by Gemma Snow
Though she’d remained in good touch with Micah and Dec over the years, especially as they had expanded their S&R training camp and she’d risen through the ranks in the emergency response field, they never, ever mentioned what she had spoken of that night—or how her relationship with Cade Easton and Sawyer Matthews was complicated on a good day and downright disastrous on a bad one.
“As long as you’re keeping a good head on your shoulders,” Dec said, giving her a once-over that felt nearly identical to the one Wes had given her last time he’d been home from South America.
“Don’t get all big brother on me,” Hollie said, taking a step back. “I may make a habit of jumping out of planes, but no part of me plans to take that route while I’m back here.”
Dec’s lips twisted, but he didn’t say anything else, for which Hollie was grateful. It was bad enough that she was back here, bad enough that she had to see Cade and Sawyer. The fewer people who knew, the fewer people who could make underhanded comments or pass judgments, the better. Not that she expected Dec McCormick to pass judgments. Neither he nor Micah was the type. But she was back in Wolf Creek as a grown adult, and the time for mind games and fantasies was well past.
“Hollie, I’d love for you to meet someone,” Dec said, interrupting her quickly derailing internal monologue. “We both would.”
Hollie turned and spied a beautiful brunette standing between Dec and Micah. She was tall, which meant a lot considering both men were well over six feet, and she had a shine in her eyes and a smile on her lips that would have made her pretty even if her long hair hadn’t been sleek and soft freckles hadn’t dusted her nose and cheeks.
“This is Lily Hollis—she’s the new park ranger for Black Reef and her sister owns the Triple Diamond.” Dec paused and glanced down at Lily Hollis with an expression of pure, unadulterated love, and something in Hollie’s heart swelled and deflated all at the same time.
“She’s ours, Hollie,” Micah finished. Beside him, Dec continued to gaze longingly into her eyes and Lily just smiled. “Both of ours.”
The way he said the words was so simple, so calm and casual and basic, that it took Hollie a full moment to register their meaning. She had lived in three countries, more than a dozen cities, experienced unique cultures, foods and languages and yet, it still came as a slow shock, like rising too quickly from a dive and feeling the lightheadedness start to set in. She looked at Lily again.
“It’s a lot to take in, I know,” Lily said with a genuine smile. “I wish I could say I thought of it first, but my sister gets all the credit.” She popped up on her tiptoes and indicated a cluster of people, where Maddy Hollis, the woman who had checked Hollie in the night before, stood with two men. “She inherited the ranch and she got everything came with it.” Everything being Christian Harlow and Ryder Dean, two boys who’d been a few years older than Hollie in school and who’d had a reputation as troublemaking and heartbreaking.
“She converts people too,” Dec said on a laugh. “We made friends with a couple of federal agents that were here back in January. One conversation with Lily…” He trailed off, or maybe her ears had just stopped working, because there was no way…
There’s always been a way.
It was a thought that had haunted her for years, a fantasy, the imagining of a desperate girl who would never even try to realize what she wanted. Even though she wasn’t afraid, not of heights or insects or public speaking, God, she was so very afraid of this.
“Hollie.” It wasn’t until Lily placed her arm on Hollie’s shoulder that Hollie had even realized her train of thought had left the station. “I do hope this isn’t going to prevent us from becoming friends.” Her voice was soft and sweet, but Hollie didn’t doubt for a second that the woman was made of something stronger, something Hollie had never been made of.
“Not at all,” she said quickly. “I’m happy my friends are happy. If it’s a little unconventional, that doesn’t bother me.” It did, however, bring back fantasies she’d long repressed, fantasies of how that night might have gone, of too many hands, too many bodies, of writhing against hot, hard muscle, the kind to which she had compared every lover and experience to follow.
“I’m glad you see it that way,” Lily said brightly. “Wolf Creek is such an open community. There’s been a lot less blowback than I expected.” She indicated toward the ridge and Hollie kept pace with her as they moved away from the crowd.
“Dec is right about Ev,” she said, when they were a short distance away and only Hollie could make out what she was saying. “Ev had answers to questions she didn’t know how to ask and it so happened that we were here to help her make sense of things.” She turned and gave Hollie a look that made her feel like a blinking neon sign with every thought and emotion in multicolor display on her forehead. “I saw the expression on your face when the guys introduced me, and I just wanted to say that if you’re ever in a situation where you need…well, whatever it may be, look us up. We get it.”
Hollie couldn’t help herself. She threw her arms around Lily’s neck and hugged her before pulling back, laughing slightly.
“I’ll never, ever need those kinds of answers,” she said. “But God, it feels so good to have a friend here. I haven’t been home… I haven’t been back in Wolf Creek in a long time.”
Lily’s smile was genuine, but before the conversation could develop further, Savannah came jogging up, her dark red hair swishing in a ponytail behind her.
“Sheriff just pulled up, which means we’re all set to get started,” she said. She typed out a few things on the tablet in her hand, then passed it over to Hollie. Hollie nodded, gave Lily one last smile and returned to the clearing of tents. With the S&R teams, fire department and sheriff’s department, there were about thirty people clustered before her, and she stepped up on a chair to gather their attention.
“Thank you all so much for joining us,” Hollie began, amazed to hear that her voice was calm, solid, without a hitch or waver. This was what she was good at. Analyzing how more than one relationship in this tiny town had turned out so…unconventional was not what she was good at, and it was a decidedly dangerous path to tread, given the history looming behind her. But standing before heroes and heroines and preparing for an emergency, that she could handle.
“We’re going to divide Lewis and Clark County into five districts. Flash floods are expected in districts two and four, with critical infrastructure systems in districts two and three.” Savannah handed her the printed map and she indicated the locations while she spoke, the group responsive and engaged. They were professional rescuers, most of them, conditioned to work in extreme environments and all too familiar with the location and terrain. Whatever Mother Nature had in store for them, Hollie knew they would be able to see it through to the other end with minimal damage.
As for herself…
Hollie glanced out into the crowd of firefighters, police officers, a few friendly faces—Dec and Micah among them—people she recognized from growing up here, from living here, from being a part of Wolf Creek.
And Cade.
And Sawyer.
It was hard not to recognize them.
Cade stood at the edge of the circle, his body stiff, his attention fixed on her and the notebook in his hand. He was taller than she remembered, certainly more muscled, and with a good pair of blue jeans on he could have been the consummate Captain America, all power and respect and a sense of duty that shone through in his dark brown gaze, in the way he held himself.
Sawyer lazed against the world—and against the side of his Jeep, legs crossed at the ankles, hair curling against his shoulders like shining red jewels. He was gruff and ready to fight, if the tattoos curling up both arms and peeking out from the crew neck of his shirt, and the dark black studs in his ears, were anything to go by.
They’ve grown up quite nicely.
A thought that would surely be her undoing.
But as Hollie continued her presentation and kept half
an eye on both men she had been avoiding for so long, there was one irrefutable truth. Wolf Creek might survive the storm unscathed, what with this team keeping watch, but there was no way Hollie would make it back home in one piece.
Chapter Four
Sawyer wasn’t about to call it sulking. Hell, he never sulked. He drank and partied and put up a Devil-May-Go-Fuck-Himself persona until he’d been well and truly left alone, then he squashed whatever pesky emotions might have made him sulk way down deep until all that was left was the hard, shiny shell and a lot of expensive ink.
And since he was not sulking, that meant he was in the barn to see if his Dr. Doolittle skills had kicked in or Narnia was hidden behind some saddle bags and extra bales of hay.
Next time Annabelle asks me to babysit, we’re skipping story time. Not that Sawyer would ever skip story time if his niece looked at him with those baby blues of hers, but she was clearly making him soft, and if there was ever a time to have his battle armor on…
He leaned over the edge of one of the gates, where a dark brown foal sat folded up in a pile of limbs, watching him with discerning eyes. Fine. He’d take the creepily human gaze from the young horse over standing out in the field, trying to focus on his job, when Hollie fucking Callihan was just a few feet away.
Hollie.
He couldn’t hate her. He’d tried for so long to hate her and it simply hadn’t worked. Hell, he didn’t even hate Cade, though he’d never admit it aloud. It was just…
She had been the first woman he had ever loved. She had made him a better man—hell, she had made him a man where others had failed. Then she’d disappeared into the mist without a trace, leaving the two of them behind to make heads and tails of what had happened and how to move forward.
A rustle near the door caught his attention and when Sawyer turned, he couldn’t keep from swearing under his breath. Thinking about Hollie hadn’t summoned her all those years ago and it didn’t summon her on the lonely nights he spent in his empty bed, but apparently practice made perfect, because there she was in the flesh right before him.
Looking more beautiful than ever.
More dangerous than ever.
“I’m sorry,” she said, tripping slightly over the words, a faint flush spreading across her cheeks. Gone was the powerful emergency responder she had been just a few moments before. Gone was the woman who had dared them all to jump from the highest cliffs in the Black Reef Mountains to the waters below, taking the leap herself before anyone else got the chance. She was just a woman, standing there looking like she didn’t have a clue what to do next. “I didn’t realize anyone was in here. I’ll leave you to it.”
“Hollie, wait.” Sawyer didn’t know what in the fuck had prompted him to say that. The less time he spent with Hollie, the better off they would all be. Still, he’d never been able to stand seeing her sad in all the years he had known her, and the idea that she felt vulnerable, exposed because of him wrenched something in Sawyer he hadn’t realized was still wrenchable. “You can stay. If you want.”
Her expression changed as if to tell him, point blank, that he was half the reason she was looking for cover. Still, she took a step farther into the barn, then another, until the door swung shut behind her and Sawyer caught her scent against the hay and wool of the bar. She was floral, just like the early spring outside—more a breath of fresh air than an overabundance of flowers, but beautiful and potent in her own right.
And though he ached hard with outright frustration and pain and anger, part of him burned for that scent, for the way she had felt in his arms, for how she would always be his spring that would never come. He had a lifetime of April showers waiting for him and lusting after Hollie Callihan wasn’t going to make them any easier to bear.
“Sawyer.” She paused. Shoved her hands into her pockets. Leaned against the wooden gate behind her.
“I’m going to need more than that,” he said, his tone rough and angry. She didn’t appear shocked by it. “You’ve been gone a hell of a long time, Hollie. Things aren’t the same now as when you left and, frankly, I don’t think there’s ever going to be a space for you to go back to the way they were.”
Her shoulders sagged and he hated himself just a little bit for saying it, hated that he hated himself for it when her absence had been his greatest torment for years.
“I’m not here to stay,” she said defiantly. “I’m here to do my job, just like you.” She looked down at her feet. “Congratulations, by the way. On making captain. I know how much it meant to you.”
She knew, because they had spent nights under the stars sharing their hopes and dreams. And she knew because he had told her—the one person he had ever told—that he was going to make something of himself one day. And she knew, because she had supported him.
For a while, at least.
“And you,” he said, after a long moment. “Never pictured you for the office-job type, but I can see how skydiving and parasailing can get boring.”
She shot him a wry grin and shook her head.
“I never stopped doing any of those things. But I needed the stability and I like helping people. Surely you can understand that.”
Without question, but the idea of Hollie in an office still sat upside down for him. Then again, he didn’t know this version of her, hadn’t known her in a very long time.
“I hope you’re happy, Sawyer,” she said quietly. “Truly.”
I was before you showed up.
Bitchy, but true. He’d been happy enough and not questioning what it would be like to find true and everlasting love, until she’d arrived and poured a shot-glass-worth of salt into what should have been a healed-over wound.
“Annabelle’s married,” he said instead. “Two kids. They’re building a new house near Holter Lake.”
She smiled. “I’m glad to hear it. Wes won’t be, but he lost his chance.” Because there was something about the Callihan clan and the Matthews clan that was forever entangled and entwined, even though Annabelle was only half-Matthews, out of the house before Sawyer had even really been a person, and Wes Callihan had never been one to find solid ground for longer than he had to.
“How’s he doing?” Sawyer hated this, hated the stilted conversation with a woman he’d felt closer to than everyone else in the world. But what else was he supposed to say?
“Wes is good,” Hollie said slowly. “He’s going back to South America for another tour with the Peace Corps. I think he’s teaching this time.”
What Hollie didn’t say, what she didn’t need to say because Sawyer knew from nothing more than the look in her eyes and the tone of her voice, was that she was lonely. Just like Hollie, her brother was an adventurer, forever throwing darts at a map to see what hit. But Hollie had a domestic, cozy streak about her that might have accounted for the desk job in a way Wes never had. And when she had very intentionally lost track of Wolf Creek, Hollie had been forced to start over, to make entirely new friends and connections.
“This is hard,” she said after a moment. “Being back. Seeing you and…seeing you all grown up and living your dream. I’m so happy for you, Sawyer, truly. But it’s going to be a long two weeks.”
Understatement of the century if I ever heard one, but she already knew that. And since he was feeling generous, Sawyer was willing to concede that Hollie didn’t just have one piece of her past to contend with. She had two. Entirely of her own doing, of course, but still.
“It’s not easy for me either,” he said, glancing to the toe of his boot, which had never been interesting before this moment. Finally, he looked back up, caught her eye and stroked his beard. Her gaze followed the moment of his hand and he almost, almost smiled. He’d been a rough and scraggly ginger of a kid, and the only reason he’d avoided a solid bully beat down every other day of the week was because he’d learned how to fight early on, how to keep people off his back—most people, at least—and how to hold his own. Last she had seen him, the hair on the top of his head had been s
hort and the beard had been shorter—full, but at eighteen, not yet something to be proud of.
“You like the beard?” It was inane because what the fuck, Matthews, and also because it was a pickup line he’d used a few too many times in a few too many bars. Women almost always liked the beard, liked the ink and liked the muscles under his firefighter gear.
“You’re so grown up,” she managed, and though her voice was wistful, laced with nostalgia and sadness, those words made heat curl in his belly and an ache spread though his body. Part of him wanted her to turn around, walk out of that door and never come back. Part of him wanted to show Hollie Callihan exactly how grown up he was.
“You haven’t changed in the slightest,” he replied instead, hearing the gravel in his voice and hoping to fuck she didn’t. She raised her eyebrow and Sawyer just managed to keep a straight face. She was, of course, more beautiful than ever, her skin golden from a lifetime of adventures he hadn’t been invited on, wisps of hair escaping her ponytail and framing her face, those discerning dark blue eyes. Her eyes had always reminded him of the ocean—calm, but because they wanted to be, and oh so capable of wreaking havoc on a man.
She took a step forward, then another one, and Sawyer had to wonder how it was this, her nearness, the way her hand trembled at her side as if she were struggling not to reach up and cup his face, that made his heart pound so wildly and his mind feel so out of control where running into burning buildings never had.
“I missed you,” she said. Her voice was quiet but the statement seemed to echo around the barn as if she had shouted into her emergency megaphone. “Just thought you should know.” She turned to leave, but Sawyer grabbed her wrist.
“No.” His pulse was burning through his veins now, pumping blood as quickly as the rapids in the valley below. She faced him, her expression curious, almost anticipatory, as if she didn’t have any better idea how this was going to play out than he did.
“No?”