by Marnee Blake
Whatever. Not his problem. Sure, they could make things harder for him, spread rumors, but nothing they did would affect whether he passed through training or not.
He wasn’t going anywhere.
She harrumphed, returning to her needles. He chuckled and returned to the kitchen to unload the rest of the groceries he’d brought her.
He didn’t get here to visit as often as he liked, only a few times a year. Since he and his mom moved to California, after his father died, his mom had no desire to return. This had been her husband’s hometown, after all, and she and Gram had never gotten along. She’d only moved here because this was where he’d wanted to jump. With him gone, she’d moved south. It was warmer there, she said.
Lance thought she just couldn’t take the whispers any more.
“Heard the Buchanan girl’s going to be one of the assistant trainers.” Gram’s words ripped through the silence and stilled his hands.
Was she talking about Meg? “What?”
She glanced at him again, her brows lifted over her glasses. “There’s only one Buchanan girl, isn’t there?”
“Yes. That part, yes.” He waved his hand. “The other, though. What do you mean assistant trainer?” Surely the world couldn’t be this cruel.
“Heard it from Harriet. Her grandson’s on the hotshot crew. He’s friends with Bobby Mitchell, the head physical trainer at the air center.” She pointed a crooked finger at him. “Said that the Buchanan girl would be Bobby’s assistant this year.”
He propped himself on his hands, letting his head fall between his shoulders and closed his eyes.
Damn it. He hadn’t asked why Meg was at the air center. He usually had such attention to detail. She wasn’t a firefighter. Gran had told him in passing, during another trip, that she’d gone to school to be a physician’s assistant, at University of Washington. She shouldn’t have any reason to be at the air center.
For him, though, the Buchanans were a package deal. He’d grown up with the three of them, and he bet that if the twins had been older, he would have hung out with them, too. They’d all been a family. So having her there, with her brothers, had seemed normal.
“Assistant trainer, huh?” Of course. Because the universe hated him.
“That’s what I hear. She’s always running those marathons and whatnot. Can’t even go to church without hearing some other damn thing that girl has excelled at.” Gram snorted.
Lance opened his mouth to defend her, but stopped when she looked at him expectantly. He snapped his lips closed. Anything he said would give too much away.
He turned, to shield his face from his shrewd grandmother. He hated to admit how much he kept tabs on the Buchanans, especially Hunter and, to an uncomfortable extent, Meg. Hunter was to be expected. They’d been friends forever, and he hated how he’d left things between them. He missed the guy. Before their meeting today, he’d thought he might be able to explain things. Mend fences.
Now, he doubted it. With them vying for the same jobs, and thanks to the past, he didn’t think there’d be room to patch things up.
His interest in Meg was more complicated.
As his best friend’s kid sister, she’d been off limits his entire life. He’d tried to pretend she was his sister, too. He didn’t have any siblings, and when he was around the Buchanans, he desperately wanted some.
Then high school began, and it became harder to pretend his feelings were sisterly. There was something between them, something awake and aware. When they were alone, he couldn’t ignore the weight in the spaces between their bodies. Sometimes, she studied him expectantly. As if she sensed it, too.
Except she was Hunter’s sister. Hands off.
So they’d been friends, and he’d buried the rest of his wishful thinking, right where the sun didn’t shine.
It stayed there, too, except that one time, the spring before their fathers died.
She’d been upset about something, he couldn’t remember what. He’d hugged her on her parents’ porch, and somehow, she’d ended looking up at him, her blue eyes full of unshed tears. He’d run his thumb over her cheekbone, desire raging through his nearly seventeen-year-old body, hot and needy.
Tilting her head back, she closed her eyes and leaned into him.
It had taken everything he had to step backward, to grip her shoulders and set her away from him, when everything inside him screamed to pull her close, to cover her soft mouth with his.
Her eyes had flared open, and a flush had lit her features like a torch. She’d muttered something unintelligible before running inside. Letting her go had twisted his stomach.
After that, things were different. She’d been stiffer with him, artificial. Probably not apparent to anyone else, but he’d known. In his desperation to change nothing between them all, he’d ruined everything.
Their fathers died, then, and he was gone.
Today, he drank her in, like a man who’d crossed a desert and was dying of thirst. He’d realized, seeing her again, that she was as inaccessible now as she’d been all those years ago. Not because of his loyalty to her brothers, her family, but because she and her family wanted nothing to do with him now.
It had bothered him, and he’d lost his temper. That had been stupid. If he’d kept his cool, he would have handled Will better…especially if he’d known Meg was going to be his physical trainer.
If he planned to prove that he’d outgrown his adolescent hotheadedness, he was off to a bad start.
Tomorrow, he needed to pass his physical test. He didn’t expect any problems. He was in the best shape of his life. But he couldn’t afford unnecessary enemies, especially when they had the power to get him thrown out of the program.
Perfect. Leave it to him to get off on the wrong foot before he even started the damn training.
He could fix this. Tomorrow, he would apologize for stirring things up with Will. She shouldn’t have had to interfere in that situation. Then he needed to back way off from her. The less direct contact, the better. Head down, get through this training. That was his new mantra.
Meg Buchanan had always been a soft spot for him. He couldn’t afford that now.
If he was going to find out what happened with his dad in that fire, he needed to be here, in Redmond, to do it. There was no better place to fill in the holes in the official story. That meant he needed to be a smokejumper here, whatever it took.
He rubbed his hand over his face. Meg had stepped between him and Will, had defused what could have been an uglier scene. She’d always been the peacemaker, the one with the rod of steel in her spine who’d kept the testosterone of her siblings in check, never letting them go too far.
On some level, she still saw him as someone worth going to bat for. That had to mean something.
Maybe if he could talk to her, explain, say he was sorry…it was worth a shot.
“Does Meg still live in Bend?” he asked Gram. She’d know. She knew everything.
“Yes.” She didn’t pause in her stitches. “But, she’s probably at her mother’s.”
“Yeah?” He swiped his keys off the counter, and shoved them in his jeans pocket.
Gram reached for her scissors, not looking at him. “Always goes there when she’s in town. Good thing, too. Woman’s house is a mess. Needs all the help she can get.”
“Thanks,” he interrupted, before Gram could launch into a longer diatribe against Meg’s mother. He didn’t know where Gram got her intel, but he never doubted it. He swept forward, dropping another kiss on her cheek. “I’ll be back in a little bit.”
“Did you bring me food?” She called after him. “I’m starving.”
Smiling, he paused in the kitchen to put half a sandwich and some pasta salad on a paper plate for her. Then, he set the food up on a tray table beside her. She patted his cheek, briefly holding his eyes. “You’re a good
boy.” She sniffed. “Even if you don’t come and visit your grandmother enough.”
He laughed. “Don’t clean that up. I’ll put it away for you when I get back.” Gram still got around well, but he worried when she moved things.
“Don’t tell me what to do in my own home, child.”
He chuckled again, locking the door behind him.
Chapter 3
As always, Meg’s mom’s house was a disaster.
Meg started cleaning, per her usual, in the kitchen. Dishes and counters. She dragged Ethan away from the Xbox and he was sweeping. Kyle hadn’t surfaced yet, but when he did, he could man the vacuum.
Opening the trash receptacle made her gag. “When is the last time anyone cleaned this out?”
Ethan shrugged, still unhappy that she’d interrupted his “Call of Duty” game.
Covering her mouth, she hightailed it out the backdoor, dumping the contents of the thing into the outdoor garbage can. Snagging the hose, she filled the bin with water and left it there to soak.
Stomping inside, she opened the cabinet under the sink. Sure enough, there was an unopened bag of trash bags. No one had bothered to put one in the can, so the inside of the thing was a science experiment. “Ethan. You guys need to put trash bags in the garbage can. It’s nasty.”
Her brother lifted his shoulders again. “Mom doesn’t care.”
Their mother didn’t care about much of anything. “Not the point. It should have the liner. Do it for me. It’s disgusting.”
He rolled his eyes. At fourteen, the eye rolls were strong with this one.
The sound of tires on the driveway drew her attention. Her mother’s older model Ford Explorer ground to a halt outside the window.
Meg had hoped to make more progress before she got home. The dishes were still soaking.
Her mom came in, still in her nursing scrubs. “Why’s the trash can outside?”
“Because it was nasty.” Meg waved a hand over the kitchen, taking in the sticky counters and dirty floors. “This is pretty gross, too.”
Ethan propped the broom on the wall, patting his hands on his legs. “I’m out of here.” With that, her brother beat a hasty retreat as if he could smell the upcoming argument.
That wasn’t the issue, though. It was fine if he didn’t want to be around for the fight. What bothered her was that her mother let him go. It looked like she let Ethan and Kyle get away with a lot these days.
Karen Buchanan sighed, dropping her handbag on the kitchen table, on top of whatever was already sitting there. She wore weariness like a secondhand coat that didn’t quite fit. Meg didn’t remember her mother being this tired when she was a child, but since her father’s death, exhaustion seemed like all she could manage. “I know. I’ve meant to clean this week, but it got away from me.”
This week? It looked like the kitchen hadn’t seen cleaning supplies since Meg had been here three weeks ago. She didn’t think that would be a helpful observation, though.
“Why aren’t you making the twins help out around here?” She pointed after Ethan. “Like that. You’d have never let Will, Hunter, or me get away with that.”
“Meg, it’s hard, being a single mom…”
She’d heard some incarnation of this speech more than a few times over the past couple of years. Lifting her hand, she stopped the excuses. “I hear.”
Her mother’s face fell.
Sighing, she placed her hands on her hips. This wasn’t fair. Her mother hadn’t invited her to come here and ambush her when she got home from work. The place was always a disaster when Meg got here. This was nothing new. She was taking her shitty day, seeing Lance again, all of it, out on her.
Her mother watched her warily, her dark hair pulled in a low ponytail, not much different than the one Meg wore today. But, it was disheveled, with lots of wayward wisps. Without a stitch of makeup, her mom looked at least ten years older than her true age.
Stepping forward, Meg folded the woman who used to bake her cookies into a hug. They stood like that for a long minute. Closing her eyes, Meg breathed in her mother’s familiar smell. Finally, she pulled away and smoothed her mom’s hair back, behind her ears. “Go get showered. I’m making lasagna.”
Her mother’s eyes looked shiny, but she nodded, swallowing hard. Snagging her bag, she left Meg alone in the kitchen.
She leaned against the sink, staring out the window.
Since Meg had moved to Bend, her mother seemed even worse than she used to be. If she was one of Meg’s patients, Meg would suggest antidepressants. She’d even mentioned them in passing on a few occasions over the years, but her mother had only gotten angry. Then she’d improve for a few months only to sink back into herself again.
Why did everything here, in Redmond, feel unbalanced? In Bend, she lived an orderly life, in her tidy one-bedroom apartment. She had a few good friends she had drinks with after work, had begun dating one of the doctors at the hospital there, Shawn. It was casual, and even after a few months, it hadn’t gotten any more serious. But she liked him. He was like her: enjoyed good food, good wine, and quiet conversation.
It was normal. Maybe even a little boring.
But when she got home, in this town, everything became so complicated.
As if to punctuate how problematic things were, the open window admitted the sound of a loud muffler outside. She’d already heard that noise once today.
Pushing away from the sink, she stepped out on the back porch as Lance’s Jeep came into view down her mom’s winding driveway. As he parked behind her mom’s Explorer and killed the engine, she glanced behind her, hoping that her brothers—and definitely her mother—didn’t come investigate. She’d already had her fill of family drama for the day.
The sound of her mom’s shower running filtered through the wall. Ethan was probably buried in his headphones and COD. Safe.
The driver’s door swung wide, and Lance jumped down. Pulling his mirrored aviators off his face, he tossed them onto the seat before slamming the door behind him.
Damn it, why did he have to look so good? He tucked his hands into his jeans pockets, and the stance accentuated the cut muscles of his arms and chest. Glancing up at her on the porch, he squinted into the late afternoon sunshine, leveling her with his signature confident grin. “Hey.”
“What are you doing here?” All the frustration of the day swirled through her, making her voice testier than she would have liked. “My mom just got home.” She didn’t add that she doubted her mother would want to see him, but it hung unsaid, in the air.
His grin faltered slightly before slipping back in place. Like it was some mask he wore. “How’s Mrs. B?”
That’s what he used to call her, all through their childhood. The way he said it made her heart clench. “She’s fine.” It was a lie, but she wasn’t talking about it with him. “Why are you here?” she asked again.
“Listen, Meg…” He tilted his head. “Can you come down? Sit with me? I only need a minute.” He lifted his hands in an ‘I’m innocent’ gesture. “I’m harmless. Swear. For old times’ sake.”
She should send him away. Starting tomorrow, she was going to be his trainer and this conversation probably wasn’t professional. But, she’d watched his face while Will ragged on him. He’d looked pained.
The memory of that look guided her off the porch. She sat on the second to last step.
His grin this time was more like the smiles she remembered, wide and genuine. Her stomach flipped, and girlish butterflies danced in there. She ignored them.
He lowered himself beside her. “I wanted to apologize.”
That had been the last thing she expected him to say. The Lance she used to know didn’t say he was sorry. “Apologize?”
“Yes. I behaved badly, at the air center.” He swiped his hands over his hair. There were already peaks and valleys in it, a
s if he’d been running his fingers through it all day. “I shouldn’t have let Will get to me.”
She shrugged. “No problem.”
He rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah, it was. I was stupid.” He glanced at her. “You shouldn’t have had to step in. I put you in a bad position.”
Thinking about standing next to him and touching him sent heat creeping up her neck. She resisted the urge to duck her head. Stupid pale skin.
Despite her flushed face, she hated watching his discomfort. She propped her elbows on her knees and nudged her shoulder against his. “It’s over. I can handle it. Like you said, I’m all grown up.”
She meant it to sound teasing. That would have been bad enough, falling back into bad habits, joking around with him like old times. Something about being here, on her mom’s porch, the site of more than a few late-night conversations with Lance, had her twisted up.
But when his gaze met hers, his eyes were hot. As they raked her face, her stomach warmed, and tingles shimmered from there to her toes. She clasped her hands together so tightly that she was afraid she might break something.
He glanced into the woods next to her mother’s property, and when he looked back, the heat was gone. As if she’d imagined it. He chuckled. “That you are.”
Shrugging, she scrambled to recover her wits, to pretend she wasn’t affected at all, while simultaneously wishing her blush would disappear.
“You’re going to be the assistant physical trainer.” His words, spoken at the trees in front of them, made all the butterflies in her belly die.
She laughed, standing, needing some distance. Of course. Why else would he come looking for her? He was worried that she’d ruin his chances at training. While she sat there hyperaware of him, he’d been watching his back.
As she paced away from him, she tried to regulate her breathing, like she did when she wanted to lower her heart rate on a run. “That’s right. I’ll be in charge of the actual physical training. Bobby Mitchell is going to retain control of the testing and the safety training. There are other trainers for the coursework.” She had met them today. They all seemed nice enough. She hoped they’d make a cohesive team. “Mitch had some back issues last year. He isn’t able to do the runs and pack-outs like he used to.”