Chapter 20

Present Day

 

“When do you go out on tour again?” I ask, taking a sip of hot coffee.

The three of us sit outside on the patio watching the sun rise over the hills and valleys of Nashville, coffees in hand. We’ve been up for the last thirty minutes, still unshowered with freshly rumpled bedhead from the night before.

The night before. Holy hell was that insane.

Best night of my life.

It’s ironic to think that I’ve experienced both the worst night and the best nights of my life with London and Sage at my side.

Last night, while incredible and memorable, will be a fleeting memory all too soon. Not something meant to last before we all go back to our normal lives. Sage had mentioned earlier that he’s about to embark on a 15-city U.S. tour and London will return to her job as a social worker and I’ll go back to fighting forest fires.

For obvious reasons, the summer months are the worst and require nearly all my time and effort. When called upon, smokejumpers can be away from home between two-days or two months, depending on the severity of the fires. I’ve been assigned outside of Tennessee to assist in other national fires several times in the last four years, especially in the west. I’ve been to Montana, Colorado, and California several times, serving with my brothers and fellow smokejumpers to preserve our natural resources.

We’ll be going our separate directions in the next 24-hours and that thought grips me in the heart like a vice.

Sage runs a hand through his dark, thick hair, the edges long enough to cover the nape of his neck.

“I have a show on Tuesday night in Philadelphia, then we tour around the east coast, down to Florida, and into Texas, I think.”

London makes a noise that encompasses both a sadness and a wistfulness, reaching to entwine her fingers through Sage’s. She peers up through her lashes and meets my gaze with a look of meaningful recognition to remind me of the reasons we came here in the first place.

Bending down, I place my elbows on my knees, cupping my chin in my hand.

“Sage, I know touring can’t be easy. Long hours. Endless nights. Probably some boredom. Bad influences.” I quirk an eyebrow at him in question, hoping he understands where I’m heading with my inquisition.

He shrugs noncommittally. “Yeah, sure. I guess.”

I lock eyes with London’s who stares me down with a pleading look. I know she wants me to say something more but it’s outside my comfort level. I’ve had opportunities to talk to firefighters in my crew about dealing with the devastating PTSD effects that come with losing their partners and crew members, but never about this with Sage.

In fact, there’s a lot of emotional baggage we’ve just swept under the rug during this impromptu weekend together. Things we really should clear the air about in the future. But one thing at a time.

“Okay, man. I’m not gonna beat around the bush here. Time’s short and I want to get it out in the open. We think you need some professional help.”

Sage’s eyes go wide and he snaps his head toward London, untethering his hand from hers and jumping to his feet.

Taking two steps forward, he swings back around, his ire directed at London.

“So that’s what this visit is about? You bullied him into coming and intervening on your behalf?”

I stand up, ready to defend London’s actions, but she beats me to it.

London reaches out with both hands toward Sage unconcerned with his hostility and anger. She wraps her arms around his waist and presses her head against his chest. I see him visibly relax, his body turning from stone into a mass of whipped butter.

She whispers softly against his shoulder. “Sage, we love you. And I’m scared for you long-term.”

He straightens his shoulders. “I’ve told you before, London. I’m fine. There’s nothing to worry about.”

I interrupt. “Then now’s the best time to get some help and support, while things are fine and you’re not dealing with all the pressure of the road. That’s all we want.”

Sage glares at me over the top of London’s head. “What the fuck would you know about the pressures of the road? And why suddenly are you so concerned over my well-being,”- he uses air quotes - “when you haven’t been around in ten years? You just wanted to get back into London’s pants and this was the best way to do it, wasn’t it? Through me. Per the usual.”

If he’d had punched me with a fist in the face, it wouldn’t have hurt as much as his words did. Or hit the mark so square on. I haven’t been around and have no business giving him advice on his life when I have made a fucking mess of my own. And because of my coward tendencies, I probably wouldn’t have slept with London had it not been made easier due to Sage’s presence and his participation.

But he is wrong about me not understanding the road. I’ve been there – in the Air Force when I was out on missions for long periods of time, leaving Taylor and Lisa on their own. Having him grow up from baby to toddler to little boy all the while I was gone. It sucked.

My tone is even and subdued. “You’re wrong about one thing. I do know what it’s like to be gone. I was away from my son so often that he’d cry when I came home because he didn’t recognize me. It was also one of the reasons my marriage ended. I’ve lost men on my crew from wildfires that took their life without any thought to what they were leaving behind. The same holds true for addictions, bro. If you don’t do something to stem the fires, it’ll blaze out of control, killing everything in its path.”

As if the universe wants to ensure it plays a part in the conclusion of this reunion, my phone alert blares from inside my jeans pocket.

It stops the conversation between the three of us as I pull out the bat-phone, as my son calls it, and look at the incoming message.

Alert: All smokejumpers on deck. Smoky Mountain Forest Fire in progress. Uncontained. Evacuations required. Report to base within two hours.