Hot Shot

by Karina Halle

  “Please, don’t,” I tell him, closing my eyes. “I can’t…”

  “Can’t what?” he asks. “Can’t believe what I have to say? You’re everything I’ve been looking my whole life for and you’ve been right in front of me all this time. My heart, my everything, it belongs solely to you.”

  I shake my head slightly, my chest pinching. “But do you love me?”

  He reaches out and smooths a strand of hair off my face, his fingers trailing over my cheekbones, down to my lips, my skin dancing under the touch of his. My eyes open to meet his and I see the honesty in them, the want, the need. His need to love me.

  “I will. I promise you I will.” He clears his throat and when he speaks his voice is choked with emotion. “I’m falling in love with you,” he whispers. “A little bit more each day. It’s spreading, like fire. Like wildfire. I can feel it ignite every part of me, from the deepest corners of my heart to the lost places in my soul. It will eventually consume me and I want to be consumed, Del. I want to love you, burn for you, until there’s nothing else left. Just your heart and mine.”

  I blink away tears. I feel the intensity come off of him like heat. He burns for me and I burn for him. My fire rages and roars and his is just kindling, but it’s happening all the same.

  But things don’t happen overnight.

  It will take time for Fox to figure out if he loves me or not.

  It will take time for Fox to love himself.

  It will take time for me to believe him.

  I think that’s the biggest obstacle of all.

  He kisses me again, this time on the forehead. “I’m going to go now.”

  “Where?” I ask.

  He rests his hand on my stomach and bends down to kiss my belly and, god, I might just start crying again. I’m melting with love.

  “To the ranch. Say hello. Tell my dad and grandpa that I’m back, telling them what happened. Ask for their support.”

  “Okay,” I whisper, my throat closing up. “Anytime you want to come over…”

  “Just text me,” he says. “Or I’ll text you. I’ve got a lot of catching up to do.”

  And then he turns and heads down the hallway.

  We do have a lot of catching up to do.

  I’m just not sure where we stand.

  And where we’re headed.

  Fox doesn’t stay for long.

  I get a call from him a week later telling me he has been called out to a fire. It’s a bad one and they need all the hot shots they can get. It’s broken out just outside the city of Penticton. It’s not normal to get fires this time of year but with an early spring and very little rain, the interior of BC is dry as hell.

  The fire originated in a barn on the outskirts of town, probably from a cow kicking over a lamp into a bunch of hay or something like that, but it’s raging out of control now and threatening a bunch of subdivisions, so of course Fox and the North Ridge Hot Shots are the first team to be sent out.

  Of course, I don’t want him to go.

  Not even a little.

  The stress I used to feel when he was gone fighting fires is even worse now that I’m so close to my due date. In a way, it was better when I thought he was in Whistler, when I thought he didn’t care. Now he’s here and I know he cares.

  He cares a lot.

  In the last week I’ve seen him a handful of times and he even came with me to my prenatal screening the other day. My doctor certainly didn’t expect to see him, but luckily he was welcoming, albeit a bit condescending at times. Fox took it all in stride, eager to learn everything.

  We’re still in this state of limbo. We’re not physical with each other. There’s a distance that I’m not sure how to close. I know what I want and need from him and it’s a waiting game, waiting to see if he’s falling in love or just trying to. The act of loving someone should be effortless. It’s not a push off into the unknown, it’s a surrendering.

  I surrendered to Fox a long time ago.

  Time will tell if he’ll ever surrender to me.

  I try not to think about it.

  It’s pretty fucking hard when he’s the father of your baby.

  And still, I tell Fox not to go.

  I tell him that I need him. Now that’s he back, I want to keep him here. We’re getting so close to the due date, I’m frightened that if he steps out now that I’ll lose him forever. I’m afraid that those flames will try and claim him after being lost to the ice and snow for so long.

  I’m afraid that this is what happens on the tail of an epiphany. That life is that much of a sneaky bitch that the moment you realize you need to start it over, that it’s going to be taken away from you.

  I know I’m paranoid. I can blame the pregnancy for that.

  But Fox can’t stay, he won’t stay.

  I tell him that it’s going to be hard in the future when he’s gone all the time, when I have to worry all the time.

  And he tells me that he knows.

  But still, it’s his job, it’s his role, his identity.

  The hero with a broken soul.

  So he goes.

  And I stay behind and wait.

  I’m extra tired these days, as if that’s even possible. Not only is my body preparing for this baby to be born, but on top of it, now I’m worrying about Fox. Anxiety has me upside down.

  “You look a little green,” Shane says to me, pulling back the sheet of foil paper to glance at the dish Vernalee cooked up. “So does this.” Enchiladas with verde sauce for dinner. Again. I don’t even like it, but the baby does. Can’t get enough of that. Or cake. Sometimes both mashed together.

  “I’m feeling a bit off to be honest,” I tell him. “Thanks for bringing these, by the way.”

  My mother is having an off-day too, so the two of us are kind of hostage in the house today. Thankfully Shane and Rachel were able to drop off the food, plus Rachel brought more of that tea I’m addicted to. I can’t seem to drink enough liquids and yet my body is retaining water like crazy.

  “You’re stressing too much,” Rachel says, taking me by the arm and leading me over to the couch. “You need to rest. I’ll make you some tea.”

  “How can I not stress,” I say to them. “What if Fox doesn’t come back?”

  “He always does,” Shane says. “He’s the best at what he does and he’s sharper now than ever.”

  “What if…what if he does come back but the stress of the job catches up with him again and causes him to relapse?”

  Shane nods, rubbing his lips together anxiously. “I’d be lying if I said that wasn’t something I thought about. But we have to let him do what he does. This is a part of his life.”

  “Though honestly, I think he should quit,” Rachel says simply. Shane and I look at her in surprise. “Just being honest. This isn’t the kind of job a new dad should have.”

  “But it’s his livelihood,” Shane says. “It’s like me quitting the ranch.”

  “I know. I’m not saying it would be easy. I just think he should. Del and the baby need him around.”

  “Well,” I say slowly. “I did do pretty well without him.”

  Shane gives me a sharp look. “You’ll do better with him.”

  Ever since the two of them made amends, I’ve been noticing Shane’s become more defensive of Fox and visa versa.

  “He left me, Shane. He left us. Because I wouldn’t marry him and he didn’t love me. I know he’s trying and everything and it’s working but that sort of mark doesn’t just heal overnight. It’s going to take some time. To figure out how we work, to trust him.”

  “Why don’t you trust him?” Rachel says quietly.

  “Because I don’t know if he can trust himself yet,” I tell them. I sigh and then have trouble inhaling, my lungs feeling tighter. I shake it off. “I know I’m being silly…”

  “You’re not silly. You’re just trying to protect yourself and the baby,” Rachel says, patting my leg. “Your tea is getting cold, I’ll go make you another.
”

  “No, it’s…” I trail off. Now it’s even harder to breathe than the second before.

  “What’s wrong?” she says, and I look at her and I can’t seem to focus. I look at Shane and it’s the same thing. My vision is starting to blur.

  “What is it?” Shane asks, leaning in closer, hand on my shoulder. “Del, are you okay?”

  “My eyes,” I tell them. “I can’t…I can’t focus. Everything is blurry.”

  “Just breathe, just relax,” Rachel says, sounding calm. “You’re under a lot of stress and you know your blood pressure is—”

  “Fuck,” I cry out as a stab of pain hits my stomach. It’s like it’s being carved right open. “My stomach.”

  “Okay, okay,” Rachel says soothingly, but now her voice is shaking. “Is this Braxton Hicks? Is this the thing you had before?”

  I shake my head. I can barely speak. I can barely breathe. I can barely see.

  “Go…get my mother,” I manage to say before I double over and roll onto my side on the couch.

  Rachel gets up to run off just as I hear Shane say, “Oh shit.”

  “What?” I croak, trying to see what he’s talking about.

  “Del, you’re bleeding.”

  “Oh my god,” Rachel exclaims. “Fuck. That’s not good, is it? That’s not normal?”

  “Miss Gordon!” Shane yells. “Jeanine. Wake up! Del is sick!”

  “I’ll go get her,” Rachel says.

  I can’t respond to any of it, I can only close my eyes as I’m hit with a wave of nausea and pain, like the most powerful cramps I’ve ever had. I cry out, loud, my fingers curling around the couch cushions holding on as tight as I can.

  “Are you in labor?” Shane asks me but I can’t even breathe the words. My lungs are getting tighter and tighter. “Del, look at me.”

  I open my eyes and look at him, but his face is just a blur. Then I see the shape of Rachel’s face, then my mother’s right behind them.

  “Delilah,” my mother says. “Can you hear me? Where does it hurt?”

  I only gasp as their forms seem to get further and further away. My lower back screams with a pain that I think I’m probably screaming too and then a black pressure closes in around my vision.

  “Call 911,” my mother barks at Shane. “Now!”

  I feel her hand around mine. “You’re going to be okay Del, just stay with me, okay? You’re going into labor but you’ll be fine. Just breathe.”

  But I can’t breathe.

  I can’t breathe.

  And this can’t be labor.

  This feels like death.

  Death for me.

  Death for the baby.

  The last thing I feel is a sticky warmth gush between my legs, like life is being drained out of me.

  Rachel cries out.

  And then the blackness takes me under.

  No more pain.

  No more anything.

  21

  Fox

  “So how is the missus?” Davis asks me as the truck bounces along the old logging road, heading to the station. The air is thick with acrid smoke, a sign that the fire is burning hot and quick and to everyone else this is just another day on the job, hence why they’re catching up on the gossip they’ve missed over the winter.

  It’s not just another day on the job though. None of us expected to be called out in the middle of April to a fire for one thing and for me especially, this is the first time I’ve been out on the job knowing that I have a soon-to-be-born baby at home.

  I’m not sure I like it. There’s too much at stake now. Before it was just my life I had to think of and I didn’t think much of it. Now I have to think about Del and the baby. Now I want to. I left them once, I don’t want to do that again.

  But duty calls.

  “You okay, Foxy?” Davis asks, elbowing me in the side.

  Normally I glare at that nickname but today I can’t be bothered. “I’m fine,” I tell him. “And she’s not my missus.”

  “Oh. Shit man. I thought you were engaged.”

  “No,” I say, staring down at my hands. “Not engaged. I proposed but she said no.”

  “Fuck,” Simon, the other guy in the truck, says. “That’s rough.”

  I nod. “She had her reasons.”

  “Like what? Isn’t she pregnant with your child?” Simon asks.

  Now I’m glaring. I don’t appreciate the callous tone. “She is.”

  “Then what happened?” Davis asks.

  I shrug and sigh, staring out the window at the fresh green leaves on the trees. Hard to believe anything is burning right now. “I asked her to marry me. She said no. She said she was in love with me. She asked if I was in love with her. And I told her the truth. I said no.”

  “She needs to get with the times,” Simon says. “Half the marriages out there are loveless. My parents are a great example of that.”

  “Yeah and look how you turned out,” Davis says dryly.

  “Delilah has never been a girl to settle,” I tell them. “She tried that once with someone, didn’t work. She even tried that with me. Now she wants the world and I’m going to do whatever I can to give her that world.”

  “But you don’t love her,” Simon points out.

  I give him a twisted smile. “The funny thing is, man, I think I always did. I just didn’t know what it was. I think I know now.”

  “And what’s love feel like to you?” Davis asks with complete sincerity, despite being dressed in our fire fighting gear, helmet in his hands.

  When you’re part of a team like this for so long, you grow close. I might be more closed-off than the others, I might not contribute much in way of my feelings, but there’s an honesty and comradery that you don’t get anywhere else. They’re as much my brothers as Shane and Maverick are, even if they don’t know it. That’s why losing Roy was so hard.

  And that’s why I don’t shy away from telling them the truth, even over something as sentimental and vulnerable as love.

  “Love is like everything I’ve ever lost has come back to me,” I tell them.

  They both stare at me for a moment, nodding. They get it. Both of them are married. They have babies too. They’ve been there.

  For me, it’s the first time.

  But it’s one hundred per cent real.

  Now that I know what it feels like.

  It feels like coming home.

  It feels like creating a home.

  Somewhere deep in Delilah’s immeasurable heart, that’s where I’ll keep living.

  The fire turns out to be a fucking monster.

  Our team responded to it pretty much right away and the local stations in Penticton and Kelowna were already fighting it, but even so, it’s been growing and growing, and there hasn’t been much we’ve been able to do to stop it.

  Despite it being spring, with some trees and plants still budding, the fire is hot as hell, coaxed by a heat wave this week, a dry winter with very little snow, plus a solid month without any rain.

  The fact that the fire started near town doesn’t help either, the flames jumping from ponderosa pine to ponderosa pine instead of running along the ground. Normally, at least in the past, at least twenty-years ago when this subdivision wasn’t here by the forests and fields, we would have let it run its course. When you bring homes into the question, that’s when things get complicated. Instead of fire being a natural process of renewal of the land, it becomes something that must be snuffed out at all costs, and some of those costs are the lives of the hot shots like Roy.

  So here we are trying to make the decisions based on the homes we can save. Everyone in the subdivision in question and the neighboring surrounds have been evacuated so their lives aren’t at risk but their properties and possessions are.

  And I understand. It would be horrible to lose your home. We had a fire at the ranch last year thanks to a lightning strike and it nearly burned both Vernalee and Shane alive. But it was their lives that were important. The house w
as just a thing. A thing we missed since it was used as the worker’s cottage, but a thing nonetheless.

  Maybe it’s because I’ve found a home in Delilah that I’ve realized that a home isn’t found in a building and so those buildings aren’t always worth trying to risk your life for.

  Maybe I’ve just become disillusioned with my job after this winter, after the counselling, the rehab, after losing Roy.

  Maybe it’s because I have Del and the baby waiting for me in North Ridge and I’m spending each minute more worried about them and how they’re doing than saving some rich dude’s home.

  Whichever way you spin it, I’m fighting a monster and though I will do all I can to tame this beast, I’m starting to wonder if this might be a turning point for me.

  Of course, that thought itself is scarier than anything else.

  If I’m not a hot shot, a fire fighter, then what am I?

  A father, the word shoots through my brain like an arrow. A father, a lover. Maybe someday a husband. You’re Fox Nelson, that’s who you are. One hundred per cent.

  “Fox, we need help at the back burn,” Mad Dog runs up to me, breathless, face black with soot. Night is starting to fall but you wouldn’t be able to tell with how thick the smoke is. “The fireline won’t hold, the flames are a ladder, jumping from tree to tree and that first house at the end of the cul-de-sac has a line of fir along the back of the property.”

  I nod and pick up my Pulaski axe and drip-torch and follow Mad Dog, away from the fireline we’ve all been frantically digging, down the hill toward the houses, jogging all the way, breathing in smoke and fumes.

  With a few of my crew as well as some members of the local fire station, we start digging a new line around the house, this one thick and wide, with plans to start burning down the firs on their property. If they burn first, controlled, they might stop the fire from reaching the house.