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.
“You don’t have to sit all the way over there.” Somehow Jacob had found the station with a Springsteen fetish, and the music wore Linc down, almost as much as Jacob’s relentless flirting.
“Eyes on the road. Careful not to stall out on that hill up ahead.”
“Fine.” Jacob took the hill a little faster than Linc would, especially for having been driving a stick less than an hour. “And you owe me a beer.”
“I owe you a what now?” Linc had been distracted, both by the driving and by the cloudless blue sky, exact color of Jacob’s eyes when they were happy, like now.
“A beer. I’m twenty-one now. You promised. I know a place in Bend. Wyatt won’t have to know and none of his crowd ever goes there.”
“We’re not going out drinking.”
“So we’re staying in, then? Your place?”
“More like staying in trouble. You’re something else.”
Fuck. The sticky thicket of emotions conjured up by the old, battered red truck was enough to have Linc growling.
“Didn’t I say we need to talk?” He kept his voice low, in deference to the other people getting in their vehicles around them. Luckily, Jacob had parked toward the back of the lot, but he still didn’t want a public argument any more than Jacob did.
“Did I miss the part where you’re in charge of me?” Jacob met him harsh whisper for harsh whisper.
“Not in charge, no, but I’m entitled to an opinion. I care—”
“Do you?” Jacob raised an eyebrow. Darker than his blondish hair, his expressive eyebrows always gave him a roguish appearance. “You care? Since when?”
Since always. Since the sun had caught Jacob’s hair six years ago and... But he couldn’t afford such fanciful thoughts, and sure as hell wasn’t sharing them. “You’re like family to me. All of you.”
“Really? Family? Because if I recall there was nothing familial about what happened after the funeral. There hasn’t been anything family about you and me for years now, and you know it.”
“We’re not talking about that.” He was impressed at how firm his voice came out, given the way his insides were quaking.
“Yeah, God forbid we talk about that. Stop pretending—”
“Stop dodging the real issue. Unless...” His facial muscles tensed as he considered another possibility for Jacob’s determination. “Is that what this is about? You trying to stick it to me? A giant F-U? Some sort of payback?”
“No.” The fire in Jacob’s eyes flared brighter, more dangerous. “And fuck you for thinking that. I’ve worked damn hard for this moment. Don’t flatter yourself that I’d break my back to get you to finally stop polishing your halo and notice me.”
I notice you. Every damn day. Of course, he couldn’t say that, could only stay silent in the face of Jacob’s fury. Jacob made an exasperated noise. Most of the rest of the crowd had cleared out, leaving only a few vehicles in the parking lot.
“I get it, okay? I get that everyone’s still missing Wyatt. I miss him too. And now Mom’s scared I’m going to go the same way. I didn’t expect anyone to be happy for me, not now. But not a single person at least a little proud, that stings. Everyone assuming I’m some selfish brat of a kid and not giving me an ounce of credit for knowing my own mind, that fucking sucks.”
The pain in his voice squeezed Linc like a vise. “Jacob—”
“Save it.” With that, Jacob swung up into the cab of the truck. “Just save it, Linc. You said your piece. I’m still doing this.”
But Linc hadn’t said everything, not by a long shot, and as Jacob drove away, in a cloud of gravel and dust, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he hadn’t said a damn thing at all.
Chapter Three
“What were you thinking, contacting Linc?” Jacob’s words were tempered by a sleeping Willow on his shoulder, a warm, sweet-smelling baby weight that made it hard to be mad at his mother. Not that he was that furious to begin with—his boots over by the door and fast reply to her summons for dinner bore witness that some of his earlier rage had settled.
“I was thinking that I couldn’t sleep last night, thinking of you out there. I was thinking that I’m not ready to lose anything—anyone—else.” The haunted look in her eyes as she turned away from the stew she was stirring stole his appetite and made him swallow hard. He hated knowing he’d cost her sleep, added to her burdens. May too. Usually friendly, she’d barely spoken to him when he’d arrived, disappearing to check on Junior and leaving him with the baby and his mother’s disappointment.
“It doesn’t help a little if I remind you that I’ve been training for this for years? If I promise to keep myself safe, not take any stupid risks?”
“You can be safe all you want, but all it takes is once...” Her voice cracked.
He squished his eyes shut, clamping down on the emotion that surged through him. She wasn’t wrong. “I know. But you can say the same thing about lots of other stuff. Driving even. Life’s full of risks and uncertainties.”
“Maybe so, but I don’t have to like it.” Her chin took on a stubborn tilt that he recognized from the reflection he saw in the mirror every morning. “And I’m not going to apologize for texting Linc.”
“Fair enough.” He hadn’t really expected her to, just as he hadn’t expected a congratulations for getting the call up to the smoke jumper team. But she was his mom, and she loved him, and she was dishing him up a huge portion of her famous stew, and right then it was enough. It had to be.
“You can set her in the playpen, you know.” May came into the dining area that adjoined the open kitchen where his mother was working, trailed by Junior, who had his ever-present bear in one hand. “I didn’t mean you had to hold her. You’re spoiling her.”