The weight of her words settles over me, and I hate how much they’re true.
Hours pass in a blur of smoke, sweat, and shouting. My crew works tirelessly, but the fire keeps advancing. When theaerial reinforcements finally arrive, the relief is palpable, but exhaustion weighs heavy on all of us.
“The road’s blocked,” Hudson calls out, jogging over to me. “We’re not getting out tonight.”
I glance at the sky, darkening with the onset of night. The smoke clouds blot out the stars, leaving the world dim and eerie.
“There’s a cabin about a mile out,” I say. “We’ll head there for the night.”
“What about me?” Juniper pipes up, stepping closer.
“You’re coming with me,” I tell her firmly. “There’s a fire tower across the river. It’s safer and farther from the flames.”
Her eyes narrow. “Safer? But I could get some footage of the guys at the cabin–”
I grit my teeth, resisting the urge to snap. “It’s safer for you across the river. That’s all that matters.”
She studies me for a moment, then nods. “Fine. Lead the way.”
We walk through the forest, and I have to resist the urge to throw her over my shoulder every step of the way. When we reach the river, I do carry her as I make my way across the access bridge that crosses the rushing water.
The fire tower looms ahead, a skeletal structure silhouetted against the smoky horizon. By the time we reach it, my muscles ache, and my patience is wearing thin.
“Climb,” I instruct, gesturing to the metal ladder.
She eyes it warily. “Ladies first, what a gentleman.”
I snort, crossing my arms. “Not a chance. I’m just not letting you out of my sight.”
She mutters something under her breath but starts climbing, and I follow close behind, my eyes trained on her every move.
When we reach the top, the small cabin at the tower’s peak is a welcome sight. I shove the door open, stepping aside to let her in.
“Home sweet home,” she says, glancing around.
“It’s not supposed to be comfortable,” I reply, setting my gear down.
She raises an eyebrow. “Good thing I have such excellent company, then.”
I glare at her, but she just grins, sinking onto the narrow bench by the window.
The silence stretches between us, heavy and charged. Outside, the glow of the fire still paints the horizon, helicopters flying overhead now and again as they work to control the flames. Up here, it feels like we’re in our own little world.
“You don’t have to hover,” Juniper says, breaking the quiet.
“I’m not hovering,” I lie, pacing by the door.
“Yes, you are.” Her tone is teasing, but her gaze is steady. “Sit down, Flint. You’re making me nervous.”
I hesitate, then reluctantly drop onto the bench across from her.
“There. Was that so hard?” she asks, smirking.
I ignore her, staring out the window. “You shouldn’t have come out here.”
“And miss all the fun?”
I shoot her a look, but her grin doesn’t falter.
