Fire has its own language.

It’s only heard by those that have witnessed its beauty, only understood by those who have seen its destruction.

I speak it fluently.

I listen.

It listens.

It invades my dreams.

Like now.

I know I’m asleep. I’m a lucid dreamer more often than not, always aware that I’m sleeping, that this isn’t real, always trying to be in control of the situation.

I rarely am.

Right now I’m standing at the edge of a forest, right along a freshly dug fireline. An axe and hoe lie beside me, the tips of my worn boots pressed against the earth of the line. This line is the lifesaver, the land saver, the fire stopper. The fire will race and rage, consuming all brush and life in its path until it reaches this dirt. Then it will stop.

But here, now, in this dream, I’m staring deep into the forest and I’m waiting. The trees are close together and thick, a hybrid of pine and fir, and they’re already dead. Each tree is charred, spindly-limbed, and interlocked with each other like blackened figures forming a chain.

I’m waiting and I’m listening.

The fire is speaking.

I can’t see it but I can feel the heat, the glow, as it gets closer and closer, coming from somewhere behind the black curtain of trees. The hiss and whine and crackle and roar of the flames all sing the same song in a different pitch. They all say the same thing.

I am coming for you.

I hear malevolence in the tone even though I know that fire doesn’t take sides. It isn’t evil, just as the air or any other element isn’t evil. It’s apathetic in its destruction, it’s humble in the way it renews. It may roar like a tornado and rumble the ground like a 747, but its intentions are always neutral.

But here, now, in this dark shadowy place, it tells me it is coming for me.

It will not bring about my rebirth.

It will only destroy.

The fire roars louder, like I’m surrounded by a busy interstate highway.

I start to see light through the trees, a warm orange glow that spreads and spreads until suddenly the fire has legs, galloping toward me like a herd of wild horses made of flames.

It rushes at me and I’m hit with a wall of heat that makes my eyelashes burn off, my nostrils singe.

The line holds it back, the fire licking the dirt but unable to go forward. There’s nothing left to burn.

I stare into the flames like I’ve done so many times before, often hypnotized. I see faces. Mouths open, screaming. I see animals fleeing, lit on fire. Deer, bears, rabbits. I see a woman, the same woman I always see. She never runs. She just stands still and watches me with unseen eyes until she is burned alive.

I have a feeling she’s dead to begin with.

I have a feeling she’s my mother.

A flame reaches forward like a hand, fingers outstretched toward the dirt line.

It jumps across in an arc of flames.

Wraps right around my throat, squeezes me with a pain I’ve never known.

And in that moment, the moment of my death, I realize there’s nothing to fear.

It’s just relief.

That it’s all over.

That I don’t have to worry anymore.

That I don’t have to live in pain anymore.

That I don’t have to hate anymore.

The world burns away and somewhere in the dark skeleton forest, I know there is peace.

Just out of reach.

I wake up with a gasp, my throat and lungs feeling like they’ve been burned from the inside. This isn’t because of any dream though. After being on the job, it’s only natural. Even though we often wear masks when we fight the fires, the damage still takes place.

I roll over, trying to breathe, my eyes lazily focusing on the glass of water and the pills beside me on the nightstand, then on the light streaming in through the blinds behind it.

I clear my throat as I sit up, coughing, then take three pills from the vial and slam them back in my mouth, swallowing them down with the water.

A rustle sounds from the corner of the room and despite myself, I’m smiling. I get to my feet and walk over to the wire cage I had got from the pet store the other day and crouch down until I’m at eye level with the shoebox I had placed inside it.

I wait and watch, seeing the box twitch until finally a bunch of wood shavings spill out of the hole I had cut in the side, followed by a tiny head with big eyes.

I still don’t have a name for him. I still think I’m a bit insane for doing this in the first place.

The day our team was sent home, after the biggest blazes had been contained and the replacement crew had been trucked in, I was walking just outside the perimeter of the fireline where the fire didn’t touch the forest and saw a small creature wriggling beside some leaves. It was a baby squirrel, just past the stage of opening its eyes, skinny, small, with a thin coat of fur.

I don’t know why I did what I did. I’ve seen so many horrible things in this line of work, usually I’m numb to it. Or maybe I did it because of all the death. Sometimes, after the fire has burned through an area and you’re in there, looking for any flare-ups, you’ll find wild animals frozen in spot, encased in ash. So many of them never escape the fires and are torched along with the landscape, sometimes a shade of nuclear white.

But this time, I felt hope. Like this was something I needed to do. I was tired of seeing so many things burn and die. So I searched the squirrel’s nest and found it abandoned. The mother may have already fled from the fires, leaving the baby behind.

That settled it. I picked up the baby squirrel and brought it back to camp inside the pocket of my jacket. I went into the mess hall and took a Tupperware container that I lined with fabric, then went to the medics and asked them for anything that could help. They armed me with Pedialyte and a medicinal syringe.

Now that I’m back home, I’m wondering if I’ve made some mistake. I’m not the type of person to have a pet of any kind and I know the right thing to do would be to get the squirrel to a wildlife rehabber because who knows when I’ll be called out again.

And because of that, I need help.

I watch as the squirrel ducks its head back in the box and know I have to feed it soon since I gave it applesauce and water just before I went to sleep last night. But I don’t want to do it alone.

I pick up my cell and text Delilah, even though it’s early.

You up?

I wait for her response and when I don’t see one right away, I go into the kitchen and make myself a pot of coffee. Like I’ve been noticing ever since Maverick moved out a few months ago, the house feels too big, too empty. There’s a loneliness in these walls that was never there before, something ominous and dark that presses around me.

I try to shake it off and take a moment to turn my face into the sun coming in through the kitchen window, trying to remember what feeling safe feels like. Then I take a bottle of whisky out from the cupboard and pour a large splash in my cup.

I’ve gone through two cups of coffee by the time Del responds.

I am up now, what’s up?

I text: I meant to ask you at the bar last night but I need your help with something. Come over?

The three dots appear and disappear.

Finally: When?

Now, I text back.

Why?

For some reason I feel a sharpness in my chest. Normally Del wouldn’t hesitate or question. Maybe she’s just in an off mood, although that’s rare with her. Even on my darkest days, she’s always been the sun.

I need your help. Come over.

I’ll be bossy if I need to.

A few moments pass before I see that she’s typing.

K, give me a few

I smile in relief and then get out the honey from the cupboard, knowing exactly how Del likes her coffee and that she’ll want one as soon as she steps inside.

She lives on the other side of town, but it’s a small town, so twenty minutes later Del is knocking on my front door.

Which, again, is odd because normally she walks right in like she owns the place.

I open the door and give her a puzzled look.

“Why did you knock? Did you forget I live here?”

She gives me a quick smile, not as broad as it usually is, and still doesn’t come in. “I thought maybe you had company over.”

Oh. Right. That.

Julie.

I had wondered if it was going to be weird between us when I started seeing her. I don’t know why it had even crossed my mind, I guess because the last time I was seriously dating someone was a long time ago. About the same time Del was engaged to that douchebag, Bobby Barrett.

And Del and I are just friends. Hell, she’s practically my sister, the girl who grew up next door to me on the ranch, her mother my nanny. This sort of shit shouldn’t matter at all. I’m just going to blame Maverick for this, he’s always hinting at something going on between the two of us, even though there isn’t.

Not that I haven’t thought about it. I mean, that’s only natural, isn’t it? Del is a beautiful girl, always has been. Even now as she stands in the morning sunshine, wearing just a grey tank top and black leggings, her face free of makeup, hair pulled back into the usual ponytail, she looks like she could be a runway model. Her face is both angular and round, with the brightest smile I’ve ever seen. She has a sweet, unassuming beauty that stirs something in your soul.

It doesn’t help that she’s not wearing a bra. I have to avert my eyes, lest I start leering at her. That’s something that definitely does my head in and I have to remind myself that she’s family and it’s just so fucking wrong to even think of her that way.

“No, it’s just me,” I tell her. Kinda. I open the door even wider. “You coming in or what?”

She gingerly comes inside and looks around. “So how long are you going to keep me in suspense for?”

“Huh?”

“Why am I here?”

Do you have somewhere else to be? I frown. “Are you okay? PMSing?”

She rolls her eyes and punches me in the shoulder. Now that’s more like it. “Shut up. And no. I’m just tired…it was a late night last night.” She seems to think what she says over, rubbing her lips together. “Anyway.”

Without thinking, I reach out and grab her hand for a moment, leading her toward the stairs that lead up to the rest of the house. It’s a ski-lodge style chalet which means that the first floor is basically a basement and garage, with the second-floor housing the bedrooms, bathrooms, kitchen and living room. I bought it about five years ago and Mav was my roommate until he fell in love with Riley and they found a place together.

I don’t know if it’s my imagination that Del seems to snatch her hand away pretty fast when we reach the main level and I start to let go. I ignore it and usher her into my bedroom.

She stops in her tracks, noticing the cage before anything else and points at it. “What is that?”

“That’s what I need your help with,” I tell her.

She steps back as I open the cage and take out the box, placing it on the dresser before lifting the lid.

“Oh my god,” she says breathlessly, hand at her chest. “Is that a…a baby squirrel?”

I can’t help but grin. The squirrel is sitting up, or attempting to, and looking at us with wide-eyes, nestled deep in its bedding. “That’s exactly what it is.”

“And why do you have a squirrel?” she asks, her voice still high and breathy and I watch as she wiggles her fingers at it, a wide awestruck smile on her face. She looks positively radiant, causing my chest to feel hot. It’s amazing the affect she has on people and she doesn’t even know it.

“It was orphaned. I found it beside a nest, right near the fireline. On the side that wasn’t burned. The mother must have fled from the fire but ended up leaving this one behind.”

“Oh poor thing,” she coos at it and I swear it cocks its head and looks at her. Then Del glances at me with a soft look in her eyes. “I can’t believe you did that.”

I shrug. “I can’t either. I guess I was just tired of everything dying all the time. I couldn’t let this little guy go.”

She stares at me for a moment and I hold her eyes and wonder what she’s thinking. Sometimes she looks at me with an admiration that I don’t deserve. I often think it’s because of my job—it’s amazing the amount of respect you get when people find out you’re a wildland firefighter. But when I think about it, Del was looking at me that way even when we were growing up. God knows why. I never did a thing to deserve it.

I clear my throat. “Anyway, I need your help. I don’t know what the hell I’m doing.”

She shakes her head, looking back to the squirrel. “And you think I do?”

“I don’t know, you’re a woman. You seem maternal,” I tell her.

Her eyes roll. “And apparently so do you since you’ve kept this little thing alive so far. You mean to tell me you’ve had a baby squirrel since you got back?”

I nod. “I know I should give it to a wildlife rehabber, which is where I thought you’d come in.”

She straightens up and gives me a wry grin. “Fox, I am many things but I am not a wildlife rehabber nor a baby squirrel mama.”

“I’ll be called back out again soon, there are already fires cropping up in the Okanogan. Who is going to take care of him then?”

“How do you know it’s a he?” she asks, smiling at the squirrel again. “Did you check?”

“Well I have been feeding it. Here, let me show you how to do it.”

I reach in and bring the squirrel out, holding it gently in my hand while I bring out the syringe I preloaded with baby sauce. The squirrel immediately reaches out with its tiny hands, grabbing onto my fingers and the end of the syringe as I very slowly push the applesauce out. I can feel its heart beating rapidly against my skin but I know it’s not scared. This little guy doesn’t know fear yet.

“Oh my god,” Del whispers, coming in close to watch. “Fox, this is the cutest most precious thing I have ever seen. I might die.”

“It’s pretty easy so far,” I tell her as the squirrel eagerly slurps down the sauce. “I alternate between this and baby formula. Don’t worry, I looked it all up. It’s what the online help things recommend.”

“Can I try?” Del asks hopefully.

“Be my guest.” I delicately take the squirrel and place it in Del’s hands, then hand her the syringe. The squirrel seems only a bit hesitant to feed—I guess he’s used to me already—but then as Del coos and beams at it, the squirrel finally begins eating again, nose twitching.

“He is so adorable,” she says softly, looking up at me with big eyes. “Does he have a name?”

“All I got so far is Squirrel Nutkin. Remember him? Your mother got you all those Beatrix Potter books for your birthday one year.”

She looks momentarily flattered then shakes her head. “No way. Do you even remember that story? He taunts the owl, provoking him to do something until the owl finally bit off his tail. I don’t blame him. Squirrel Nutkin was an asshole.”

I laugh. “Well I’m an asshole too, so I guess he takes after me.”

“Yeah you’re right.”

I give her a wry grin. “Hey.”

“You’re my kind of asshole,” she says. Then I swear to god she blushes at that. She quickly clears her throat. “So back to the name.”

“You name him.”

“Why me?”

“Because you’ll be taking care of him.”

“Fox,” she says, her gaze sharp. “You can’t just give me this responsibility.”

I shrug. “I need your help. You’re welcome to find a wildlife rehabber in town. I just know that when I go, he needs someone to look after him and that someone should be you.”

“What about Julie?” she asks in a light tone, her eyes focused on the squirrel.

I frown. “What about Julie?”

“She’s your girlfriend isn’t she? Maybe she should be taking care of him.”

It’s almost as if I hear a challenge in her voice. “Del. You’re my closest friend. Maverick is never around and I’m pretty sure his dog would try to eat him. My dad would probably shoot the thing. My grandpa would forget to feed it. Shane…”

“Yeah, why not ask Shane?”

“Nah,” I say quickly, not wanting to involve him. “He’s got too much on his plate right now with the ranch and the wedding. Same goes for Rachel. Riley is just as busy as Maverick is, especially now that they’re living together and probably fucking like idiots every chance they get. Then there’s the guys from my team and that doesn’t help much better. You’re my only hope, Del,” I tell her in my best Princess Leia voice, which isn’t very good.

“But what about Julie?”

Jesus, what is with her harping on about Julie?

I cock a brow. “Julie is great, but you know we’ve only been dating for a few weeks and most of that I was away.”

“Where did you meet her?” Her voice has dropped, grown quieter. I guess these are totally normal questions, especially since I’d only introduced the two of them last night and with Del getting so busy at the bar, they never really had a chance to talk.

“She moved to town a few months ago from Vancouver, has a teaching gig at the high school in the fall. Math.”

“Oh,” she says. “Then she’s smart.”

I give her a funny look. “Of course she’s smart. You think I’d go out with someone who wasn’t?”

“I don’t know,” she says carefully. “I never really see you with anyone.”

She’s right about that but still. “Anyway, we met at the grocery store.”

“How cute.”

“I thought you of all people would approve,” I tell her, getting annoyed.

“And why would you think that?”

We stare at each other for a few long seconds until I realize the food is all gone and the squirrel is trying to wriggle out of her grasp.

“Here, give him to me,” I tell her, opening her hands and removing him. Sometimes I’ve been letting him hang out in the pocket of my bathrobe as I walk around the house but now I just put him back in his box, then back in his cage.

Something has changed in the air around us, there’s tension where there was never tension before. At least nothing I’ve picked up on. I don’t see why me dating Julie could be making things worse, unless Del is jealous.

The thought creeps into my brain slowly.

Could Del actually be jealous of Julie?

Why?

“Hey,” I say to her gruffly, taking a step closer. “You have nothing to worry about with Julie.”

“Nothing to worry about?” she squeaks, looking up at me.

I put my hand on her shoulder, the heat of her soft bare skin feels like electricity to my palm. I give it a gentle squeeze. “You’ll always be one of my best friends, Del. Aside from Maverick, you know me best. You always have. That doesn’t change when I start dating someone else. You should know that.”

She slowly stiffens under my grasp until I take my hand away and she swallows hard. “I know. I’m sure Julie is great. I’m sorry I didn’t get a chance to properly meet her.”

“Well you will tomorrow night, dinner at the ranch. I know you and your mom are coming, right? Unless it’s just wishful thinking on my grandfather’s behalf.”

“No,” she says quietly. “We’re coming.”

“Great,” I say but for some fucking reason it sounds forced. “So about the squirrel…”

She sighs and runs her hands down her face. “Fine. I’ll take him.”

“You don’t have to now, just come by here when I’m gone and feed him, spend time with him.”

“I thought you wanted me to take him completely,” she says folding her arms. “Then find him a proper home or return him to the wild.”

“I do…but maybe the change of environment would be too jarring for him.” The truth is though, I think I just want Del in my house when I’m gone. I hate leaving, I hate the pressure and the strain and the danger of the job, feeling precarious from one second to the next, then coming home to this empty place. The silence, the hollowness, it starts to choke me sometimes. A panic attack or something that sneaks up from behind. My mind starts wandering, then racing, toward something thick and dark.

If Del were here, she would give warmth and life to the place, like she always does. Even The Bear Trap, forever our watering hole, took on a whole new life and vibrancy once she took ownership. She has this talent of turning everything to gold.

“You sure?” she finally says, seeming to consider it.

“I’m sure.”

“Okay,” she says. A small smile tugs at the corners of her lips. “On one condition.”

“What?”

“You give him a name. Now. And no, not Squirrel Nutkin.”

I gnaw on my lip for a moment as I peer down at the squirrel’s tiny face. For a moment I think of calling him Avocado since he seemed to go crazy for the little mushed bits of avocado I’d given him yesterday. Then the hint of red fur along his sides, and his tiny size, gives me an idea.

“Conan,” I say and the moment I say it, it already feels right.

But Del doesn’t look too impressed. “Like Conan O’Brien or Conan the Barbarian?”

“Both. He may be small but he is mighty.”

She laughs. “All right. I guess we’ll have to do with Conan.” She looks at the time on her phone. “Oh, I should probably get going.”

“Why?” I ask. “I was hoping we could get lunch together at Smitty’s.”

She cocks her head at me, as if what I’ve said has completely puzzled her. The wheels are turning behind her eyes but for the life of me I can’t figure out what she’s thinking. We usually get lunch there.

“My mom has a doctor’s appointment, I’m taking her,” she finally explains, heading out of my bedroom and toward the stairs. “I’ll see you tomorrow night.”

She gives me a slight wave and with that, she’s gone, leaving me and Conan alone with that strange tension again.

“That, my tiny squirrel friend,” I say to Conan, “is a woman. They’re just as confusing as they are beautiful.”

I swear he squeaks back at me in agreement.