Page 17 of Hemlock Firestorm (Black Timber Peak Hotshots #3)

THIRTEEN

JO

I wake to the sound of a loud groan. My eyelids are heavy, my head pounding with the kind of dull ache that promises I didn’t sleep long enough, or maybe just not well enough. It takes a second for the haze to clear and for me to remember where I am.

The medical tent. A cot beneath me. Bandages cover parts of me I don’t remember people covering.

It’s too bright in here— a harsh, sterile kind of light that reminds me of hospital waiting rooms and bad news.

My eyes, so swollen from crying make it so that I’m looking out a slit.

I shift, wincing at the pull of sore muscles, and that’s when I notice Jacob.

He’s sitting in the chair beside my cot, his elbows on his knees and his hands clasped together like he’s praying to a god that never answers him.

The scars on his face catch the light, twisting and turning with each small movement he makes.

I’m not used to seeing him like this. Hell, I’m not used to seeing him at all.

It’s been years, and yet, here he is, looking at me like he’s still trying to figure out who I am.

"Hey," he says, his voice low and rough.

I sit up too quickly, and the world tilts for a second before righting itself. "What are you still doing here?" My voice comes out harsher than I intend, but I don’t soften it. I can’t. There’s too much history between us, too much unsaid.

Jacob doesn’t flinch. He just looks at me, his amber eyes, the same ones I see staring back at me in the mirror every day, steady and unreadable.

"Perhaps now isn’t the best time, but I realize that if I don’t do this now, there may never be another chance.

" He sighs heavily. "We need to talk," he says.

Ugh. No one wants to hear those four words. The words are simple, but the weight behind them is crushing. I don’t want to talk. Not to him. Not now. But he’s already here, and I’m too damn tired to argue.

"Fine," I mutter, leaning back against the cot and crossing my arms over my chest. Maybe I’m acting like a child but damn it all I am still so freaking hurt. The bandage on my arm, probably from a scrape, pulls again, and I wince, but I ignore it. "Say what you need to say."

He shifts in his chair, leaning forward like he’s about to tell me some dark secret. His hands are still clasped together, his knuckles white. Only some of that from the scarring. For a moment, he doesn’t speak, and the silence stretches between us, heavy and suffocating.

"When you told me you were going to become a firefighter," he starts, his voice tight, "I thought it was a sick joke. A phase. Something you’d get over in a few weeks."

I don’t say anything. My jaw clenches tight and I just watch him, waiting for the punchline.

"But you didn’t get over it. You were serious. And when you actually joined the Hotshots, I," he pauses, his jaw clenching, "I felt like you betrayed me and our family."

He may as well have slapped me. I blink, not sure I heard him right. "Betrayed you?" I repeat, my voice rising. "What the hell are you talking about?" I felt anger boil up in me. How the hell had I betrayed my brother?

His eyes flash, and for a moment, I see the anger he’s been holding back.

"You don’t get it, do you?" he snaps. "I spent years in and out of hospitals because of that fire. Years, Jo. I went through hell. The surgeries, the pain, the looks people gave me when they saw my face. And all of it was worth it, because I thought I’d saved you. I thought I’d protected you from all of that. "

"You did," I say, my voice barely above a whisper. And I wanted to protect others like he did me.

"Did I?" he counters, his tone sharp. "Because the moment you decided to throw yourself into the same flames that almost killed me, it felt like none of it mattered. Like my pain meant nothing to you." The bitter hurt laced into his voice made me swallow.

I stare at him, my chest tight, my hands gripping the edge of the cot so hard my knuckles ache. "That’s not fair," I say, my voice shaking. "Dad didn’t stop firefighting. You didn’t give him this freaking guilt trip did you? You don’t get to decide what I do with my life, Jacob. You don’t get to?—"

"You’re right," he interrupts, his voice softer now, but no less intense. "I didn’t and I don’t. But you didn’t even try to explain your reasoning to me. You just made your decision and left me to figure it out on my own."

"Because you wouldn’t have listened!" I snap, the words bursting out of me before I can stop them. I see other people looking at us now and I quiet down. "You were so angry, when I told the family, you didn’t want to hear anything I had to say."

"Maybe I didn’t want to," he admits, his shoulders slumping. "You made Mom cry." He pauses. "Maybe I couldn’t. But I need to hear it now, Jo. I need to understand why you chose this. Why you’re risking your life every damn day when you know what it does to the people who care about you."

The room feels too small, the air too thick. I want to run, to escape this conversation, but there’s nowhere to go. So I take a deep breath, trying to steady myself, and I look him in the eye.

"I became a firefighter because of you," I say, my voice trembling.

"Because of what happened that night. Because I couldn’t stand the thought of anyone else going through what we went through.

Of anyone else losing their home, their family, their…

" My voice breaks, and I look away, blinking back tears.

"Jo." Jacob’s voice is soft now, almost hesitant, but I don’t let him interrupt.

"You don’t get it," I say, my words coming out in a rush.

"That night, when Mom was yelling at us to jump, I froze. I was so scared, Jacob. And you were the brave one. You grabbed my hand and told me to jump, and I did. But I hesitated, using precious time, and because of that, you got hurt. And I’ve blamed myself for that every single day since. I wanted to be brave like you."

Jacob’s eyes widen, and I can see the shock on his face, but I don’t stop. I can’t.

"In my own twisted mind, becoming a firefighter was my way of making up for that," I continue. "Of trying to save other people the way you saved me because I was unable to with you. I jump now, Jacob. I jump when I need to, and I don’t hesitate. I thought if I could stop the fires before they reached anyone else, maybe it would, I don’t know, maybe it would make up for what happened to you.

Maybe it would make me feel less like a coward. "

The silence that follows is deafening. Jacob stares at me, his expression unreadable, and for a moment, I think he’s going to walk away. But then he reaches out, his hand covering mine, and the contact is so unexpected, so grounding, that I almost break all over again.

"Jo," he says, his voice thick with emotion. "You were twelve. You weren’t a coward. You were a kid. We were kids. "

I shake my head, tears slipping down my cheeks despite my best efforts to hold them back. "You don’t understand. I should have been braver. I should have?—"

"Stop," he says, his grip on my hand tightening. "Just stop. You can’t keep punishing yourself for what happened that night. It wasn’t your fault. It wasn’t anyone’s fault."

I want to argue, to tell him he’s wrong, but the look in his eyes stops me. It’s so raw, so filled with a mix of pain and love, that it steals the breath from my lungs. It’s not anger anymore. iIt’s something deeper, something that’s been buried under years of unspoken words and unresolved grief.

"It’s not your fault," he repeats, his voice softer now, breaking on the edges. "And it was never your responsibility to save me, Jo. I don’t blame you for what happened. I never have."

I blink up at him seeing the truth in his eyes.

"But I do," I whisper, the words slipping out before I can stop them. My throat feels tight, and the tears come harder now, spilling freely down my face. "I blame myself every single day, Jacob. For freezing, for hesitating, for not being brave enough. And no matter how many fires I fight, it doesn’t go away. That guilt, it doesn’t go away. "

Jacob lets out a shaky breath, his hand still holding mine as if afraid I might pull away.

"You’re not the only one carrying guilt," he says, his voice thick.

"Do you think I don’t blame myself? For not just pushing you out that window, for not protecting you better?

I never wanted you to see me like this," He gestures at his face. For dragging us both out of that window and thinking I could shield you from the worst of it? I’ve carried that weight for years, Jo.

Seeing you throw yourself into this job, into these fires?

It feels like I failed you all over again. "

I stare at him, stunned into silence. His words hit me like a wave, drowning me in emotions I’ve tried so hard to bury. "You didn’t fail me," I manage to choke out. "You saved me, Jacob. You saved my life. And I’ve been trying to live up to that ever since."

For a long moment, neither of us speaks. The only sounds are my ragged breaths and the faint hum of voices outside the tent. Then Jacob shifts, pulling his chair closer to the cot until he’s right in front of me. He reaches up, brushing a tear from my cheek with a tenderness that breaks my heart.

"We’ve both been stubborn and trying to save each other," he says quietly, his voice steady now, like he’s come to some kind of realization. "But maybe it’s time we stop. Maybe it’s time we figure out how to save ourselves instead by forgiving ourselves. Letting our internal wounds heal."

I don’t know what to say to that. The thought terrifies me; letting go of the guilt, the pain, the sense of purpose I’ve clung to for so long. But deep down, I know he’s right. We can’t keep living like this, trapped in the shadows of a night we’ll never forget.

"Where do we even start?" I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.

He opens his arms and I lean forward letting him wrap himself around me. "Here is good place to start but girl you need a shower." He makes a gagging noise.

I choke on my laughter and insert a finger between his ribs where we are both horrifically ticklish. He’s not wrong. I unsurprisingly smell like a campfire and sweat.

"Hey!" He squirms with a deep chuckle, but I pull my finger back and sink into his hug.

I squeeze him tightly. "I should probably call Mom and Dad."

He rubs my back. "Yeah I’ve been in contact, and they know you will call when things calm down here. I’ve already told them you’re off the mountain and mostly in one piece. Your sanity is still questionable."

"Jacob," I groan. My brother is back. I have him back.

He squeezes me harder and that single hug heals my heart and soul in a way that I can’t describe. Unfortunately, there’s a section of my heart that I refuse to believe is missing, is still missing.