Feel the Fire (Hotshots)

by Annabeth Albert

  “Very.” Trying to draw from Wade’s enthusiasm, Tucker figured he could at least do the phone call if it meant that much to his son.

  “You’re going to hate Kansas,” Walker scoffed around a bite of pancake.

  That earned a wild gesture with the spatula from Wade. “F—”

  “Language.” Tucker plucked the spatula from his grip and set it back in the spoon rest before he could bop his brother like they were toddlers again.

  “I am not going to hate it.” Wade stared Walker down, eyes daring either of them to object. “I looked at the pictures. There’s frats and brick buildings and a big quad where they play Frisbee when the weather is good. You’re just bitter because you’re stuck staying here.”

  He was so animated that in that moment, Tucker could see it, leaves changing colors, kids scurrying from building to building, rush week for the Greek system, Wade out there catching Frisbees. He was as good as gone. If not this school, then some other one. Utterly fearless, exactly how he’d been since his first steps. He had a goal now, and the same kid who had managed to scale every obstacle in pursuit of extra cookies or some forbidden item was going to crush it. Tucker was more than a little awed by him.

  Walker rolled his eyes at Wade’s taunt, but a flush spread up his cheeks. “At least I’m not falling in love with every brochure that comes my way.”

  “Hey, I want options. Nothing wrong with that.” Picking up the spatula again, Wade started in on another batch of pancakes.

  “Options are good,” Tucker agreed. Damn how he wished he could say the same for himself and his Luis dilemma. They seemed fresh out of options, no choices that would work and not end in more misery and heartache. Unlike Wade and his buffet of attractive alternatives, Tucker simply didn’t see a way out of this for himself. It was all the more depressing in the face of such adolescent enthusiasm. For the first time in a long time, Tucker missed when the world had been that wide open and shiny.

  “I figure I’ll apply everywhere, see where I get the best package—”

  Tucker let out a relieved laugh. “My bank account thanks you for that.”

  “See?” Wade whirled back to Walker. “Dad’s not freaking out. He gets it. I’ve got to go where I’ve got to go.”

  Where I’ve got to go. Tucker did get it on multiple levels. Like he understood Luis had to return to California, that that was where his roots were, where he’d bloomed, where he wanted to be. And Walker would reach this same understanding with Wade—Tucker was sure of that. When you loved someone, you let them go.

  Whoa. Wait. He felt deeply for Luis, no question, but was it that kind of unconditional, selfless love? Maybe so because he did want the best for Luis, even if that wasn’t him, even if it meant bearing this awful emptiness in his chest that even the distraction of this conversation with the boys couldn’t erase.

  “I’m cheering for you,” he told Wade, even though it was hard, even though he would miss him like crazy. And Luis too. But he had to do it, had to let them go.

  “I don’t get why you have to leave.” And okay, maybe Walker wasn’t quite to that point yet himself. The pain in his voice made Tucker reach over, pat his shoulder.

  “Because sticking around here with you and Mary Anne isn’t happening.” Wade punctuated his words with crisp movements as he plated some pancakes for Tucker and himself. “And U of O isn’t exactly knocking on my doorstep to play Division One ball either.”

  “It doesn’t mean he doesn’t love us,” Tucker interjected before Wade could make things worse. And that was another truth he knew in his bones. Luis not wanting to move didn’t mean he didn’t love Tucker. And maybe it meant Luis loved him more, not willing to give him an unhappy, bitter version of himself, resentments stacking up until eventually the whole thing toppled.

  “Ha.” Walker didn’t sound convinced. “Just because you struck out with Mitch’s sister doesn’t mean you couldn’t be happy here.”

  “Sure I could.” Wade shrugged as he finally took a seat next to Tucker. “I just don’t want to.”

  Ah. That right there was the heart of his argument with Luis. Tucker knew he could be happy here. If Luis would only let himself...but he simply didn’t want to. And that was valid. After all, Tucker didn’t want to move and uproot his family, and if he was being totally honest with himself, he hadn’t even considered the possibility of going to California. Not since he’d had notebooks filled with facts about smoke jumpers and pictures from Luis of a life they could have, sunny and open, no more cold and gray days. This could be us. Oh, how he’d treasured that picture. And there he was back to being seventeen again himself, world full of shiny promise and California starring in all his big dreams.

  “Must be nice to have options.” Walker’s voice was a combination of dismissal and longing.

  “You could—” He started, but Walker cut him off by holding up his hand.

  “No. I couldn’t.” Hunching over his plate, Walker stabbed his last piece of pancake. His eyes were pained, and Tucker’s heart ached. He couldn’t fix this. Couldn’t make Walker choose differently, even if he could see the bitterness coming. All he could do was rub his shoulder and hope he figured things out before it was too late.

  He might not. Tucker weighed that possibility. And just as he’d seen future Wade owning that Midwestern college, he could see Walker staying in place, always wondering what might have been.

  Like me. Did he truly want to grow old here alone, watching Walker navigate through regrets, wallowing in his own? Wasn’t that the real question? Did he want to be here missing Luis forever? And if the answer was no, why wasn’t he fighting more to keep him, whatever it took?

  Next to him, Wade was thumbing through the catalog again, a little smile on his face. Risk taker. He’d always been one. Tucker not so much. He’d stayed here once even when his dreams had pulled him elsewhere, even when he’d fallen asleep every night senior year dreaming of a different life, one full of adrenaline and sunshine. But he wasn’t a risk taker, and he’d had reasons for not packing up the day after graduation. Wade wouldn’t have. Wade would have loaded the car even before the ceremony. Wade wouldn’t leave that dream unchased.

  And no amount of lecture was going to sway Walker. Nothing might, but what kind of example was Tucker setting for both of them? He needed to sit with that question, really sit with it. He’d assumed for twenty years that good men stayed, that he had no alternatives, but was that truly the case? He simply didn’t know. And he needed to unearth some answers quickly before it was too late for him. For Luis. For them. Before he let his second chance slip away.

  * * *

  Luis had often wondered what it would be like to be one of those people who lost their appetite when feeling down. Not him. He’d lost track of how many teeny kitchens he’d attempted stress cooking in, how many times he’d tried to convince himself that making some comfort food would solve the ache in his chest. His usual healthy eating resolve went out the window when disappointment reigned supreme, all other emotions fading into a big mass of regret.

  Thus, Sunday morning he was attempting to use his tiny hotel kitchenette to make chilaquiles the way his abuela always had—lots of tortillas and sauce and plenty of queso fresco. Of course, the whole time he wished he was cooking for Tucker, and when his phone buzzed, his heart leaped. Might be ill-advised, but if it were Tucker, he was going to answer. Simply going this many hours without contact was hard enough.

  But the call was Mami. And further fool that he was, he answered, making it through the pleasantries on autopilot. Yes, he was fine. No, he wasn’t sure of a return date. Yes, he’d heard about the fires. Yes, he wished he were there to help. All truths and yet so far from the whole story.

  “Is it so bad being back in Oregon?” Mami made a rustling noise. Chances were good that she too was cooking, something that brought him comfort, same as the way they effortlessly fell into t
heir usual mix of Spanish and English conversation, her accent heavier as she peppered him with questions.

  “Not sure,” he hedged as he stirred his skillet. “Seeing some old friends here and there hasn’t been terrible.”

  “Old friends?” Her tone perked up, but Luis was having none of it.

  “A few. Tucker says hi and that he misses your cooking.” He kept his tone deliberately casual.

  “I always did like that boy.” She’d never known the full story of what happened to their friendship, and he sure as heck wasn’t going into it now.

  “But it’s still the same rural area. Nothing much open after five other than chain stores and restaurants. Waiting on tractors on country roads. Lots of belt buckles and rodeo ads.”

  “See, that I always liked. Give me all the cowboys.” She laughed, but he made an outraged noise.

  “Mami!”

  “What? I like to look. You don’t have to sound so scandalized. I always liked it there. So pretty. The mix of all that green and then the desert colors. The ability to go for hikes in the summer without roasting. Housing prices didn’t hurt either.”

  Luis’s view of his past tilted, old assumptions wavering in the face of her surprising enthusiasm. “Didn’t you miss LA? Could have sworn I remembered you being excited about moving back.”

  “Of course, I was. I’ve always liked new adventures, and I missed family. Our neighborhood. But missing people is different from hating a place.”

  “Huh.” His tangled-up emotions were becoming more knotted by the moment. As the new kid, his longing for familiar people and things had been closely tied to how he felt about the area. And now as an adult, resentment over the assignment and mixed emotions about seeing Tucker again had initially clouded his return. But he could also admit Mami had a point. The cheaper cost of living and gorgeous scenery were nice bonuses. “I guess if we had to be somewhere new, there were far worse locales the bank could have sent us.”

  “Exactly. I wasn’t miserable in Oregon by any means. It was a great opportunity for Papi. His parents didn’t work every day of their lives to send him to school to see him waste that sort of chance. And it was good for you boys too. Room to roam.”

  “We certainly did that.” It had been a long time since he’d let himself dwell on the happy memories. Even after reconciling his friendship with Tucker, he’d kept his focus on the present. But there had been good memories. Long hikes with Mami and his brothers. The bigger house and yard, all the possibilities for hide-and-seek he and Tucker had maximized as kids. His first time river rafting. The fire explorers program. All the school plays, and the way the whole town had come out for them. He’d found his love for the outdoors in this area and his passion for firefighting had sprung from this place as well.

  “But now your brothers have given me so many reasons to stay local, I don’t even have the time to travel that I always said I would.” She laughed lightly but Luis still felt the sting. Grandkids trumped everything else in her life, including apparently her urge to experience fresh adventures.

  “How are the kids?” he asked, both dutifully and to get her away from pointless walks down memory lane that only left him more confused.

  “Oh, the birthday party is going to be so fun!” She filled him in on all the particulars before adding, “We all hope you can make it. You’re their favorite!”

  “Because I bring toys.” He went ahead and plated the food he’d probably only pick at.

  “You spoil them, yes, but we want you there because we miss you. Maybe no more trips for a while?” Her voice was softer now, less upbeat.

  “I don’t have much say in it, but that would be nice.” God knew he was going to be recovering from this one for a long, long time. He’d survive the hurt because he’d been here before, but damn, this part where the loss seemed to come in waves was the worst.

  “Yes, I’m sure your apartment misses you too.”

  “Not sure I miss it.” He laughed but it was true. It was still his rebound place, the place he’d found because he couldn’t stay in the old one with the memories of Mike closing in on him. He’d literally signed the first lease in his price range that he’d found because he’d been too stressed to manage a long hunt. Only later, coming out of his grief fog, had he noticed all the little things he disliked about the place. Seeing Heidi’s and Tucker’s houses had only underscored for him that he probably needed to move. He seriously doubted it would help him get over Tucker any faster though. A nicer kitchen was only going to make him wish he was cooking for someone special. Someone like Tucker.

  “You could always move in with me. There’s room.”

  “Thanks, Mami, but you know I need my space.” More like he needed his life. He loved his family, loved spending time with them, but he needed his own life. His own...

  Family. He sank into a chair at the tiny dining table. That was what was missing from his life, what he’d been in a funk over without ever naming it. Even after he ended the call, he continued to sit there, ignoring his food, rubbing his temples. He’d come close to having a family with Mike—they’d certainly cared for each other and started building a life together. But then he’d lost all that potential, lost a piece of himself too. And it had taken him time—years—to return to this place where he wanted that. His own family. Someone to come home to. Overlapping social circles. Extended family. All of it.

  And the worst thing was that he could see that life with Tucker, so easily. The two of them at the center of a life rich with people and food and shared interests. They could be a family, not simply a couple. And God, he wanted that. He wanted Tucker every night, not stolen visits here and there. He wanted Tucker to...

  What? Make the impossible happen? No. He knew better than to demand that from Tucker. But letting go of all the potential they had for the life he truly wanted, that was hard. He honestly wasn’t sure he could, wasn’t sure he could go back to his old life as the perpetual bachelor uncle, the single friend, the unattached coworker. And if he couldn’t, then where did that leave him? Right here. Desperately wanting an answer to all his mixed-up questions, already missing Tucker more than anything.

  Meow. Out of nowhere, Blaze launched herself into Luis’s lap.

  “What the—Cat, what are you doing?” He reflexively started to pet her. Years together and he could count on one hand the number of times she’d willingly snuggled with him. Maybe she sensed how down he was. Or maybe she wanted to tell him to stop being an idiot.

  Probably that. She undoubtedly missed Tucker’s house too, would rather be there, would rather Luis figure his stuff out. Regardless, here she was, purring in his lap. He took a deep, steadying breath. Funny enough, Blaze feeling sorry for him made him feel even more alone and hopeless. Like his last, good chance at that life he wanted was gone.

  How many chances are you going to get? Fragments of his conversation with Walker kept filtering back to him as he kept petting Blaze. How many chances in life did a person get to have what they truly wanted? He had a feeling he already knew the answer, so now the real question was how to apply that knowledge.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Watching Luis at work Monday was torture for Tucker. Their eyes had met during the morning meeting, both of them looking away fast. Which was understandable because no greeting or meaningful look was going to solve this gulf between them. Tucker couldn’t pretend that he was okay, and he doubted Luis had it any easier. The last time he’d ached this bad, he’d been kicked by a horse out at his folks’ place. Luis’s tired eyes looked like he too hadn’t been sleeping much. And it wasn’t like he had a clue what to say to Luis in any event.

  He’d done nothing but think for the past day, turning everything over and over in his head, trying to find a reason to go to Luis with something more than desperation. Now, because he still hadn’t found those answers, every interaction hurt. Seeing the tight lines around
Luis’s eyes and mouth made his chest ache. Noticing his tense posture while he tried to joke with Garrick as they waited for another meeting to start made Tucker swing his feet against his chair base, restless with a need to be over there too, a craving for one more smile.

  The meeting was an update on the arson investigation, and Luis was so damn smooth as he presented that Tucker couldn’t help but be impressed all over again. He was so good at the job, pointing out minutiae in various clues, finding relationships where others might miss the connections.

  “I’m headed over to the air base later today for an interagency meeting about the case. I’m expecting to be able to report a big break soon.”

  Ah. No Luis to accidentally bump into that afternoon should have been good news for Tucker’s worn-down psyche, but it was simply one step closer to no Luis in the office at all, something Fred made clear when it was his turn to speak.

  “Hope that break arrives soon. I know you want to see this case through, but California is getting loud about needing you back.” Fred shuffled the stack of papers in front of him.

  “Yeah.” Luis nodded like this wasn’t a surprise to him. His gaze never so much as flitted Tucker’s direction. “I talked to some folks back home today. They’re almost as shorthanded as you are here. The hiring freeze has affected everyone.”

  “Thankfully, that’s about to be over, but good luck scheduling interviews at the height of fire season,” Christine interjected.

  “Yup. And that’s where we’re at.” Fred drummed his thick fingers against the table. “Was hoping we’d have you through the holiday weekend, but I think this week is going to be it. See what you can do to have everything you’re working on ready to hand off by Thursday.”

  This week. Thursday. Three days and change. Hours. He was running out of time. Luis said a bunch of other things, mainly updates on how officials were monitoring activity on some potential spots the arsonist hadn’t hit yet, but Tucker’s brain was still crackling like a radio station out in the desert, only intermittent signals making it through.