I’ve got you, buddy.
Stay away from my little brother.
“Doesn’t matter. You’re barking up the wrong tree. I’m not letting you stay here.”
“Why? You think I’m on the rebound from Tyler? Or you think I’ll out you? Or...” His voice hardened and his hand tightened on Linc’s shoulder. “It’s Wyatt, isn’t it? Did he threaten you?”
“No.” This time the lie came easy, both because he had to and because he didn’t like Jacob’s tone, like he was ready to go to war with Wyatt on his behalf. That sort of concern, an almost protectiveness, made him shift against the plastic bucket. He didn’t need anyone playing champion for him.
Jacob’s grip softened, massaging Linc’s neck with a touch that had him stifling a groan. His hands were strong, calloused from hard work and years in the gym and felt better than a hot shower after a long day in the field.
“He wouldn’t have to know. It could be just an itch we scratch this one time.”
“Ha.” Oh, to be nineteen and so damn sure of himself. And that right there was the other reason why Linc had to turn him down. There wouldn’t be any one time only for him, not the way Jacob pulled him in even when he knew full well he had to resist. Jacob, who apparently saw what hundreds of guys he’d worked with hadn’t. Jacob, who made him laugh even while hauling mountains of moldy magazines, a feat not many could manage.
But Jacob had all but said it himself—he was nursing a broken heart from Tyler, and Linc had no desire to chance everything just to be the rebound fuck the kid forgot in a month.
“Not happening.”
“Not tonight, maybe, but—”
“Not now, not ever. There’s plenty of fish your own age to fry. Go find one.” He forced himself to pull away from that delicious torment, to stand up because his body was that damn weak that another few minutes and he’d be making all sorts of stupid choices. Better to be firm now.
“Your loss.” The hurt in Jacob’s voice as he scampered off the railing pierced Linc like a dart, a sharp, swift pain he’d do anything to take away. Anything, that was, except the one thing Jacob seemed to want.
“I’m sure it is.” He wasn’t trying to be flip. He absolutely was sincere—both sure that he’d regret turning him down and sure that he was doing the right thing. Jacob was simply a risk he wasn’t ever going to be able to afford.
Chapter Two
Present, April
The Painter’s Ridge Air Base parking lot was full, exactly how Jacob had expected it to be on this early morning. He’d anticipated the nervous flutters in his stomach as well, had skipped both coffee and cereal, too hyped to get here where all the smoke jumpers were reporting for orientation for the coming season. At least, it was easiest to tell himself it was hype, not try to name all the other things bumping around in his empty gut. And he’d also predicted the angry voice that greeted him moments after he entered the training facility.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” Linc looked like he’d spent the winter doing nothing except pumping iron, even more ripped and fierce looking than usual. And hot as fuck, because some things never changed. Short, dark buzz cut, similarly dark, trimmed facial scruff, forearm tats poking out of the rolled back sleeves of his flannel shirt. Menacing glare that would make weaker men than Jacob quake in their boots, but only earned a shrug from him.
“Reporting for training.” He’d spent weeks now playing this moment over in his head, rehearsing both how cool and calm he’d be and how pissed Linc would be. Stepping to the sidewall, he freed the entryway for others. Linc followed, glower still fully in place.
“The fuck you are.” If Linc was surprised, he had only himself to blame. He’d been scarce all damn winter, only surfacing in late January when May had Willow. The awkwardness at the hospital had hardly been the moment to tell him that he’d finally received the call to report to spring training here instead of with the hotshot hand crew he’d spent the past few seasons with, doing his time, waiting for this day. “When I saw your name on the roster this morning, I about choked on my coffee. And that was before the text from your mom.”
“Sounds like a problem.” Jacob continued to regard him coolly even as other people filtered in around them—fit men and women who would make up this season’s elite forest fire fighting team. He was damn proud to be among them, and Linc was not going to ruin this for him.
“It is. Listen, there’s a list of alternates a mile long.”
“I know. I’ve waited five damn years for my shot. You’re not talking me out of this.”
But Linc continued, thoroughly undaunted. “This early in the season, you drop out, it’s no big deal for them to bring in a replacement. Don’t do this to your mom, kid.”
“Not. A. Kid.”
“You are when you act like one. This isn’t a game or some extreme sport. You can get your adrenaline rush in other ways that won’t break your mom’s heart.”
“She’ll deal.” Jacob refused to soften his stance, even though he did hate how hard she was taking this. Not that he’d expected a parade, but not having a single person happy for him or even a little proud was damn depressing. “And this isn’t some lark. I’ve paid my dues, done my time with engine and hotshot crews, got my certifications, worked my way up, same as you and Wyatt did.”
“Wyatt would hate this.” Linc stared him down, eyes daring him to say different.
“Well, seeing as how he’s not here—”
“Can everyone find a seat? Go ahead and bring your coffee over, and we’re going to get started.” A grizzled older gentleman spoke over the din of the room. Witherspoon Alder, the base manager, was someone Jacob recognized both from the funeral and from his panel interview.
“We’re not done.” Giving him an ominous look, Linc stalked away, claiming one of the folding chairs in the back of the room.
Even without the warning, Jacob didn’t doubt for a second that Linc had more to say. And maybe if he wasn’t always such a hard-ass about it, Jacob might actually listen. But, no, Linc had always, always taken his marching orders from Wyatt. It was almost nine months since the fire that had claimed Wyatt’s life, and Linc was still fighting Wyatt’s battles for him.
“The next five weeks won’t be the most arduous of your life. That’s coming later this summer, the real deal.” Alder addressed the room as Jacob took an empty chair on the opposite side of the room from Linc. “This is life-and-death serious business, and we lost three of our best last year. Make no mistake in what you’ve signed up for—we take pride in what we do, but we never lose sight of the dangers either. Look around you. These are the teammates who will keep you safe, and trusting them is as big a part of our training as anything else.”