Page 11 of Hemlock Firestorm (Black Timber Peak Hotshots #3)

"Our Mom," my voice catches, and I have to swallow hard before I can go on.

"She got us to an upstairs window before the fire separated us from her.

She was forced to go out her bedroom window.

Our window was our only way out. My dad was a local firefighter and was working with the local Hotshot team coordinating with them.

He came as fast as he could and was waiting below the window, waiting to catch us.

But I froze, Cole. I was so scared. I couldn't move, couldn't breathe.

The flames were everywhere, and all I could think was that I was going to die if I jumped. "

Cole's hand finds mine, squeezing gently. I cling to it like a lifeline as I force myself to relive that terrible night.

"Jacob was always the brave one. He took my hand, looked me right in the eye, and said, 'You have to jump. Just jump, Jo. I'm right behind you.' And somehow that broke through the fear. I jumped, and Dad caught me."

I pause, the words sticking in my throat. Cole waits patiently, his lips pressed against my shoulder, not kissing me but just listening intently. His warm breath cascades over my skin with each exhale.

"But because I hesitated, when he finally went to jump, a beam collapsed. He was trapped inside." The tears come now, hot and stinging. My raw throat tightens further. "They got him out, but the damage was bad. He was in the hospital for months. And then..."

A sob escapes me, and Cole pulls me closer, enveloping me in his warmth. I turn my face into his chest, letting the tears flow freely for the first time in years.

"It should have been me," I choke out. "If I hadn't frozen, if I'd jumped sooner, he wouldn't have hesitated. Every time I close my eyes, I see him telling me to jump. I hear those words over and over: 'Just jump, Jo. I'm right behind you.' But he wasn't. He isn't. And it's my fault."

Cole shifts us, the space blanket slips but he doesn’t look away from my eyes.

Cole cradles my face in his hands, forcing me to meet his gaze.

His eyes are fierce, filled with a mix of compassion and determination.

"Listen to me, Jo. It wasn't your fault.

You were a child, facing an impossible situation.

Jacob was a brave boy to stand behind you and make sure his sister made it out. "

I shake my head, wanting to believe him but unable to shake the guilt that's been my constant companion for so long.

"But I should have been braver. I became a smokejumper to honor him, to be fearless like he was.

But every time I jump, I hear his voice.

I see his face. And I wonder, what if I freeze again?

What if someone else pays the price for my fear? "

I see the sudden understanding in Cole’s eyes, like I'd given him the key to understanding why I am the way I am.

Cole's voice is gentle but firm. "We all have our reasons for fighting fires.

Jo, you're one of the bravest people I know.

You face your fears every day, every jump.

That's true courage. Jacob would be proud of you. "

"I wish that were true." I whisper.

His words penetrate the fog of guilt and grief, offering a glimmer of absolution I've never allowed myself to feel even if it isn’t true. I knew the truth but I wouldn’t argue. I lean into him sideways, exhausted by the outpouring of emotion but somehow lighter for having shared my burden.

"It wasn't your fault, Jo," he murmurs against my hair, his words a balm to my battered soul.

I shake my head, a bitter laugh escaping me. "Funny. That's what everyone says. Doesn't make it true."

"I mean it," Cole insists. He shifts, turning me to face him.

His eyes bore into mine, intense and sincere.

"We make split-second decisions out there.

Sometimes they're right, sometimes they're wrong.

But we make them with the best information we have at the time.

All those decisions we just made? They may or may not have made a difference, but we tried. " He sighs. "We tried because of you."

His words strike a chord deep within me, and fresh tears spill over. Cole brushes them away with his thumb, the tender gesture at odds with his calloused hands.

"Thank you," I whisper, my voice muffled against his chest. "For listening. For understanding." I know these things need to be said to others, to my family, to make them understand, but I don’t feel like they’d listen. They certainly wouldn't have when I decided to become a Hotshot.

Cole’s arms tighten around me. "Anytime," he murmurs.

"I know a thing or two about guilt," he says quietly. "After Rick, I replayed that day a thousand times in my head. What I could have done differently, how I could have saved him." He swallows hard, Adam's Apple bobbing. "It'll eat you alive if you let it."

I study his face, seeing the shadow of old pain etched in the lines around his eyes. Without thinking, I reach up to cup his cheek, his stubble rough against my palm. "How do you bear it?" I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.

Cole leans into my touch, his eyes fluttering closed for a moment. "You honor their memory by living. By doing the job they loved, saving the lives they can't anymore. "

His words resonate within me, striking a chord I didn't know existed.

For the first time in years, I feel a glimmer of something like hope.

Cole sees me — really sees me. Not just the tough exterior I present to the world, but the broken pieces I've tried so hard to hide. I was beginning to truly see him too.

There’s a long moment of silence before I speak again.

"You jumped, Cole." The sudden realization hit me in the face. Duh.

"Hm?"

"You aren’t a smokejumper anymore." I pause working things out in my mind out loud.

There's a wealth of meaning in those five words. A dozen unasked questions. Cole pauses, considering his response. I can see the internal struggle play out across his face.

"Yeah, what’s your point?" He says quietly. "Haven't since Rick."

I feel my heart constrict at the admission. "But you did. For me."

He meets my gaze, and the intensity I see there takes my breath away. "Yeah," he says simply. "I did."

I nod, gritting my teeth against a fresh wave of emotion as I think about what would have happened had he not come for me.

"Thank you. I know what it must have cost you and what it may still cost you.

" I realized suddenly that he also broke protocol when he came to get me, that was against what he preached to the rest of us.

He pauses, meeting my eyes again. "You'd do the same for me."

"In a heartbeat," I say softly, meaning it with every fiber of my being.

Something passes between us then, an understanding that goes beyond words. For a moment, I let myself imagine a world where we could explore whatever this is.

We sit in silence for a long moment, the crackling of the small fire the only sound in our small sanctuary.

As the weight of our confessions settles between us, I feel something shift.

A wall I've kept carefully constructed for years begins to crumble, and for the first time in a long time, I allow myself to hope for something more than just survival.

I'm acutely aware of how close we are, of the warmth of his skin against mine.

Cole's gaze drops to my lips, and my breath catches in my throat.

The distance between us seems to shrink, an invisible force drawing us together. I tilt my chin up, pulse thundering in my ears. Cole's hand comes up to cradle the back of my neck, and I let my eyes drift closed.

His lips brush against mine, soft and hesitant at first. It's barely a kiss, more a question, a tentative exploration.

I lean into him, answering with a quiet desperation I didn't know I possessed.

The gentleness gives way to something more urgent, a need born of shared danger and long-suppressed longing.

Cole's fingers tangle in my hair, holding me close as if he's afraid I might disappear.

I clutch at his shoulders, the blanket falling away unheeded.

The kiss deepens, and I lose myself in the sensation.

For a moment, the world falls away. There's no fire, no danger, just Cole and the way he makes me feel alive in a way I haven't in years.

I taste salt on our lips and realize I'm crying. Cole pulls back slightly, his forehead resting against mine. His thumb brushes away a tear, the gentleness of the gesture nearly undoing me.

"Jo," he whispers, my name a prayer on his lips.

I open my eyes to find him looking at me with such intensity it steals my breath. There's desire there, yes, but also understanding, compassion, and something deeper that I'm not ready to name.

"Cole," I breathe, my voice shaky. "I-"

But whatever I was about to say is lost as his lips capture mine again. This kiss is different - slower, deeper, filled with unspoken promises. I melt into him, allowing myself to hope, to feel, to want something beyond mere survival.

My hands slide up to cup his face, feeling the rasp of stubble against my palms. Cole's arm wraps around my waist, pulling me tighter against him. The heat of his body, the solid strength of him, grounds me in the moment. For the first time in longer than I can remember, I feel safe.

We break apart, both breathing heavily. Cole rests his forehead against mine, his eyes closed as if savoring the moment.

I study his face, tracing the lines of exhaustion, the faint scars that speak of battles fought and won.

When he opens his eyes, the vulnerability I see there makes my heart ache.

I find myself giggling. "Cole. That wasn’t by the book."

I can’t see his lips, but I see the crinkle around his eyes that lets me know he’s smiling. "I guess I went rogue like someone else I know."

The sudden whir of rotor blades shatters the moment. We spring apart, the spell broken, as reality comes crashing back. The sound grows louder, and through the canopy, I catch a glimpse of a helicopter .

"Is that-?" I begin, hope and frustration warring within me.

"There!" Cole shouts, pointing to a speck in the sky that quickly resolves into a helicopter.

We each wrap our space blankets around us, relief washing over us as the chopper descends.

It hovers above the small clearing near our camp, unable to land in the dense forest and they clearly can’t get low enough to drop a ladder.

Instead, a package is dropped, dangling from a bright orange parachute.

Cole retrieves it, his hands shaking slightly as he tears it open. Inside, we find water, high-energy MREs, sleeping bags, new Pulaskis, rope, another flair and a sealed envelope. It was clearly put together hastily. He rips it open, scanning the contents quickly.

"It's from Hansen, I left the team back there with him.

Morrison got in," he says, relief evident in his voice.

"Jesus that man writes chicken scratch." He reads for a bit before relaying the message.

"He's still holding down the fort at base.

Apparently everyone is having a hell of a time with their sat phones.

Chief is there and pretty pissed." Cole clears his throat.

"Says there's a spot about ten miles northeast of here.

" He unfolds the included map, studying it intently.

I see an area circled with red marker. "If we can make it there and signal, they'll be able to pick us up. "

I nod, a mix of relief and trepidation coursing through me. Ten miles doesn't sound like much, but in this terrain, with our exhaustion, it might as well be a hundred.

Eventually, we settle back down by the fire, but the easy intimacy of before has evaporated, replaced by a hyper-vigilance born of fear and exhaustion.

"We should try to get some sleep," Cole says, voice gruff. "Long day ahead tomorrow."

I nod, suddenly bone-weary. We arrange ourselves as comfortably as we can, each of us wrapped in our sleeping bags. Cole's arm drapes over my waist, a protective gesture that sends warmth blooming in my chest despite the circumstances.

"Cole?"

"Yeah?" His voice is rough.

"I’m worried about the town in the valley." I know our fire line wasn’t enough. There wasn’t enough time and the wind had been working against us since the very beginning.

"I know you are." His arm tightens on my waist, pulling me closer to him. "Trust in our team. They know what they’re doing. There’s nothing you can do right now other than sleep so we can get out of here and back to work in the morning."

I wonder if either of us will have jobs when we get back. I disobeyed an order to abort, and I doubt Cole was given the okay from the chief, Morrison, to jump. It was going to be a shitshow when we get back.

As I drift towards an uneasy sleep, the kiss replays in my mind, leaving me with a confusing mix of regret and anticipation. Whatever's growing between us, it's as exhilarating as it is terrifying.