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)
“Sounds good.” Typical Garrick, inviting himself along, but Linc wasn’t going to complain. He didn’t mind the company. It was just weird, being back in the thick of team camaraderie after a long, too-quiet winter with all those thoughts of moving on plaguing him.
“Reid? A word?” Alder came over, his gait halting after decades of jumping had done his knees in, but his voice was as firm as ever. The base superintendent was an institution, and while he had plenty of capable staff under him, he ran a tight ship for the seventy-odd jumpers based out of Painter’s Ridge.
“Sure thing.” Brushing crumbs away, Linc stood and followed Alder to the edge of the room.
“I looked into that matter you brought up earlier. The Hartman rookie’s certifications are all in order. He did extra continuing ed classes over the winter too. Exemplary rec from his hotshot crew chief from last summer. Why exactly did you think he might be missing paperwork?” Alder’s shrewd eyes narrowed.
Damn it. It had been a long shot, but Linc had hoped Jacob’s well-known dislike of the classroom and his changeable, impulsive nature would mean some required certification in his record might be lacking. Jacob had bounced around the past few years, and to be fair, he’d collected good experience on various summer crews. However, his winters had been spent trying on different college programs and job options, to the point that the family all joked about his inability to stay put in any one situation. And not that he wanted to impugn Jacob’s character, but him missing one of the requirements would have been an easy way to get him kicked back to one of the safer crews. And now Linc was going to pay the price for questioning it, looking like an idiot.
So he went for the only other path that might work. Honesty. “His mother doesn’t want him here. Wyatt’s... It’s just too soon.”
Alder released a heavy sigh while he leaned against the wall. “I’m not unsympathetic to the loss of the Hartman family. Or you personally, for that matter. You guys went way back. Wyatt was a tragedy for us all. And I’m not discounting that loss, but this is one of the most qualified rookies in the class. He’s applied the last four years running after putting in time as a volunteer and then later paid, racking up the hours. To my mind, he’s more than earned his chance.”
“I understand.” Linc didn’t have to like it, but he did understand. And Alder was right. Jacob had earned a chance through hard work and long summers, but that didn’t mean that Linc was done trying to change his mind. Just meant that he wouldn’t try to go through Alder to do it. He could respect the hell out of Jacob and still know in his bones that this was the wrong choice for him.
“How about you? You ready? When we pulled young Hartman’s record, I couldn’t help but notice that some of your own certs barely squeaked in by the deadline. You seem fit enough, but what about up here?” Alder tapped his temple. “No shame in admitting if you need more time.”
“I’ll be fine.” Linc’s voice came out harsher than he intended, so he tried again. “I appreciate the concern, sir. My head’s in the game.”
God, he hoped he wasn’t lying, hoped he’d made the right call, sticking around here rather than moving on.
“See to it.” Alder nodded at him, then lumbered away back to Sims, who was at the head of the room, ready to call them to attention.
The afternoon was an in-depth tour of the facilities for the rookies and equipment inventory for the returnees, getting everything in order for the start of jump training. It was boring but necessary work, checking every connection, every strap, every piece of harness and rigging that had overwintered in the equipment lockers. They made a lot of their own equipment, and the industrial sewing machines were checked as well. Plenty of time for his thoughts to wander to Jacob, but he forced himself to focus on the task at hand—people’s lives depended on him doing a good job.
However, the effort required to do so had him crankier than usual. And fuck, when was the last time he’d been settled? Not even happy, just settled, not bristling around like a wounded bear. He missed that self, hated the thought that he might never get it back, at least not here, not now.
It didn’t escape his notice that Jacob made a beeline for the door as soon as they were dismissed for the day, undoubtedly looking to get away from Linc and the black mood he’d unleashed on him earlier. Maybe he needed a different tactic, something friendlier and gentle, not that he knew how to be those things around Jacob, not anymore. As he stalked after him, he tried to summon that energy, but one sight of Jacob by Wyatt’s old truck and all his resolutions to be more understanding fled. And it wasn’t just the truck, all the old memories of the hours spent working on it with Wyatt, but also the newer, fresher memories of Wyatt handing the keys over to Jacob a couple of years back, of the afternoon spent teaching him how to drive a stick.