41. Tanner
Chapter Forty-One
Tanner
You can’t go back
“How are you doing over there?” Hudson asked.
I glanced his way and shrugged my uninjured shoulder. “I’m fine. It’s nothing dramatic.”
That was mostly true. I’d managed to gash my shoulder and forearm and painfully jam the same shoulder in the process.
It was already loosening up, though. Such was life as a hotshot firefighter.
In the nearly decade I’d been doing this, I’d only had two injuries that required stitches and not a single broken bone.
A few tiny burns from spark scatter and plenty of bruises.
All in all, I was one of the lucky ones.
Hudson flashed a grin. “Scars are sexy. Or at least that’s what Stella tells me.”
I snorted. “Does she now?”
“She does. I don’t even have that many.”
“Are you motivated to get more?” I asked dryly.
Hudson rolled his eyes. “No. I get impatient with injuries.”
“Same.” I lifted my forearm and examined the butterfly bandages Graham had expertly applied. “This one’s going to get me dragged to the walk-in clinic when we get back to Willow Brook.”
Hudson chuckled. “Protocol.”
I was already impatient for the helicopter to arrive and impatient to get home. The sole reason for my impatience: Ava.
“Won’t be long,” Parker called from across the clearing where we waited for pickup. “We’ll get home. And you can see your girl.” Parker waggled his brows.
Leo chuckled, while Kincaid grinned. “You’re all impatient to get home,” I muttered.
“It’s new for you to miss someone,” Griffin said mildly.
I rolled my eyes, but heat crept up the back of my neck.
“See?” Leo added. “He doesn’t even want to talk about it. That tells us everything.”
Sighing, I shook my head, grateful when Graham called for help organizing the gear. Later, once we were airborne, the rhythmic whir of the helicopter blades drowned out any effort at conversation. The noise gave me space to think, maybe too much space.
On the one hand, I missed Ava so much that my heart ached. On the other, I kept replaying the conversation with Laney at the pizza place. I had zero doubts about Laney. There was nothing there anymore, no zing of attraction, longing, or even curiosity. Whatever had once existed had burned out.
You can’t go back. I knew that had been said many a time, but I remembered my mom mentioning it about an old friend and how you couldn’t recreate the time and place and dynamics later on.
Laney wasn’t looking for a second chance.
She was looking to rewind, to land somewhere safe after her life hadn’t worked out the way she’d planned.
I understood that wasn’t love, but I knew she’d have to figure that out herself.
Still, her presence in town had kicked up old doubts. Doubts I thought I’d buried.
That I was boring, beige, and too steady. For years, my solution to handling those doubts had been simple. No commitment meant no risk of being told I wasn’t enough. Situationships were light and temporary.
But now I wanted something real. With Ava.
She was nothing like Laney. She was a bright spark in a dark night.
She was sass and sarcasm, but tender underneath all of it.
Knowing what she’d gone through, I knew she was healing in her own way.
I wanted her to take that job in Willow Brook and stay. With me.
But I didn’t want her to do it for me, and that frightened me. What if Alaska stopped feeling like magic for Ava once it wasn’t a vacation? What if Willow Brook felt small and confining to her? What if she looked at me one day and saw beige?
“Yo, Tanner.” I blinked and looked over at Kincaid. “Cell reception,” he said simply.
We were all reaching for our phones like we hadn’t seen civilization in months. Which, okay, fair, it had been two weeks.
This was the first time I checked my phone, hoping for something more than a logistics text when I was coming back from a fire. I powered it on, and my lips curved when I saw Ava’s name flash on the screen.
Ava: Rumor has it you’re returning. Welcome home, Tanner.
My chest tightened in the best way. I typed back as soon as we landed.
Me: I have to stop by the walk-in care. Tell me when I can come by.
Her reply came almost instantly.
Ava: Walk-in care???!!!
Me: I’m fine. Minor injury, I promise. Graham’s making me because it’s protocol.
Ava: Oh. Okay.
Even through a screen, I could feel her worry. And, God help me, I liked that she cared. I stared at my phone screen for a few beats. My thumbs hovered.
Me: When can I see you?
Ava: I’m actually in Seattle getting my stuff.
Oh. I’d imagined driving straight from the walk-in to her place. Greeting her with a kiss with Growly purring in the background. Instead, she was thousands of miles away, boxing up her life.
Me: When are you coming back?
Ava: Soon.
That was it. No date, no smiley face, and no teasing.
I lowered my phone slowly, wrestling with the uncertainty twisting in my gut. I hadn’t realized how much I’d been counting on seeing her tonight until the possibility went up in smoke. Two weeks away had felt long. I’d been ready to close that distance.
My phone vibrated in my hand.
Ava: By the way, Laney tells me you’re reconsidering now that she’s moving back.
For a second, I couldn’t process the words. When I did, anger flashed high inside. “What the actual fuck,” I muttered under my breath.
The helicopter blades were spun along as we approached Willow Brook, the roar loud enough to swallow my voice. Probably for the best because I almost shouted my frustration. Reconsidering what?
I replayed the conversation I’d had with Laney at the pizza place. Her reaching for my hand and me pulling away. I’d been crystal clear we weren’t getting back together. There had been nothing ambiguous about it, nothing vaguely hopeful for Laney to latch onto.
Yet she’d turned around and told Ava I was reconsidering. Anger burned hotter. Because now Ava was out of town, packing up her life, and instead of feeling steady about us, she was questioning it. I typed before I could overthink it.
Me: That’s not true. I told her no. Flat out. I am not reconsidering anything.
I hesitated before adding another text.
Me: I’m not interested in Laney. At all.
When Ava didn’t reply swiftly, my gut churned with dread. The helicopter touched down, and the jolt rattled through me. My phone buzzed again.
Ava: She said you were thinking about it.
My jaw tightened. I climbed out once we were cleared, my boots landing on the tarmac with the air smelling like fuel. I barely registered the noise around me as I typed back.
Me: She’s wrong. There is nothing to reconsider.
I stared at the screen, then added another text.
Me: I want you, Ava. Not her.
There. That was simple, direct, and undeniably true.
I slid my phone into my pocket, my heart pounding harder than it had when we’d been out facing down a wildfire. I’d run toward walls of flame without blinking. But the idea of Ava doubting me because of someone else’s lie rattled me in a way the fire never had.