Chapter 49
CHAPTER FORTY-NINE
HAILEY
T he Hopper is empty for seven o’clock on a Friday night, but it’s perfect. It feels like we have the place all to ourselves.
“Now this is my kind of celebration of life,” Daniels says, back in his pair of overalls.
When the bartender slides a tray of tequila shots to the edge of the oak countertop, he picks the first one up, holding it high in the air.
“To White Horse.” He toasts over the end of a newscast report on the tavern’s TV updating the full containment of the fire.
Every member of the crew clinks their glass together before downing their drink.
“To Dean,” Jackson toasts next, and this time I step in.
“Greatest friend we’ve ever known,” I add.
“Cheers,” they all say as we tip the alcohol down our throats. It’s been a minute since I’ve shot straight tequila and I cough as it goes down.
“To Murphy,” my dad says next, and everyone flashes him a confused look .
Murphy’s burly beard drops in a larger-than-life smile.
He’s in on this . I don’t have the faintest idea what my dad’s going to say.
My dad catches my eye and shocks the room with, “Your new superintendent.”
Everyone but me peers in Murphy’s direction.
“Did you know about this?” I hear Ramirez ask Murphy as I silently question my dad: How long have you known about this?
“This old body needs to work eight to five, no weekends. I’m the new Forest Service Commander. Just got the job this morning. And I’m going to get to know my daughter.”
Keep it together, Hailey . I’ve cried enough today to fill an ocean. But this . This is what starting over looks like.
He grips both of my shoulders with his palms. “Hayes, I wasn’t around like I should have been. I’m hoping you meant it when you said I wasn’t too late.”
I wrap my arms around his middle, and the entire crew chants with boisterous applause. “Hart, Hart, Hart, Hart.”
“One more thing,” he whispers in my ear before he pulls back and reaches for another shot glass.
“To Morgan.”
Reed’s smile slips as he tries to read my dad’s face.
“I was right about you,” he says, stepping toward him. “Dean was too. You started as a rookie on this crew, but now”—he holds his hand out to shake Reed’s—“you’re the Alpha Squad Leader of Iron Summit.”
Reed stares at him with a dumbfounded look. I can tell he’s questioning if he heard him correctly.
“With all due respect, Supt, there are guys who’ve been on this crew?—”
He stops him with a hand to the chest.
“We took a vote, Reed. It was unanimous. ”
Murphy places a hand on Reed’s shoulder. “Congratulations, rookie. You graduated from kindergarten.”
There’s an old wooden jukebox in the corner of The Hopper. Ramirez has hand-selected “The Best” by Tina Turner to blast through the speakers. One by one, he pulls each member of the crew onto the dance floor.
“What do you say, Red. You want to dance with me?”
“I don’t know, does an alpha squad leader have two left feet?” I ask.
He scrunches up his nose, shaking his head. “I have two right ones.”
He yanks me by the arm beneath the dim lights and the room spins. I don’t know if it’s the circles he’s twirling me in that’s making me dizzy or just him. Being with him is a roller-coaster ride. You never get the chance to catch your breath.
“So, what now?” he asks, pressing his hips against mine and swaying in time with the music. “Do we start over too?”
I’d like to tell him to get me out of here and take me home. Instead, I shake my head and say, “No.” I don’t want to start over when our beginning has been my favorite part. “We pick up right where we left?—”
He dips me backward, cutting off my answer, and I squeal. When he rights me, his hand splays across my lower back, pressing me into his chest.
“Which was where, exactly?” he whispers against my lips.
“Which was right”—I lean in closer—“about”—graze our noses together—“here.”
When our lips finally touch, I don’t feel alone anymore.