Chapter 22 #2
“You know you don’t have to do this. You can come home.” Of course she sees right through me. But I can’t go home. I came here to do this thing, even if it’s hard.
In the background, Stella announces that dinner is ready. I don’t want to say goodbye, but I also know the longer Alice has me on the phone, the deeper she’s going to dig in, and I just can’t go there.
“Late dinner, huh?”
“Yeah, but I guess that’s my cue.” She sighs contently. “It was good to hear your voice.”
“Same.”
“You know, J. There’s nothing wrong with who you love either. So quit being an idiot and just call her,” she says softly before we ring off, sharing I love yous and making promises for when we will talk next.
My room falls silent again.
My soul feels a little lighter having the connection to back home, even if I’m not satisfied with the amount of intel I received.
I slump into the chair. It’ll be hours until Mouse gets back. I could study, but instead, I open my socials and begin stalking my old partners from JCFR.
I’ve been gone, and I’m out of the rhythm of automatically knowing which is our shift day. Their shift day.
Cal only has pictures of his niece Charlie.
Leo is a wash, as his page hasn’t been updated in years.
Kate is the social media queen, though, and her page is plastered with every slice of life imaginable.
The latest is a landscape view over a pretty little farm with the caption “Home Sweet Home.” Weird, I thought she lived in town, not on a farm.
But it’s her stories that give me the dopamine I’m looking for.
I click play, and familiar laughter rings through the speaker.
Cal is chasing Leo through the station, face covered in white, and Kate is cackling like a loon.
The old flour on plastic wrap prank. I chuckle, and it sounds foreign to my own ears.
My throat tightens. Hard to believe it’s been weeks since I’ve seen them. Just a few months ago, it was me and Cal against Kate and Leo in an ongoing prank war. Firefighters against medics.
Nostalgia is a bittersweet bitch, but I’m so lost in the memories of the fun times our crew had, I almost miss the familiar backpack that glides across the screen of Kate’s video.
The story skips to the next one, and it’s another landscape shot with the caption, “A long hike can cure a lot.” And when the next photo pops up, my heart twists in my chest. Kate is arm in arm, red-cheeked and smiling, with Maggie on top of a mountain somewhere.
Lurching from the couch, I ditch the phone and stalk to my closet for a clean shirt. Why the hell am I sitting alone in my room on a Saturday night, pining over the people and life I left behind? They are obviously moving on and living it up without me. Might as well do the same.
I grab an Uber to the local bar, and when I walk in, I’m greeted by Mouse yelling out my name.
I nod in his direction, where he and a couple other guys have dolled-up coeds sitting in their laps, but I head to the bar, ordering a beer as I grab a stool.
I came here to drink, not meet someone to take home.
There’s only one woman I want to be with, and she’s on the other side of the country.
Admitting it to myself doesn’t do anything to lessen the sting of seeing her happy in photos plastered all over social media.
“Didn’t expect to see you here tonight.”
Shit. Without realizing it, I’ve chosen a seat next to my least favorite instructor. Captain Hale is an old-school retired wildland firefighter. Even though he’s no longer working fires, he insists on sharing his knowledge through harassing cadets. Guy’s a dick on the best day.
I grunt a nonresponse, and fuck, but I sound like my former chief.
“Seems like you’re doing okay in class, but what I can’t figure out is why you’re here,” he continues.
It’s the most conversational I’ve ever heard him be.
Dude clearly doesn’t get the message that I’m not here for company.
I’m only trying to get out of this funk I’ve been in since the moment I crossed the Georgia state line.
“You came from the structure side. Why’d you want to move to forestry? ”
I had to—for T.J.
The answer comes instantly. Blaring so loud in my head that I wonder if I’ve said it out loud. Somehow, deep down, I don’t think it’s the right answer. “It’s just something I’ve always had a mind to try.”
He nods like he understands. But, fuck , how can he when I don’t even understand why I’m doing this? It was so crystal clear before. My goal has been to be a wildland firefighter since… forever. But now that I’m here, it’s not what I imagined it would be.
“Well, if at any point you aren’t a hundred percent with it, you’ll know it’s not for you.” The words are like a punch to the gut. “It’s life or death out there. Too fucking dangerous to do this job on a whim and not feel that crazy-ass calling.”
He finishes his beer and says good night, leaving me reeling. My whole purpose, my entire future, everything I’ve envisioned for myself, feels like it’s swirling into something I don’t recognize.
He pauses on his way out to remind the younger cadets that we have a physical training run first thing in the morning, and I lurch off my barstool, leaving my unfinished beer to follow him out.
“Sir,” I call as I burst into the cool fall night.
“Yes?”
I don’t even know what I want to ask, nor why I stopped him. Somehow, his words hit home, but he’s not who I want to talk to about this at all. “Nothing.”