Page 4 of Redwood Blaze (Black Timber Peak Hotshots #1)

THREE

RUSTY

She’s been gone a while, but when she returns carrying bags of Jackson’s ribs, the team goes nuts. I help her carry in the rest from her Chevy truck.

A woman who drives a truck, that’s hot.

The guys dig in and ignore the spaghetti on the stove that Beauden and Aspen made for dinner. It’ll package up and wait until tomorrow. This is a treat.

I almost feel like she’s bribing us… lemon bars and now this ?

“What’s up, Millie?” I ask as the guys pile ribs, beans, and cornbread on their plates and go to the back of the cabin to sit on the deck and watch the forest. You’d think we’d get enough of it, but when it’s peaceful, we’re full of peace.

“Nothing,” she says too quickly.

I’m not an assistant superintendent, but I’m one of the most senior firefighters on the team and I’m the only original Hotshot here. I’ve done fifteen years stationed at the same post. That’s almost unheard of.

I nod for her to meet me in the hallway. We both nod at a couple of newbies as they walk by. “Now, what’s wrong?”

She’s not fooling me. There’s some shit going down.

“I’m just… I’m just… it’s just nothing. Just drop it, Phoenix”

That’s a whole lotta “just” being dropped there.

I grab her hand and she inhales quickly. Her feet stutter step as I pull her into her office. She always seems to be most comfortable in here.

“Supe Archer, Millie, although I appreciate the gestures, I’m not new here. When the boss starts treating the workers, there’s a reason, good or bad, but this one seems like they’re going away gestures. Are you leaving us?” My heart triple times in my chest even thinking about her not being here.

“No, at the moment, I have no plans to leave Black Timber Peak.” She backs so her hands are clasping the edge of her desk. “It’s just personal.”

I caught the “at the moment” clarifier on the beginning of that.

“What moment would make it necessary for you to leave?”

“I promise, you’ll be the first to know, if that ever becomes a necessity.”

“Why me first?” My back straightens. That seems like she knows that I’d be upset or maybe she would, too.

Her head tips. “Because you’re being promoted to Assistant Superintendent, next in charge.”

My mouth drops open. I’d applied for the job months ago, but I figured they decided not to promote me. I was happy where I was and although I’d kinda completed the application on a dare, the fact that it was coming true…

I shook my head. “No. I decline.”

“You can’t.”

“Yes, I can.”

“Why?”

“Have you told anyone else?”

“Just Cole.”

I run a hand through my short-shorn curly strands. They look better when they’re longer, but for safety, I keep it close. “Then un-tell him.”

“Un-tell? What’s that mean?”

“You know, take it back…” my chest starts to rise and fall quickly.

“Hey, hey, Rusty,” she says as she pulls me in and directs me into a chair in front of her desk. She closes her door and then rolls a stool from the corner over to me.

My breaths roll quickly. I’ve never been like this. Never felt this tightness through my whole body. Not even when facing monster fires. Not even when being charged by three black bears trying to escape the fires. Not even when…

Dad.

He was a Supe when he died. He’d just been promoted and it was his last time out as a squad leader. And probably why I’ve never wanted to be promoted.

“My dad, he took the promotion and then he died,” I say leaning back in the chair and closing my eyes.

The pain of losing someone never leaves.

And that I was the last person to hear his voice, calling from the SAT phone to the house and telling me to take care of my mother and he loved us.

I think I pushed it to the back of my mind.

Her soft hand slips into mine. Her voice is silky and soft. “I didn’t know. I should’ve come to you first, but I thought you would be happy. I’m sorry, Rusty.” She gives a squeeze and I open my eyes.

“You really think that I’d be good at it?” I ask.

She leans forward, her blue eyes holding to mine. “I wouldn’t have gone to bat for you, if I didn’t. Not everyone gets to jump three steps in the ladder, Phoenix, but you deserve it.”

“Thanks.” I take a deep breath. “I’ve never freaked out like that.” I lean a little closer to her, our bodies creating a bubble.

“Well, I have lots of experience with freak-outs, so I could see the impending doom.”

I chuckle. “You’re not going to report it?”

She smiles, soft and gentle. “Nah, it was a one-time thing, and I know why. Rusty, what happened to your dad wasn’t fair and it wasn’t common, thankfully.

But you know that those guys out there will do everything in their power to make it that no one experiences what you did as a young man.

Your fears are authentic, but they’re not going to be repeated. ”

“Thanks for all of the congratulations treats.” I lean in closer but she doesn’t move. Our foreheads are a nickel’s width from touching.

Something slickens in my chest, almost like my heart is wanting to reach out to her. I close half the distance and now our breaths mingle. Her eyes fall closed.

“Millie, please, I want to?—”

She slides back, dropping my hand in the process.

I miss the connection like a phone call dropped in the middle of an important conversation.

Her absence emotionally stings more than I anticipated, a sharp reminder of the space between us that seems to expand with each second.

She opens her eyes, a mixture of uncertainty and something deeper flickering within their depths.

It’s a hurt that calls to me, urging me to bridge that gap once more.

“I can’t,” she whispers, her voice barely above a sigh, as if saying it aloud might shatter the fragile intimacy that lingers in the air. It hangs between us, thick and heavy with unspoken words that have been so close to threatening a boil over.

My pulse quickens, each beat echoing the truth I’ve been too afraid to express. “Millie, I need you to know that?—”

“Please,” she cuts me off, urgency tinged with sadness in her tone. “You don’t understand. It’s just not that simple. I can’t.”

The walls she’s built around herself, intricate and fortified against any emotion that threatens to seep through, grow a little taller.

I want to dismantle them, one brick at a time, yet there’s a futility in any effort.

The fragile threads of hope weave through my heart, but the weight of her hesitation and denial rip them back out again.

She stands. “You’re welcome for the treats. Now, you better get out there and enjoy.” Her phone buzzes and when she glances to the screen, her mouth drops open and the phone clanks to the desk.

“Everything okay?”

“Ummm… yeah. Go on… get some food.” The words are all stunted and feel like her brain is processing something else. She doesn’t look at me again.

I start to open my mouth to ask more questions, but she stands and rounds her desk, that professionalism returning full-force.

It's not just fires I want to fight. It’s the fears and worries that are inside of her.

If only she knew that even in the flames, I’d stand beside her.