off to the meeting,” Liam said.
“Good talk,” I said, raising my cup.
Liam clinked his empty glass to mine, and then left for the conference room.
Tyler paused for just a few seconds before making his way over to me. “What are you drinking?”
“Sprite. Get your own.”
He shook his head, scanning the lobby. “I’m a Cherry Coke guy.”
“Where’s Taylor?” I asked.
“Not here. Not yet, anyway. He called me earlier. He met a girl.”
“Here? A local?”
He shrugged. “He didn’t have a lot of time to talk. I guess she’s a waitress or something.”
“Interesting. Oh, fuck. Tyler,” I said, seeing Agent Trexler stop at the front desk. He flirted with Darby the desk clerk for a few seconds before heading toward the automatic doors, noticing Tyler as he passed through. When he didn’t stop, I exhaled a sigh of relief.
“Taylor’s got a handle on it,” Tyler said.
“How?”
“He just does. Gotta go.”
To my surprise, Tyler leaned down to kiss my cheek before following Liam to the conference room. When he opened the door, I saw a lot of official-looking people standing at the head of the table, holding down the newly unrolled papers fighting to return to their previous position. There were phone calls being made, tapping on iPads, and typing on laptops. The hotshots were standing around, waiting for orders while the TAC team gathered information. I saw some of my boys for half a second before the doors closed, arms crossed and looking tough until Puddin’ caught a glimpse of me and waved like a kid seeing his parents from the stage at a school recital.
“Hanging in there, Stavros?” Darby asked, leaning on the bar. Her white button-down was perfectly pressed, her red lips matte and perfectly lined, her black slacks lint-free, and her honey-colored mid-ponytail pulled tight, not a single hair out of place. With her curves and million-dollar smile, I wondered if Darby was a former pageant queen. Every movement she made was elegant, every smile planned.
I glanced over at her, immediately suspicious. Trexler had been flirting with her earlier. Maybe she was an agent, too.
“The firefighters don’t tip,” Stavros grumbled. “And so far, all of them are straight.”
“It’s been like this for a week,” Darby said, resting her chin on the heel of her hand.
I felt my body stiffen, worried to say or do anything that might help Trexler with his investigation of Tyler’s family.
“Are you all right?” Darby asked.
“Who was that guy who just left? The one who talked to you before rushing out the door?”
“Trex?” she asked, her eyes instantly sparkling at the sound of his name on her lips.
“Yeah,” I said.
“He’s a firefighter, staying here until the fire is out. He’s like … some kind of special crew. He’s not a hotshot or ground crew. He doesn’t really talk about it.”
“Like fire secret service?” I asked, only half-teasing.
She giggled, although the sound seemed awkward coming from her, as if she wasn’t used to laughing. “Probably. He’s about that uptight.”
“So you don’t know him?” I asked, wondering why he’d lied to her.
“A little.”
“Just a little?” Stavros said with a smirk.
“What about you?” Darby asked, combing through her hair with her fingers. Her brown eyes reminded me of Tyler’s: warm with gold tones and a lot of hurt behind them. “I’m guessing you’re a reporter from your card.”
“Photographer. I’m following the Alpines around.”
“Oh. I’ve met Taylor Maddox and Zeke Lund. They’re sweethearts. They’ve been hanging out with Trex.”
“They have?” I asked, confused.
“Yeah. Been up in his room almost every night since they got here.”
“How long has Trex been here?”
Darby shrugged, glancing behind her to check that no one was at the desk. “Two weeks. He got here before the fire started.”
My eyebrows pulled together. “That’s kind of weird.”
She smiled. “Maybe it’s not the fire secret service. Maybe it’s fire secret psychic.”
A family of four breezed in through the automatic doors, approaching the desk. Darby hopped up and returned to her station, greeting them with her red-rimmed smile.
The conference door opened, hemorrhaging hotshots and TAC team officials. I saw more than just my crew in there, and I wondered how many had been called to the Colorado Springs fire.
Tyler and Runt stood next to me, looking like father and son instead of crewmates. Runt was two heads shorter than Tyler, but just as strong. Like the other guys, Runt had leaned out over fire season, but even though he was the newest and smallest, he was usually the last one in the truck at the end of the day.
“What’s the verdict?” I asked.
Tyler crossed his arms, scanning the crowd forming in the lobby. “It’s deep. We’re going to ride in as far as we can, and then take a helo to the fire site. Alpine has the eastern edge.”
“Should I get my gear?” I asked.
Tyler cringed. “No.”
“What do you mean no? When are we headed out?”
“We’re not.”
I shook my head. “I don’t understand.”
“You’re not cleared to go. It’s a fast-moving fire. They’ve already had some close calls. The winds are changing by the hour, and it’s just not safe, Ellie.”
“It’s never safe,” I hissed.
“The only safe zone is the black.”
“Then I’ll shoot the black.”
“I won’t be in the black. They need me on the fire line.”
I turned my back to him, fuming. The decision wasn’t his, but knowing that didn’t help. “Did you at least stick up for me?”
“He vouched for you, Ellie,” Runt said. “We all did.”
“I could probably get my red card by now. This is some sexist bullshit,” I growled.
Tyler sighed. “There are half a dozen women out there right now. It’s not sexism; it’s a safety issue. No civilians on the mountain. They’ll reconsider when it’s closer to being controlled.”
I turned to him. “Are you fucking kidding me? Are you saying if I had a dick they wouldn’t let me up there with my press pass? A fire is never controlled. It’s never safe. You don’t know what it’s going to do. We all just hope it goes our way up there. Now I’m going to be shooting the horizon and the ground pounders mopping up when it’s over.”
“I told you not to come,” Tyler said, impatient with my tantrum. “We have to go. I’ll see you when I get back.”
“Get me out there,” I called after him. “Maddox!”
The crowd in the lobby quieted and watched Tyler walk away from me toward the elevators. I turned to face Stavros, trying to hold back angry tears.
“You said ‘dick,’” Stavros said. “I like you already.”
“Pour me a vodka tonic.”
Stavros smiled. “Really?”
“Really.”