The sound of the helicopter blades whacking through the air had me glancing pointlessly toward the sky. Though I knew there was a helicopter flying above, I couldn’t see a damn thing. The smoke was thick in the sky where we were, the wind gusting the smoke from the fire only a few miles away.

My crew was here with Cade’s. This fire had ballooned out of control with the wind whipping it wildly. The interior of Alaska was mostly hundreds of miles of wilderness. Nothing but trees, better known as fuel when you’re a hotshot firefighter.

It had been a full week since we’d flown up here, and I was exhausted, along with my entire crew. I heard my name and turned back to see Jesse approaching. It was hard to know what time of day it was. Even though it was late summer, in northern Alaska that still meant long days. Through the smoke above us, the sun was nothing but a hazy halo.

I took my gloves off and glanced at my watch to see that it was going on seven in the evening. Jesse reached my side, tugging his gear off of his face. With the smoke mostly blowing above our heads, it was safe to remove our respirators.

He nudged his chin beyond my shoulder. “That should be Fred coming down over there,” he commented.

Fred Banks was a well-known bush pilot. He flew planes and helicopters and spent most of the summer working for hotshot firefighter crews all across Alaska. Flying might not be as physically taxing as what we did, but it was just as dangerous in the backcountry. Conditions could shift rapidly, and it was isolated out here.

We’d spent the last three days setting up firebreaks along two intersecting rivers in this area. Fred was due to pick us up and return us to a base camp where there was a gear tent, along with a medical tent and a place to sleep outside of the smoke for a few nights. If the weather held, we might be finishing up our rotation out here in the next few days.

I caught Jesse‘s eyes and clapped him on the shoulder. “Good. Let’s head that way. You rounded up the rest of the guys?” I asked.

Jesse nodded and started walking, throwing his heavy bag of gear over his shoulder. He was one of my foremen, and I relied on him out in the field. Grabbing the chainsaw I’d been using, I slung my gear over my shoulders and walked at his side.

Lucy sashayed into my thoughts, as she did almost any free moment. I was thankful hard work kept me focused and distracted. Because otherwise I missed her so damn much, it hurt.

Missing her was akin to a physical ache, something I’d never experienced before. My mind spun back to our last night together. She’d startled me by saying she would miss me. The following morning, she’d become distant.

She’d been tense, and I’d wanted to wrap her in my arms, hold her tight and tell her not to worry. Yet, I knew she was worrying—about us, about me—and that I needed not to push too hard. I loved her independence, her strength, her intelligence and her willpower. It hurt me to recognize how she was terrified to allow herself to need anyone.

I’d been turning thoughts of her in my mind like a worry stone—contemplating how to get through the last of her reservations, how to get her to understand I didn’t want to take anything from her. I simply wanted to be there for her, to love her.

I’d yet to come up with an answer on how to make any of that happen. Even now, I gave myself a mental shake. Not a damn thing I could do out here in the middle of the wilderness, facing down a fire.

I loved her. I sensed she loved me.

Yet, I knew that wasn’t something she wanted to feel. My last call with her had been a disaster when we’d been at the base camp. There was no reception to speak of in the middle of the wilderness, but the base camp was within range of the cell towers in Fairbanks.

She’d gotten angry when I said I missed her and ended up blurting out the whole ugly story about what happened before she went to foster care. Then, she hung up on me. We hadn’t spoken again.

I’d been desperate to talk to her again, but she didn’t answer my calls or my texts that day. Now I understood why my mother hadn’t filled in the blanks for me. Lucy—proud, strong as hell, independent as hell—wouldn’t want anyone to know how vulnerable she’d been. She would’ve been infuriated to learn I’d heard the story from someone else. Hell, I had no doubt she was furious with herself for telling me. Then, we flew out to the middle of nowhere.

I knew it wasn’t helpful, but I was frustrated. Even though my heart ached for how she felt and how her past had hurt her, it hurt to have her shut me out like this. She wasn’t giving me a damn chance.

I heard the helicopter coming down to land not too far ahead. The smoke was thinning as the wind blew it away. Most of the crew was already waiting in the small, level clearing. I did a quick headcount, calculating that some of us would need to wait behind until Fred, or another pilot, could return later.

There was no way in hell all twenty of us could fit in that helicopter. I wondered if another helicopter was on its way. When we were this far out, we never knew which helicopters were being used solely to drop fire retardant and which could also be used for transport. All I focused on was whatever we needed to do to get the fire contained. We had contained it fairly well. The river should hold it, along with the wide firebreaks we’d established.

Cade’s crew had been working on an opposite corner of the massive fire. He’d radioed with updates and should be meeting us here shortly.

Once he’d settled the helicopter to a landing, Fred climbed out and waved me over. His blue eyes crinkled at the corners with his smile and his gray hair was rumpled from the wind. After a quick greeting, he got right to business. “So who should I cart out first?” he asked.

I glanced to Jesse who gestured to a cluster of our crew sitting on the ground. They’d been the first to arrive here, so they’d done a full extra day of work. Weather had delayed the rest of us.

“Take as many as you can for now. I’ll wait back with Jesse and the rest,” I replied.

Fred nodded and turned away, calling to the crew. In short order, over half of our crew lifted up in the air with a wave from Fred. Jesse was planning to return to a location roughly a mile in and pick up some gear left behind after a firefighter on another crew had been injured. The crew hadn’t been able to carry everything out when they needed to transport him. Nothing major, but he’d broken his ankle, so he certainly couldn’t shoulder his heavy gear.

I settled in to wait, sipping water and hoping the weather would hold for the next few hours.

After a few minutes, I heard my name. I glanced over to see Cade approaching. Beck was at his side. Both of them looked pretty much the way I figured I did—their faces streaked with soot, their shoulders drooping from the weight of their gear, and their eyes weary.

They tossed their gear on the ground beside me and sat down. I handed a water bottle to Cade as Beck spoke.

“What’s the schedule for the next helicopter?” he asked.

I looked up at the sky, clouds drifting against the blue backdrop as the smoke cleared. “Fred figured he’d be back for another pick up this evening. He said he’d radio after he checks on the schedule to see if there’s another pilot who has room for a pick up.”

I glanced beyond into the trees to see if anyone else was approaching. “Where’s the rest of your crew?” I asked.

Cade drained his water bottle before answering. “They already left. We stayed behind last night. We helped Matt from the other crew get carried out, but left our gear in the process. So we headed back to pick it up this afternoon.”

“Well, there’s a small enough group left. We’ll fit in one helicopter. Unless there’s somebody else who’s about to show up.”

Cade chuckled and shook his head. “Nope. Just us.”

We lapsed into quiet, resting against our bags. I was starting to wonder where Jesse was when my radio crackled. I tugged it off my bag. “Yeah?”

“Levi, we got a problem,” Jesse said quickly.

“What’s that?”

“I just got charged by a bull moose. You’re not gonna fucking believe it, but I slipped and sprained my damn ankle.”

Jesse sounded more annoyed than anything. Cade met my eyes and swore under his breath.

“How bad is it? I’ll come meet you, but do I need to bring anybody with me?” I asked.

“I don’t think so. I can’t put much weight on it. As long as I’m not dealing with my gear and the chainsaw, I can limp along.”

“And where’s that moose?” I asked.

Jesse chuckled. “He bolted after I started up the chainsaw to scare him off.”

“Okay, I’ll be there in a bit.”

I stood and glanced between Beck and Cade. “If Fred comes, radio me with a timeline. Looks like we can make it back before it’s dark. I’ll radio once we’re on our way back.”

With a wave, I turned to leave. For a moment, I considered leaving my gear behind. But that wasn’t smart. My best guess was Jesse was about a mile in. Even though we had a good distance between the fire and us and the wind had shifted direction, I didn’t want to be stupid.

The brief rest had been enough to rejuvenate me, so I hiked quickly. Being a hotshot firefighter meant being accustomed to grueling work and drawing energy out of empty reserves sometimes. It wasn’t long before I reached Jesse. He was exactly where he told me he would be, propped on the ground with the chainsaw to his side and leaning on his bag of gear. He looked up with a grin when I reached him.

“Anything to get you to hike somewhere,” he offered with a wink.

“How bad is your pain?” I asked with a chuckle.

He shrugged. “It’s there. Nothing I can’t manage.”

Reaching down, I gripped his hand and assisted him to standing. He’d already put a brace on his ankle. I doubled up our gear bags on my shoulders and carried the chainsaw as we started to walk out.

Jesse’s pace was slow, but steady. We’d maybe walked for about ten minutes when I felt the wind shifting again and the sound of hooves approaching from behind us. I glanced to Jesse.

“Please tell me that’s not another moose,” I commented, knowing perfectly well it was. I hadn’t grown up roaming the wilderness of Alaska without knowing the distinct, rangy gait of a moose.

He caught my eyes and shrugged. “Probably is. Best bet is to run that chainsaw for a second.”

Before I had a chance to do exactly that, three moose ran into our line of sight, including a rather irate looking bull moose with a massive set of antlers.

The bull moose paused in his pursuit of the two female moose, pawing the ground and snorting as he turned to face us through the trees.

I started up the chainsaw, but this time it didn’t do a damn thing. The moose snorted again and took a few more strides in our direction. For the most part, moose weren’t aggressive. The only exceptions were when you encountered a mother protecting her calves, bull moose during mating season, which was inconveniently now, and if you happened to startle one. They were near-sighted, so they often didn’t see you approaching and could easily startle.

Spinning in a circle, I scanned the area. The moose was between us and where we needed to go. With Jesse’s ankle in bad shape, we couldn’t take a roundabout route. The landing area for the helicopters was roughly a half mile away directly ahead.

I radioed Cade. “Hey man, we’re dealing with an annoyed moose. We’re probably going to be late. If Fred gets there soon, no need to wait for us.”

“I was about to radio as it is,” Cade replied. “He radioed not long after you left. Another helicopter just landed. You sure you don’t want us to wait?”

I glanced ahead at the moose. He was no longer snorting and pawing the ground, but he hadn’t moved yet.

“How long can the pilot wait?”

Cade’s voice was muffled and then he returned. “He thinks about a half hour.”

“Got it. I’ll see if I can chase this guy off.”

Signing off, I glanced to Jesse. We carried side arms whenever we were out in the backcountry. Not because we ever intended to shoot any animal, but the Alaskan wilderness came with some distinct dangers. In this area, grizzlies were the primary concern, moose secondary. Further north, there were polar bears, and further south, brown bears, the grizzly’s larger cousins. At the moment, all we needed to do was get this bull moose to focus back on the ladies in his life.

Jesse nudged my shoulder. “Turn around, so I can snag my shotgun.”

Turning, I glanced over my shoulder as he snagged his shotgun from where it was lashed onto his gear bag. “Hold off,” I said.

He nodded. “Of course. I’m just gonna set off a warning shot.”

Several warning shots later and a few more rips of the chainsaw, and it was clear this bull moose wasn’t going anywhere, not for the time being. He’d settled in to nibble on some alders in the edge of the trees.