Page 8 of Hemlock Firestorm (Black Timber Peak Hotshots #3)

SIX

JO

The world tilts sideways as a gust of superheated air slams into me no doubt singing the peach fuzz on my cheeks. I stumble, my grip on the drip torch loosening. Time slows as I watch it slip from my fingers, clattering to the ground and rolling away.

"Shit!" I lunge for it, but another blast of wind knocks me flat on my ass. The sky above me churns with smoke, angry reds and oranges painting a hellish landscape.

For a moment, I’m twelve years old again, and the smell of the burning wood wasn't forest trees but the walls of my childhood bedroom. I can hear Jacob’s voice, frantic, pushing. "Jo, you have to jump. Just jump, I’m right behind you. "

A hand closed around my arm, yanking me upright. Cole’s face swam into focus, his green eyes sharp with concern. My muscles tighten, resisting the primal urge to collapse against him, to let his strength become my own. I wouldn’t.

"Jo! You with me?"

I blink, shaking off the memory. "Yeah, I'm good." My voice comes out steadier than I feel.

Cole's gaze sweeps over me, assessing. "You sure? That was a nasty fall."

"I said I'm fine," I snap, pulling away. His touch is too grounding, too safe. It makes me want things I don't deserve to want and I hate it. "We need to finish the ring."

A distant crack echoes through the forest, followed by the unmistakable groan of a falling tree. We both tense, eyes locked on the wall of smoke bearing down on us. The smoke isn't just a cloud, but a beast of its own. It rolls, and roils, hungry for more to consume.

"Hadley." Cole's voice is low, urgent. "Talk to me. What are we looking at?"

I scan the approaching inferno, my adrenaline kicking in and forcing down the fear. "The wind's shifted again. It's.." My voice wavers, and I clench my jaw in frustration. Get it together, Jo. "It's creating a pincer movement against us. The fire's flanking us on both sides."

Cole nods, his expression grim. "Agreed. Our original plan isn't going to cut it. What's your read on our options?"

For a brief moment I wonder if Cole is asking me because he knows I’m good at this or if he knows that if he keeps me focused I will stay calmer.

I lay out the possibilities, my voice steadying as I fall back on facts and figures.

It's easier to focus on fire behavior than the suffocating fear clawing at my throat.

As I talk, I find myself drifting closer to Cole. His solid presence is an anchor in the chaos, much as I hate to admit it. He listens intently, occasionally interjecting with observations that make me want to kick myself for not seeing them first.

"Good catch," I grudgingly admit after one particularly insightful comment. "Your old man wisdom comes in handy sometimes."

He quirks an eyebrow. "Old man? I'm six years older than you, Hadley."

"Ancient," I deadpan. "Practically decrepit."

A ghost of a smile tugs at his lips, and something warm unfurls in my chest. I squash it ruthlessly.

Now is not the time, Jo.

"Alright, Grandpa," I say, all business once more. The break of humor makes me a little steadier. "We have to make a run for it. Try to find a way around the flanks before they close in completely."

"Absolutely not." Cole's voice is steel. "It's too risky. We stick to the plan, hunker down in the burn zone."

"Absolutely not." I repeat his words in the same tone.

"The plan might have worked before but it won’t now!

As soon as the winds changed again it made the ring fire less effective.

" I step closer, grabbing his jacket. "This ring isn't going to hold.

We'll be toast! We’d be better off passing through the edge. "

Passing through the edge was super risky. It meant we’d have to run through the flames barreling down on us to get behind the fire where all the fuel had burned up already. The problem was the wall was far too thick and this wasn’t some cartoon where if you run fast enough, flames don’t burn you.

"And running blindly into an active fire zone is better?" He towers over me, eyes flashing. "I'm not losing anyone else to a goddamn forest, Jo. Not on my watch."

I frown at his words unsure how many people he’d lost as a Hotshot. Was he talking about Rick or had he lost more people?

"News flash, Whitlock. You're not responsible for me!" The words come out harsher than I intend, but I can't stop. "I don't need you to play the hero. I need you to trust that I know what I'm talking about!"

"Trust?" He barks out a laugh. "That's rich, coming from you. When have you ever trusted anyone but yourself?"

"Because trusting people gets them hurt!

" The admission rips out of me before I can stop it.

I realize that I have put no outward trust in Cole when I have asked it of him.

Cole's eyes widen, and I barrel on, unable to stem the flood.

"You think you're the only one with ghosts, Cole? My brother isn’t with me because I hesitated.

Because I was too scared to jump when it mattered.

So don't you dare lecture me about taking risks! "

The silence that follows is deafening. Cole stares at me, something shifting in his expression. When he speaks, his voice is low, raw with an emotion I can't name.

"Rick was more than my partner," he says quietly. "He was my best friend. My brother in everything but blood. And I watched him fall to his death."

My breath catches. I knew about the accident, of course – everyone did. But hearing Cole speak about it, seeing the pain etched in every line of his face, well, it hits differently.

"Cole, I?—"

He shakes his head, cutting me off. "I'm not telling you this for sympathy, Jo.

I'm telling you because I need you to understand.

When I say we can't risk it, it's not because I don't trust you.

It's because I can't watch someone else I—" He breaks off, swallowing hard.

"Someone else I care about die on my watch. "

The admission hangs between us, heavy with implications neither of us is ready to face. For a moment, the roar of the approaching fire fades away. There's just Cole and me, standing too close in this bubble of shared pain and unspoken longing.

My hand loosens on his jacket. I want to comfort this man. But before I can move, reality comes crashing back with brutal force.

A tendril of flame leaps over our hastily constructed fire line, hungry and eager. Cole and I spring apart, the spell broken.

"Fuck!" I spin in a circle, assessing our rapidly diminishing options.

Think, Jo. Think!

My gaze lands on my pack, and suddenly I remember the map. I lunge for it, yanking the crumpled paper free.

"Jo, what?— "

"The river!" I thrust the map at Cole, jabbing my finger at a thin blue line. "Look, there's still a small gap in the fire front to the east. If we book it, we might be able to reach the water before we're cut off completely."

Cole studies the map, brow furrowed. I can see the argument forming on his lips, but another gust of scorching wind cuts him off. The decision is made for us as flames lick at the edge of our clearing.

"Fuck it," Cole growls in resignation.

We snatch up our packs, abandoning the drip torches and any non-essential gear. There's no time for second-guessing or goodbyes to the equipment that's saved our asses more times than I can count.

Then we're running, sprinting for our lives through a gauntlet of smoke and flame. The forest is a nightmare hellscape, trees exploding into pillars of fire all around us. My lungs burn, every breath a struggle against the superheated air.

I focus on Cole's back, using him as a guide through the choking haze. My legs ache, muscles screaming in protest, but I push harder.

An eternity passes in minutes. Just when I think my body will give out, I hear the faint rush of water over the inferno's roar .

"There!" Cole shouts, his soot covered arm pointing ahead.

We burst through a final stand of trees, and suddenly the river is before us. It's not wide, maybe thirty feet across, but right now it might as well be the goddamn Pacific.

We skid to a stop at the water's edge, gasping for air. The fire is at our heels, a ravenous beast determined to devour us.

"Strip down!" Cole yells, already shrugging off his pack. "Anything that'll weigh you down in the water, lose it!"

I don't hesitate. It feels wrong to abandon such vital gear, but the alternative is drowning. I chuck my helmet aside, afraid the rapidly moving water will catch underneath it. Cole jerks off his caged helmet since it was all he had to protect his head. I pull off my gloves afraid they will make it harder for me to swim. Keeping our boots on is risky. They could weigh us down but we can’t be left without anything to protect our feet.

We are both left in our wildland gear of our specialty shirts, pants, and boots. As I work, a new fear grips me. The water. It was fast moving and filled with debris. While I am a decent swimmer, I don’t tend to swim in these conditions .

"Jo!" Cole's voice cuts through my spiraling thoughts. "We gotta go, now!"

I look back at the wall of flame bearing down on us, then at Cole's outstretched hand. My heart pounds, terror threatening to root me in place.

Just jump, Jo.