Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 73794 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 369(@200wpm)___ 295(@250wpm)___ 246(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73794 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 369(@200wpm)___ 295(@250wpm)___ 246(@300wpm)
“It’s hard when he’s so annoyingly perfect.” Scotty glanced skyward like God might be on his side with this one, then exhaled loudly. “But I get what you’re saying. Caleb does a lot for me.”
“He does. And he put in a lot of effort to make you a home.” My voice wavered because Scotty wasn’t the only one who’d taken Caleb for granted. And in all my deliberating over what might be best for me and, by extension, us, I hadn’t thought enough about Caleb and what he deserved.
“I better get going before Caleb sends out a search party.” Scotty’s tone was fonder now.
“Think about talking to him. About everything. Give him a chance,” I urged while hoping Caleb could do the same for me. I needed a chance to make things right. I’d spent days wondering how to save things with Caleb, but it turned out I’d possibly been asking the wrong questions all along.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Caleb
“You with us, Caleb?” Sean asked jokingly as we loaded up for a call about a fire at a cherry farm outside of town.
“Yeah, man, your head has been in the clouds all week,” Suzy added as I slid in beside her on the rig. I was the last one ready, and I couldn’t even blame Tony for my distraction because he had the day off.
“Sorry,” I mumbled as I grabbed my ear defenders, for once welcoming the inability to talk over the sirens.
I missed Tony even when we were on the same shift or saw each other when I picked up Scotty from practice. It had only been a few days, but the gaping hole in my chest from being at odds with him made it feel like decades. Worse, we hadn’t broken up, hadn’t said things we couldn’t take back, hadn’t really fought. Consequently, I didn’t have anger to fall back on. We’d mutually agreed on wishing we could have a future, yet the path forward seemed rocky and unchartered at best. Rather than being mad, I was sad and frustrated, and as a result, every damn thing seemed harder.
Tasks I’d usually roar through, like gear prep, took twice as long. My concentration was also shot, but I needed to get myself together and fast because the farm fire turned out to be a multiple-structure blaze. Two barns and several adjacent outbuildings were smoking upon our arrival, with visible flames in several places.
The grass on either side of the gravel road into the farm was brown and crispy, a summer’s worth of dry heat and little rain, rendering all but the most hardy of plants as potential tinder for the fire. The forest fire potential added urgency to our work. Saving the farm buildings and the orchard would take all of us, and I forcibly pushed thoughts of Tony from my brain.
Accordingly, working with my crew to fight the blaze became my sole focus. Sean gave an order. I followed it. Simple as that. I saw a job. I did it. I was on autopilot to the extent I could audition as a prototype for a robotic firefighter, doing everything by the book.
Except fires didn’t often go by the book. And this one was a doozy that didn’t respond to our efforts in a predictable fashion. We’d get one part of the fire out only for it to spring up worse somewhere else and double back to the previous area. Sean ordered us inside the larger of the two barns. It was used for packing fruit and storing equipment rather than livestock. I followed the orders to work on containment, with no stray thoughts and no focus other than on the task at hand.
And then disaster came out of seemingly nowhere. We’d been fighting the wind the whole call, and the fire shifted, consuming the area where I was working in a matter of seconds. Walls, ceilings, the entire structure went up in a wall of flames. Debris fell like raindrops. I dodged one chunk of wall only to turn into another. Brushing myself off, I heard a terrible creak.
One of the support beams strained and wobbled.
“Fall back,” Sean barked in my ear over the headset. If the beam went, we’d be trapped or worse.
Creak.
I followed the others as we threaded our way out, moving as fast as we dared.
The energy around us seemed to shift, time slowing down even as we needed to hurry the fuck up, every moment seeming more urgent than the last.
Creak.
More debris rained. My neck prickled under all my gear, some inner sense making me turn right as a giant piece of roof came at me. I rolled, reflexes honed from years of training, no trace of my trademark clumsiness. I straightened only to dodge a flaming board.
I crawled forward, staying low, vision locked on Suzy ahead of me. It wasn’t even mid-afternoon, yet there were no signs of daylight. Smoke everywhere. I resisted the urge to check my air supply, an old panic starting to gather. The failure of any of my gear would be catastrophic, but the second I gave into fear, I might be dead anyway. No time to lose, only to—