Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 96165 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 481(@200wpm)___ 385(@250wpm)___ 321(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96165 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 481(@200wpm)___ 385(@250wpm)___ 321(@300wpm)
“Can’t.” Their eyes continued to hold, and he wasn’t sure who closed the gap. Maybe him. But suddenly they were embracing, a tight hug.
“Fuck. This is so fucking hard.” His voice was thick, muffled by Linc’s neck, right there. He smelled like the same combo of shampoo and classic aftershave he’d used as long as Jacob could remember and felt so damn solid and real in his arms. Eyes burning, Jacob held on even as Linc pushed him against the wall. “Hurts.”
“I know. Me too. Doesn’t end. Keeps coming.”
“Yeah.” He had to swallow hard, trying to not give in to the tears that had threatened all damn day. And when Linc’s mouth slammed down on his, he welcomed it, water for his parched soul, soaking up the contact, meeting him, desperation for desperation, desire for desire. Linc tasted like the black coffee he’d been downing all day and sweet like the cake foisted on them and like five years of pent-up need. Or maybe that last bit was all Jacob, relief and grief at war in his psyche as he clung to Linc for all he was worth.
Now all he had was the memory of that taste, that need, that desperation. And every time their eyes met, he swore he could see memories of that kiss in Linc’s gaze, heat still flaring between them, brighter than ever. Fuck. Why on earth had he thought that working together would be a simple matter? Seeing Linc like this, every damn day, was going to be torture.
At least he had the hope of being paired with a different crew for the close work. Maybe if he only had to see Linc here and there, in the locker room, at big meetings, it wouldn’t be so bad. And indeed, tuning Linc out, focusing on the hands-on demonstration portion of the pre-jump training was a good call as plenty of important information was shared about all the steps that went into being ready to jump. Planning. Prep. Equipment readiness. Escape plans. Alternate options. Checks. And cross-checks.
Their first jump would be a very straightforward tandem jump, equivalent to a civilian sightseeing leap, none of their extra equipment and such yet, but still the instructors drilled them on each step of the process until a late lunch break. As they sat around the main training room with their food, several of the instructors passed out the afternoon’s agenda and their team/mentor assignments.
“Thank God.” Next to him, Kelley smiled broadly as she looked down at her paper. “McKenna’s crew. You were right. I don’t recognize the other two names, but it’s not Ross. Who’d you get?”
What he saw on his almost made him choke on his sandwich.
“What?” Kelley looked ready to whack him on the back.
“Linc. They gave me Linc.” Oh, fuck.
Chapter Five
“Good. That worked out how I hoped.” Garrick nodded as he folded his assignment sheet, neat creases that would undoubtedly become a bird or rabbit. But Linc was less interested in his origami than his words as he gaped at his own sheet.
“What do you mean? You asked for Jacob?” He shook the paper like that might make it say something other than that Jacob was assigned to him, Garrick and Ray for the season, the higher-ups apparently having decided to slot Jacob right into the spot Wyatt had vacated.
“Well, duh. How are we gonna keep him safe for his mom if we can’t keep an eye on him?” Garrick’s tone said that Linc was an idiot for not thinking of this idea himself. “And we were going to need a fourth, one way or another. Word is that they’re going to move Ray into more of the spotter role for us—keep him on the plane this season, then see about him becoming a foreman next year.”
With each operation, one person always remained on the plane, coordinating the jump from the air, selecting the landing spots, relaying data from jumpers on the ground about wind and terrain factors, dispatching additional jumpers as needed, and coordinating the necessary cargo drop after the jumpers were on the ground. Last season, Ray had been their jumper-in-charge, relaying information from the fire back to dispatch and helping to establish safety zones and escape routes, so moving him to spotter was a natural progression, even if Linc didn’t like it.
“Yeah.” Ray nodded, setting aside his sandwich. “That’s the talk Alder and I had yesterday. I’m getting old.”
“You’re not that old,” Linc protested. Ray had maybe six years on him and Garrick, but Linc didn’t like thinking of any of them as old or washed, even if he felt like it some days.
“I am. Staying fit enough for jump readiness is more and more of a challenge. I don’t want to let you guys down, and management has always been my goal. God knows Betsy wants me off the fire line anyhow. You’ll be jumper-in-charge when it’s the three of you, then follow seniority for the larger operations. It’ll work out, Linc. You’ll see.”