“Sounds like a serious guy.” Shane could relate to that sort of focus. Maybe not on academics, but on his music, especially early on, that drive to be better than simply good.
“He was. But funny thing, so was I back then.” Brandt’s voice took on a far-off quality as he patted Jewel, still rocking. “Everyone else would go out, but we’d be there reviewing procedure manuals. Early morning run? We were first ones in line. Late night equipment inventory? Both our hands were in the air.”
Shane had to shake his head. There was no question that Brandt was a hard worker, but seeing him as an eager beaver young person took a little more imagination. “Wow. I’ve got a hard time picturing you as that much of a go-getter.”
“Yeah, well, I was. And somewhere along the way he became the best friend I ever had. Saved my neck more than once, but I did the same. All season long.”
“Glad you had him.” Was it possible to be jealous of someone he’d never meet? Brandt’s use of the past tense was a major clue that this Roger was no longer around, but still Shane’s jaw tightened.
“Me too. Looking back now, maybe I took him for granted. Never once told him...” Brandt trailed off as the baby squeaked.
“I bet he knew.” Shane held back a yawn. This story was too fascinating to miss even if his eyes were still growing heavy.
“Maybe. He was the guy I most wanted to be.” Brandt adjusted his hold on Jewel, who was almost but not quite asleep. “Even visited him out in Colorado that winter, where he was from. Met his mama and the girl he wanted to marry. I wanted his family, that was for sure.”
“Yeah.” Lord, how Shane knew that mood. Wanting a family that stayed put in one place, owned a home, didn’t leave on a whim, parents who didn’t fight, siblings who stayed out of trouble. “Been there.”
“Anyway, when you write that song about him, you say how fearless he was. Never met a tree he wouldn’t climb or weather he wouldn’t jump in. Worked hard. Loved his family and his girl hard. Solid guy. You remind me of him, a little.”
“Thanks.” He didn’t quite know what to make of that. This story was sad and tender, a tribute of sorts, and he was already holding his breath for the inevitable ending, even before Brandt looked down at the hardwood floor.
“We lost him that next August. Him and a few other good ones.”
“What happened?” He didn’t like making Brandt relive a painful memory, but the songwriter in him needed to know, to understand, to be able to make sense of this pain.
“He and his crew were behind a fireline, doing their damnedest to slow the spread before the winds worsened. He was hell with a chainsaw, man. You should have seen him...” Brandt exhaled, long and heavy. “Anyway, winds shifted quicker than anyone was prepared for. They did their damnedest to outrun it, him leading the way, but then they had no choice but to deploy their fire shelters. Wasn’t enough.”
“I’m sorry.” The words were inadequate to the ache in his chest, the way his hands opened, wishing Brandt were close enough to touch. He knew loss, but not like that, not bone deep, the sort a person never came all the way back from.
Shrugging, Brandt stood with the baby. “Part of the job. Part of life. Maybe I wasn’t quite grown until that day. But that was also the moment when I realized life was too short to not live it. Go out there. Have fun. Don’t forget to play and enjoy it because the end might come before you know it. Don’t put it off.”
Brant punctuated his mantra by gently laying Jewel in her crib. She didn’t cry, but Shane was perilously close to losing it himself. Tired. Emotional. This gut-wrenching story. A glimpse into Brandt he wasn’t sure he wanted because now he had to see him as so much more than a partying sky cowboy good time guy. He wanted to ask about the emotions underscoring the story, if it had all been friendship and brotherhood or if there was something more there, at least on Brandt’s side.
“Brandt...” He started to find his way to the questions he wanted to ask, pausing to yawn as Brandt came and crouched next to him, setting a blunt finger against Shane’s mouth.
“Shush. Enough story time. You’re already mostly asleep. You rest now. Diva’s gonna wake up, and I’ll probably be gone. Early start for my crew.”
Stretching, Brandt pulled a cover from the end up the bed up and over Shane. Damn. The guy was going to get an hour or two of sleep at best, and here he was, taking care of the baby. And Shane.
“Sorry—”
“Don’t be.”
But Shane was. Sorry for Brandt, for his younger self, for the losses he’d had to endure. Sorry he’d never meet that Roger or the kid Brandt had been. His eyes fluttered shut as he tried again to hold emotion in.
And he had to be sleeping already because he could have sworn those were Brandt’s lips ghosting over his temple. It was a sweet dream, thinking Brandt might care like that, thinking there could be something here. And he knew it had to stay a dream, couldn’t be real for a whole host of reasons, but right then, he was going to snuggle into the pillow and pretend for a moment that he lived in a world where Brandt Wilder had just tucked him in.
Chapter Seven
“So how was your weekend?” Hartman, the jumper-in-charge on Brandt’s crew, was all conversational as they walked toward the hangar after finishing the morning briefing. Poor guy had no idea exactly what a weekend Brandt had had.
“Uh...” He did a fast calculation, trying to decide what to reveal. He hadn’t really thought through telling people, but he also wasn’t one to lie. And Hartman was a good guy, younger but not brash, the sort who honestly did want to know as opposed the type of leader who only made small talk to fill silence. Might as well get it out there. “Apparently I have a kid now.”
“No shit?” Hartman’s head swiveled like one of those dashboard dolls. “Like one just turned up on your doorstep?”
“More or less.” Brandt stretched, letting the crisp morning mountain air fill his lungs. Gorgeous clear blue skies, totally at odds with his jumbled thoughts. In the distance, the mountains loomed large, white tips and craggy silhouettes, unchanging, unlike Brandt’s life.
“Damn. How old are you anyway if you’ve got a kid searching you out?” Hartman’s words were light, the sort of ribbing all the guys gave each other. Nonetheless, they stung. Never had he felt every one of his thirty years more than sitting there in the lawyer’s office trying to make a plan for the baby.
“Screw you. I’m not that old,” he shot back, giving as good as he got before he softened his voice. “It’s a baby. With an AWOL mom. Long story. But I’m gonna need to sort out insurance paperwork at some point I guess, if the paternity test results prove the kid’s mine. Rich’s wife is helping me with the legal stuff.”