by Marnee Blake
As she staked out a spot near the door she expected them to come in, she tried to pretend she wasn’t waiting for them. It was a fine line between looking busy and trying not to look like she was looking busy.
Dak and Hunter filed in first, dragging their packs and gear. They looked tired, hot, but also relieved. This was the last task in the physical test. They’d both passed and would move on to the next phase. While the physical tests were the minimum requirements and most of the recruits could easily pass, there was stress attached to it. Walking into a new job and having to pass an exam on the first day? She bet they were happy it was over.
Her pride swelled. She’d assumed her brother would pass, but she never got sick of watching him succeed.
If he’d been alone, she would have congratulated him. Except Dak was with him. For all the mental pep talks, she wasn’t ready to join them, not as their trainer. She’d have been fine stepping forward as his sister. Her brother definitely belonged here. Without Mitch, though, she felt out of place.
Which was ridiculous. This was her job. She should congratulate them. Being here, in Redmond, at the air center, had shaken her confidence. This tentative woman…this wasn’t who she was.
Decided, she stepped forward, to talk to them. That’s when she overheard their conversation.
“You know Lance.” Her brother’s voice was deceptively mild.
Dak grunted. “Yeah. We worked together in California.” He continued unpacking his gear, ignoring Hunter. Hunter didn’t let it go, though.
“California, huh?” Hunter threw his pack into his locker. “You grow up there?”
“No.” Dak didn’t expand.
“Why come here?”
She scowled. There was some level of animosity toward outsiders among the local hotshot crews, but she hadn’t expected it from her brother.
“California.” Dak snorted. “All those sandy beaches, the sun…. Sucks.”
She smothered her laugh. It was the perfect response. It pointed out that Hunter was being nosy without directly calling him out.
Hunter snorted, didn’t respond. There was a pause, and she stepped closer, to see them. From her vantage point on the threshold of Mitch’s office, she watched both men unpacking, neither looking at the other.
“Lance is from Redmond. He’s got history here.”
“I hear.” Dak wasn’t giving him anything. Her brother was being rude. Her respect for Dak grew.
Hunter stood then, facing the other man. “Be careful. Knowing him here won’t do you any favors.”
Meg stifled her gasp. What the hell was Hunter doing? Was that a threat? A warning? He should have kept his mouth shut. They’d talked about this yesterday. They agreed that Lance deserved a fair shot.
This was a low blow.
Dak straightened, and the two men sized each other up. Dak’s jaw firmed, and whatever he was about to say would draw a line between them. It was all over his face.
Dak shouldn’t have to defend anyone. She stepped into the doorway. “Hunter,” she snapped. “That’s enough.”
Her brother’s chin notched up and his eyes flashed. He didn’t like to be chastised and she bet he hated that she did it in front of a fellow recruit. But what could he say? She was their trainer, an authority figure, and they both knew it. Spinning away, he returned to his unpacking.
As if her body could sense him where he was, she turned to find Lance in the doorway.
He didn’t say anything. Maybe he hadn’t heard the exchange. The intensity of his gaze bored into her, saying he’d heard enough. She opened her mouth, but what could she say?
To cover her discomfort, she nodded to Dak.
The rest of the recruits filed past her and Lance, breaking the tension, allowing her to retreat. As Mitch joined them and the rookies panted, sweaty and tired, he checked his watch. “It’s only noon, gentlemen. Time for PT.”
Without another word, he walked into the office. They’d all passed, then.
Which meant the real training began. They didn’t get time to snack, not even time to rehydrate. This was smokejumper training. These men needed to be pushed to the edge of their endurance, because if they were expected to parachute into a fire, and then walk back out when they were done fighting it, they needed to be tested.
And testing is what she’d do.
They all hurried around, dropping their packs, getting into training clothes. They looked tired, but exhilarated. Lance nodded to her before he followed the rest of them without another word.
As they dispersed, she tailed Hunter as he headed toward the bunkhouse. No matter what happened in the past, Lance didn’t deserve to be treated like this. She caught up with her brother in the hall, shoving him on the arm. “What the hell was that?”
Her brother folded his arms over his chest, his sullenness similar to what she saw on the twins’ faces sometimes. “What?”
“You were a jerk. That was stupid.”
“It was all true. He wasn’t a good friend to me. Felt the guy could use a warning.” He shrugged, unconcerned.
She blinked at him. “Grow up, Hunter.”
Her brother’s face sharpened with pain for a moment before it closed up again. He trudged to the door, shouldering it open to go outside.
First Will, now Hunter. Lance didn’t deserve that. When their fathers died, they’d been kids. They hadn’t been given directions on how to survive the events of that day or their grief. They’d done the best they could.
That wasn’t enough anymore.
Lance was right. She wasn’t sure if she could be a friend to him, didn’t even know if she could be friendly, not with how attracted she was to him still. But, she could do this. She could smooth things over with her brothers, give him the chance he’d asked for.
Convinced, she returned to her office and jotted a note and her cell phone number on a Post-it. The main room outside was bustling with recruits and seasoned jumpers here to train. In the hustle of it all, she drifted to Lance’s locker space. She dropped the Post-it into his street shoes.
Hopefully he’d get it, or she’d need to find another way to get into contact with him.
Uncertainty gripped her. Spending extra time with Lance was a stupid idea. The more she was with him, the more she wanted to be with him.
She could do this, though. For Lance and for Hunter. They’d been best friends. If she could help them find that again, it was worth it.
If it brought one of her brothers some peace after all these years, she’d do anything.
* * * *
“Are you sure you can drop me at the bar?” Dak threw his jacket into the backseat of the Jeep before climbing into the passenger side. “I can stay here. In fact, I should do that.”
Lance slid into the driver’s seat and jammed the key in the ignition. “I was going out anyway. No biggie.”
Dak grunted, grumbling under his breath about how he hated people.
“Stop it. No you don’t. Get in.” Starting the engine, he smiled at his friend. “Look at you, going out for beers with the guys. When did you become such a joiner?” In California, Dak had never gone out of his way to make friends, kept to himself. Lance didn’t take no, though. He’d nagged, teased, bullied the guy into befriending him. There was a story there, Lance was positive, but Dak kept it to himself. Lance let him. It didn’t matter. He’d always been a loyal friend, and that was good enough for Lance.
Dak punched him in the shoulder. “Shut up.” But he chuckled. “It’s a good strategy. I need to work with these guys. It won’t kill me to have a drink with them.”
“A good strategy? What are you, a robot?” Lance glanced at him as he navigated the turn onto the road into town, shifting the Jeep into a higher gear. “And I don’t know about that. It sounds painful. Sledge is kind of a dickhead.”
“Always one in every c
rowd. You should know.”
Lance barked a laugh. “Nice.”
“So where are you going instead of joining our little gathering? And, can you take me with you?”
Lance’s mouth thinned, and he cast another look at Dak. He wasn’t sure he should share. He didn’t know what was happening with Meg, but whatever it was he’d prefer to keep it close to the vest.
At the end of the day, when he’d returned to his locker to grab his stuff, he’d found a note from her in his shoes.
Let’s talk. Text me. It had listed her number and been signed only with an M.
His heart in his throat, he’d sent her a quick message right there, sweating in front of his locker. Meet you at Stack Park. Half hour?
Sure.
He knew he shouldn’t meet up with the trainer—it wouldn’t look good—but he could trust Dak. He deserved the truth.
“I’m headed to see Meg Buchanan.” He twisted the steering wheel in his hand.
Dak whistled low. “You think that’s a good idea? Hanging out with our trainer, away from work?”
He shrugged. “We’re old friends. She asked to see me, that’s all. Completely innocent.”
The pause that filled the Jeep was empty, as if Dak left it there for Lance to fill up. Finally, he said, “I’m trying to mend fences.”
“Tell yourself that lie. I don’t believe that shit.” Dak breathed out. “I see the way you look at her. Everyone does.”
Lance pursed his lips, but he didn’t respond. He didn’t doubt Dak at all. If he didn’t curb his staring at her, he’d give himself away completely.
“Be careful. That’s all.”
He grunted. “I can handle myself.”
“No, not you. Her.” Dak’s voice was serious. “Does she know you want to look into your father’s death?”
He shook his head. Damn it. That was the problem with good friends. They could poke you in the softest spots.
“I thought so.”
“It hasn’t exactly come up in conversation. ‘Hi, I know this might be hard for you, but by the way, I’m trying to clear my dad’s name and I’ll be digging into our families’ histories. Hope that’s okay.’” Lance snorted. “Please. I just got here. Give me some time to smooth things over before I talk to her about it.”
“Did you plan to do that?”
Lance cringed.
Dak exhaled. “I thought so.” He exhaled. “You care for her. It’s obvious. So be careful.”
Lance pulled into a parking spot in front of the bar. Everything was already complicated enough. Dak was right, after all. He hated him pointing it out, but he couldn’t refute it. So he did what he always did when he had no comeback: he made a joke.
He shifted into park, and reached over to ruffle Dak’s hair. “Go play nice now. Don’t forget your manners.”
“Thanks, Mom.” Dak shook his head and gave him the finger. Lance laughed, and they let it go.
Reaching behind them, Dak grabbed his jacket. Lance pulled his own bag from the back and dropped it onto the seat beside him. A blank envelope slipped out of the open zipper.
Lance snapped it up, showing it to Dak through the window. “Is this yours?”
He shook his head. “Nah. I only brought my jacket. What is it?”
Lance slipped his finger under the fold and pulled out a single sheet of paper. It only had two typed sentences on the page.
You aren’t wanted. Watch your back.
He handed the page to his friend who read it with a glance. “What the hell?”
“I don’t know.” He took the page back, reading it again though the words were already burned in his memory. “I didn’t see anyone near my stuff. Whoever put that in there must’ve done it earlier today, when I wasn’t around.”
Dak leaned in the open window, resting on his elbows, his voice low. “That’s messed up. Would only be creepier is if it was made out of cut out letters from a magazine or something.”
“Yeah. You’re right.” He couldn’t take his eyes off the six words in front of him. Watch your back, watch your back…
First his sneakers this morning, now this.
Did someone know he was looking for information about his father? Is that why he was being threatened?
The first part…that he wasn’t wanted. That sounded like sour grapes, not concern that he was investigating. He loosened his grip on the paper. Whoever had written this, it didn’t sound like they were upset about him looking for information.
Good. It would be better if no one knew he was searching for answers. Doors would close.
“Are you going to show it to Joe? Seems like something he should know.”
Lance tore his head from the page. He refolded the letter, tucking it back into the envelope. “So he can make things weird in the air center, make this harder for me than it already is? No. The best thing to do is to ignore it.” He opened the glove box, tucked the note on top of his car manual and insurance card, and slammed it shut.
Besides, he didn’t need more eyes on him. The closer they watched him, the less he could find out.
“I don’t know…”
“This is some prank. Someone’s trying to scare me, break my concentration. That’s all. I’m not going to let some note freak me out.” He gripped the steering wheel tighter, his resolve firming. “I’m sure it’s nothing.”
Dak patted the door, pushing away. “If you say so, man. But I would be careful. Keep your eyes open.”
Lance offered him his best cocky grin. “Always.” He shifted to drive as Dak stepped back.
“And Lance?”
“Yeah?”
“I’m here, if you need me.”
At any other time, Lance might have made some smart comment, razzing his friend for being overly cautious, but right now with a threatening letter in his glove box, he couldn’t work up the proper bravado. Instead, he nodded. “Thanks.”
Dak saluted and stepped onto the curve outside the bar. As Lance pulled away, he lifted a hand. Lance waved back
As he headed toward the park to meet Meg, he couldn’t keep himself from glancing at the glove compartment.
Chapter 6
The sun was setting as Lance pulled into an empty parking spot at Stack Park. Killing the engine, he grabbed the sandwiches he’d picked up on the way before climbing out of the Jeep.
Across the park, he spotted Meg sitting at a picnic table. Her shoulders hunched and her head down, she leaned forward on her knees with her hands folded together. Even from this far, he could sense her apprehension. It tugged at his gut that they’d come to this. That she would be anxious about meeting with him.
Pausing, he reached into the backseat of the Jeep and grabbed the hoodie he’d tossed there earlier. Then he slammed the door and hit the lock button. Best not to keep it open with that letter in the glove box. The Jeep beeped, and he set off toward her, yanking the zipper on his fleece up higher under his chin.
Traipsing through the dusk light, he grinned. He hadn’t sneaked out to meet a girl at night since high school.
And that girl hadn’t been as amazing as Meg Buchanan.
He trotted over a few jutting tree roots and around a cropping of rocks, wincing. Damn. Everything ached. They’d spent the afternoon training. He’d known the physical requirements of smokejumping would be strenuous, but no one could really prepare for the muscle exhaustion that came from almost ten hours of straight physical activity. They’d done two more runs and so many calisthenics he’d lost count.
That was going to hurt tomorrow.
Seeing him coming, Meg sat up and wrapped her arms around her middle. She wore the same tracksuit he’d seen her in earlier. She could wear a sack and look gorgeous to him, but the outfit wasn’t warm enough for the cool spring night. He offered the sweatshirt he’d grabbed to her. “Here.”
“You’re shivering.” He shook it. “Take it.”
He watched her decide whether it was more important to be stubborn or to be warm. Comfort won.
As she pulled the garment on and it swallowed her slight frame, he tried to ignore how good she looked wearing his clothes. He lifted the food bags. “I also brought dinner.”
She wrapped her arms around herself, smiling. “I didn’t even think about food.”
The statement was so telling it tugged at his heart. Her position, the absence of a coat…she was upset. He didn’t know exactly why, but he could guess that it had something to do with him.
That made his resolve to smooth things over with her even stronger.
He’d decided, after his conversation with her this morning, that he was going to find a way to be make this easier for her, for her family. He didn’t know how, exactly, and even the suggestion that he could accept being friends with her without wanting more was ridiculous. But he was going to try.
It wouldn’t be easy. He planned to find out what happened with his father, and he figured that was going to be…difficult. And he wasn’t leaving training, so if it was his presence—the reminder of how his family had caused chaos in hers—was getting to her, he couldn’t do much about that.
Still, he could go a long way to mending fences. Maybe they could never get back to where they used to be, but they had been friends before. He had his hopes they’d find that again.
Starting now.
He plopped the bag on the table, reaching into the sack, determined to keep the mood light. “After the way you drove us today? You really are a slave driver.” He shuffled the contents as he asked, “When did you start running?”
She shrugged. “After Dad died, I couldn’t sleep, and things were hard at the house. I started to go for runs. I got good at it.” She didn’t go on.
There were so many things he could say or ask. What got hard? Learning she couldn’t sleep…he wanted to know why. Except years of silence remained between them. As he tried to find a way around it, the moment passed.