Total pages in book: 100
Estimated words: 93096 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 465(@200wpm)___ 372(@250wpm)___ 310(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93096 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 465(@200wpm)___ 372(@250wpm)___ 310(@300wpm)
“He died the same year as my dad.” Honestly, it might have been easier if he’d used present tense for Mike, pretended to have something waiting back home, another layer of distance between them, but while he was many things, a liar wasn’t one them.
“Wow. That’s...something. Must have sucked.” Tucker’s eyes were on the road, but the sympathy was clear, both in his eyes and his voice. “You were together a long time?”
Luis had to swallow hard, both the unwanted empathy from Tucker and his own churning emotions making his throat tight. “Yeah. Almost six years. We were on the same crew. He died in the same fire where I injured my back. Shitty year doesn’t begin to cover it.”
“I’m sorry. That’s terrible.” There was something in Tucker’s tone, something personal and compassionate, and it wiggled under Luis’s skin, burrowing deep in ways he wasn’t prepared for.
“It’s okay.” It wasn’t, not really, not any of it, but accepting the sympathy, giving in to voicing more of his pain, that he couldn’t do.
“Still. I hope you had a good support system. I don’t like thinking of you—anyone really—going through that much alone.”
“I had people.” Luis focused on staring out the window at the narrow road and waves of trees broken up by a few signs of modern life. Usually he found a certain peace in vast spaces like this. He might enjoy urban amenities like live music and a wealth of dining options in his off time, but he also loved the outdoors, particularly the sorts of vistas many weren’t privileged to see. It opened up his chest, loosened his shoulders, made his worries small and insignificant, balancing him. But today, the gorgeous surroundings might as well have been rows of concrete pylons for all the effect they were having.
“Good.” Tucker’s nearness was a problem, as was his unexpected caring. The last thing he needed or wanted was Tucker having an opinion about what he’d done with the past twenty years. He didn’t need evidence that Tucker’s sensitive side had survived adulthood, that somewhere under those muscles and rugged features lived the sweet boy who had rescued kittens and stood up for his friends.
For his own self-protection as much any other reason, Luis let them drift off into silence as they passed into increasingly hilly terrain before Tucker came to a stop.
“This is the first stop. Edge of where we’ll be doing the controlled burn. Fred wants your perspective on the plans.”
“Hills always make it more challenging,” Luis said as they exited the truck, slipping back into work mode, a little less comfortably now. It was harder to stay distant when Tucker was being nice on top of being professional. Distance was in even shorter supply when his body responded to how good Tucker looked in the summer sunshine, light glinting off his short hair, sunglasses giving him a certain badass vibe, muscles flexing as they walked around. Fuck. It was one thing to appreciate Tucker’s manners and another altogether to go noticing him physically—that would only lead to more awkwardness.
You’re not sixteen, he reminded himself. He didn’t do crushes anymore, and it didn’t matter how good Tucker’s ass looked in those work pants, admiring it was only going to get him in trouble. No, it was better to take a cue from Tucker. Be polite. Nice. But absolutely, positively no infatuations.
* * *
Luis was good at his job. Like infuriatingly good, to the point Tucker had to appreciate his skills. The sun beat down on them, getting on to midday, making Tucker grateful for his hat and sunglasses as he kept up with Luis’s long, fluid strides. He needed to quit making assumptions about who Luis was as an adult. The kid who had staged paint wars backstage at play rehearsal and been more obsessed with pop lyrics than algebra had grown into a professional who knew his way around a burn zone. He walked the entire perimeter of the planned area, asking smart questions about the procedures in place as he examined everything from soil to wind.
Never once did the conversation stray back to the personal, but that didn’t mean his presence wasn’t unnerving. If anything, the focus on matters at hand allowed Tucker’s brain to wander back to what he’d learned earlier as they picked their way through the trees. Six years. Luis had been with someone that long. Another firefighter. He’d loved someone and lost them. It made Tucker’s jaw clench thinking about that kind of loss. And that sympathy was accompanied by something else, a weird twinge in his chest.
Couldn’t be jealousy. Not possible. He hadn’t really expected Luis to spend decades pining for a teen romance that had only a handful of kisses to its name. He should be happy that Luis had built a life for himself, one where he was loved, where he could freely share that love...