Chapter Six
Time slipped by, speeding up as the sky shifted from dark indigo to smoky purple, and then to a soft, hazy pink. The morning sun made its entrance, half-hidden behind thick plumes of smoke swirling above.
Sloane felt both exhausted and exhilarated.
It was the familiar combination that always hit her in the middle of shooting a documentary, when the purpose of what she was trying to achieve finally made sense.
That focus, that intensity; it was all there, pushing her forward.
She could even feel it in her bones, that electric charge that told her she was onto something real.
Sure, her arms ached from holding the camera, and her eyes burned from hours of squinting through smoke, but it was all worth it.
Kendall yawned loudly and slumped down onto a rock, curling her arms around her bent knees. “Are we heading back soon?” A streak of soot was smudged across her forehead. “I really need the bathroom. I should’ve gone before we left… but you know, you were rushing me.”
“Just a minute,” Sloane snapped, her tone clipped and impatient. Despite her newfound peace, she was still stewing over the reckless stunt Kendall had pulled hours ago, even if it had resulted in far better shots and more impactful footage that could really tell their story.
But that didn’t mean she was ready to forgive and forget.
The memory of Kendall darting toward the flames like an adrenaline junkie still made her heart race.
What if the winds had changed direction?
What if Kendall had been swallowed whole by the flames?
What if Sloane had to go back to Los Angeles and explain to Lisa that she got Evans Wilde’s precious daughter killed because she couldn’t rein her in?
What if?
Two monumental words that plagued Sloane like a perpetual stone in her shoe.
What if she had been a better girlfriend to Louise? What if she had given her more attention, more love, more gifts, more sex.
“Excuse me,” came a voice that snapped Sloane out of her thoughts. A firefighter walked toward them with her helmet tucked under her arm and her round face streaked with ash. “You’re the two filming the documentary about the wildfires in California, right? Focusing on the women on the front lines?”
News traveled fast.
“We are,” Sloane nodded. “Can we interview you?”
“You have a name yet?” the woman asked, her accent not quite local. Maybe it had a hint of something Southern. “For the documentary?” She brushed blonde hair out of her face.
Under all the grime, Sloane estimated her to be no older than twenty-two. Still a kid with an adult job.
“Not yet,” Kendall replied, sidling up beside Sloane. Their shoulders brushed, and Sloane stepped sideways to give some space. “We’re open to suggestions, if you have any. What’s your name?”
“Amber.”
“Well, Amber,” Sloane interjected before Kendall could take over the interview. “I know you’ve got your hands full out there, but do you mind if I ask you a few questions?”
“Sure,” Amber said, switching the helmet to the other arm. “Ask away.”
Sloane got the camera ready as she raced through all the angles she could take. She wasn’t after stats or fire details. She wanted the grit, the emotion, the real impact on the wildlife and the community affected by the flames.
“Can you tell me a little bit about what you’ve seen lately, especially with the fires in this area during this season?”
Amber nodded, wiping sweat from her brow.
“Honestly, it’s been brutal. It feels like the fires are getting worse every year, and more unpredictable.
We’ve had two major wildfires in the region, and that’s just in the last three months.
This one’s the worst yet. The heat, the wind, the dry conditions—”
“It’s the perfect storm.” Sloane finished. “How’s the wildlife in the area doing?”
“Not well. Deer, coyotes, mountain lions; they’re pretty fast and can sometimes outrun the flames.
But the smaller animals, like the squirrels, rabbits, raccoons…
they don’t stand a chance. I’ve seen entire habitats wiped out in hours.
It’s heartbreaking. You can even hear them sometimes, trying to escape, but there’s nowhere for them to go. ” Her expression tightened.
“That must be hard to see.”
Amber nodded. “It’s not just the animals, either. Families around here are losing everything. Their homes, their memories. We try to stop it; we do our best. We give everything we’ve got, but the fire doesn’t care.”
“How do you handle that? Knowing sometimes, no matter how hard you fight, the fire still wins?”
“You don’t handle it. Not really. You just keep going. You do your job the best you can, and you hope it’s enough. When it’s all over… well, you never forget the lives, the animals, the places that were burned to nothing. You carry it with you.”
“Does it ever get easier for you?” Kendall piped in. She stepped forward, completely taking Sloane by surprise.
Sloane had expected the woman to have more sense than to chime in like that. Too many voices on camera during an interview could complicate things.
“No,” Amber sighed. “But you get stronger.”
“Thank you,” Sloane quickly interjected before Kendall could say anything else, steering the conversation in another direction. Sloane had all she needed.
When Amber walked off, shoulders slumped, clearly exhausted, Sloane turned to Kendall and shot her a cold look.
“You can’t just interrupt the interview.
It throws everything off balance.” Sloane paused, irritation simmering violently beneath her skin.
“Now, let’s head back to the station. We can grab a few more interviews there. ”
~~
By the time they got back to the inn, Sloane was running on fumes. The sun was just beginning its descent. The fire had finally calmed down and lost its bite, and Chief Daily had said it would probably run its course by midnight.
Sloane was pleased with the amount of footage they’d captured today. As she trudged off to her room, leaving Kendall behind, the first thing she did was fall onto her bed. She still hadn’t completely forgiven Kendall’s antics from earlier.
Funnily enough, though, she was smiling.
Work had its days where everything just clicked into place, where the chaos and exhaustion were worth it because the story practically told itself.
Today was one of those days. It was the kind of day that made her forget about the pressures at work, of Lisa’s constant pouting whenever she brought up a new, eccentric idea for a documentary: something that wasn’t award-winning material, but still close to her heart, something wild, crazy, and unsettling like tracking the Mongolian Eagle Huntresses.
Sloane hadn’t even thought about that morning two weeks ago when she’d clicked the elevator button for the doors to magically swing open instantly, only to see Louise wrapped around that blonde.
Their mouths were crushed into each other.
And then there was the constant thought about when the hell Robbie was going to get out of her house.
Forty-five was too old for roommates. Sloane had even forgotten all about that blind date for a moment…
that was until later, at the fire station, after another interview, when Sloane had glanced around to see Kendall watching her like she was some rare, majestic bird that only ever hatched once yearly.
There was a sudden knock on the door. Faint. Hesitant. Then Kendall’s voice found its way into the room. “Are you awake, Sloane? It’s okay if you’re napping. I can always come back again later.”
Sloane groaned loudly, tossing her arms in the air before she clawed at her cheeks like she wanted to rip off her flesh. “What do you want, Kendall?” she called. She was too tired to even care that she sounded rude, bordering even on obnoxious. The woman deserved it… or maybe she didn’t.
Either way, she wasn’t about to start feeling bad for just wanting to be left alone.
“Marty’s cooking beef stew for dinner—”
“Who the hell is Marty?” Sloane interrupted, still splayed out on the bed. She wasn’t moving until it was absolutely necessary.
“The innkeeper,” Kendall replied. “She said food will be ready in fifteen minutes and we can take our plates outside. Apparently, there’s a deck overlooking the forest. Worth a visit. What do you say?”
It was at that moment that Sloane’s stomach rumbled, and not softly.
It was possibly even loud enough for Kendall to hear it from the hallway.
A hearty beef stew was exactly what she needed after she’d been surviving off candy bars all day.
Her blood sugar was all over the place and she needed some good protein and vegetables to stabilize.
“Sloane,” Kendall called when Sloane hadn’t replied. She’d accidentally lost herself in that stew, imagining herself eating it, savoring every bite.
“I’ll meet you down there in ten,” she called back, rolling herself off the bed and into the shower.
She smelled like smoke and could even taste ash on her tongue.
There were stains on her shirt and when she stuck her nose in her armpit…
yup, she needed a good long shower to rid the grime of the day.
By the time Sloane wandered into the dining room, gathered a bowl of steaming hot beef stew and a glass of red wine, she made her way out onto the deck. It was already twenty minutes after Kendall had halted her nap.
The firefighter-turned-co-director was looking fresh in clean clothes and her hair was washed.
She was holding an empty bowl of stew as she sat comfortably on an Adirondack chair.
Kendall glanced up at her and smiled. Although, her smile lacked a certain joie de vivre, as if she’d painted it on with a brush of forced cheerfulness.
Sloane very nearly asked her what was wrong, but instead, she settled silently in the chair beside Kendall and gazed out at the forest. The sun was dipping below the trees. Behind them, on the wall above the door, a spotlight brightened up the deck.
“It’s delicious,” Kendall said, tipping her chin toward the bowl in Sloane’s hands. “I’m even thinking of going back for seconds.”
Sloane gave a silent nod and brought a heaping forkful to her mouth. She blew on it, wispy strands of steam dancing away, and then barely chewed before she swallowed. It was scrumptious. Flavors exploded on her tongue, and she had to catch herself from moaning.
“I’m sorry by the way,” Kendall said so softly Sloane nearly thought she imagined it. Only when she glanced out of the corner of her eye and noticed Kendall sitting sideways, staring at Sloane with those amber eyes, did she realize the woman had, in fact, spoken.
“For what?” Sloane asked, already tallying up two incidents today that required apologies. One for endangering her own life and the other for butting in during the interview. They were two serious offenses that needed two serious apologies. She wouldn’t settle for anything less.
“I guess, for everything. You were supposed to be on a lovely vacation, not forced into this documentary, and then there’s me running off toward the fire when you told me to stay close. And then the interrupting thing. I never should’ve done that,” Kendall shrugged.
“It’s fine,” Sloane declared, surprised at herself for not wanting to rip into Kendall like she had assumed she would. But that could be the beef stew’s fault. All she really wanted was to eat her food and be left alone. In peace. “Don’t worry about it.”
“Really?” Kendall exclaimed, leaning forward over the armrest. She looked like she wanted to reach across the gap and Sloane suddenly felt her heart beating a fraction faster as she wondered what she would do if, in fact, Kendall grabbed her arm and squeezed it tight.
“You really mean that? Or are you just saying it’s fine because—”
“I really mean it,” Sloane interrupted her. “And if you want to be in the interview, just tell me in advance. We can feature you in the documentary.”
“No!” Kendall spluttered. “I mean, no, thank you. That’s actually not a good idea at all.” She shook her head so vigorously from side to side it was at risk of toppling off. “I’m terrible in front of a camera. Always have been. It’s one of my massive flaws.”
Sloane remembered that photo she’d seen of Kendall—the one in that skimpy red bikini posing with a sledgehammer. If she remembered correctly, Kendall had posed in the center of the calendar.
“Really?” She raised a single teasing eyebrow. “Because Miss July looked very comfortable in front of the camera.”
Wait…Was she flirting with Kendall? Whatever it was, Sloane promised herself never to do it again. Clearly, she was losing her mind. But her own self-loathing was overshadowed by the sight of Kendall’s cheeks, which were glowing bright red. Literally.
Despite her tan, Kendall looked like a ripe beetroot. The shock of it, because how could Sloane have ever expected a reaction like that, caught in her throat. She couldn’t even laugh. She only stared, wondering if it was real, if it was even possible to turn that red without somehow… combusting.
“Please tell me you didn’t see that photo online?” Kendall pleaded, her fingers gripping the armrest so hard they turned white. Red cheeks. White hands. Sloane could practically see the mortification rolling off her.
“I did,” Sloane replied, chewing at her lip, forcing herself not to laugh out loud. It would be rude to laugh at the woman’s clear embarrassment.
Kendall plunged her head in her hands. “You know,” she mumbled through her fingers.
“I was so nervous about the shoot that I actually ended up dropping the sledgehammer right after that photo was taken. Cracked the tiles. The photographer was German. She started spitting out, ‘verfickte scheiBe!’. I knew she was furious because a German woman I knew had once told me all the naughtiest German curse words.”
The laugh couldn’t be stifled. Sloane threw her head back and embraced the chuckle flowing out of her throat.
It was hilarious. Embarrassing for Kendall, but still hilarious.
When she finally managed to get control—Kendall was still hunched over, head buried in her hands—she said, “You looked nice, by the way. In the photo. I never would’ve known you were that nervous. ”
There was silence, briefly, before Kendall shifted back in the chair and stretched out her legs. The color in her cheeks had faded. “So, what do we do now? Everything seems under control here and we’ve got plenty of footage.”
Sloane watched as a Blue Jay swooped through the trees, landing on the deck railing. She knew little about birds, but the way its blue feathers shimmered in the twilight made her feel almost hopeful for the rest of the documentary. “We find the next fire.”