Page 108 of Falling for the Playboy Pilot

So why did I feel like I’d just blown up my own life?

I finished the beer and went inside for another one, Max trailing behind me like a furry shadow. I grabbed two beers because I had a feeling Max wouldn’t appreciate me getting up and down. As soon as I sat down, the cat was right back in my lap. Why in the hell did I care if the cat was comfortable?

“You know what the fucked-up part is?” I said to him. “Yeah, I know. I’m an idiot.” I scratched his head absently. “But what if I let her in and something happens to me? What if I don’t make it back from a fire someday? What if⁠—”

But even as I said it, I knew how hollow it sounded. Ozzy’s death had fucked me up, sure, but this wasn’t really about protecting Janna from losing me. This was about protecting myself from losing her.

You’re broken, I told myself, voice raw. Dust and ash, broken.

I downed the second beer and reached for the other one. I thought about sliding into hermit mode. I was looking forward to the end of the season when I could hole up at the cabin. I wouldn’t have to worry about seeing anyone or hurting anyone.

No attachments. No heartbreak. No anything.

Then I considered going after her. Apologize. Tell her the truth. I want you. I’m terrified. But I’d be more terrified without you.

But the risk had me rethinking that plan. What if she said no?

My thoughts twisted and turned. I ran through every possible scenario. If we got together and then she went back to Alaska at the end of the season. We got together and something happened to her or me and one of us was left grieving. We got together and broke up and I was left alone even after trying.

Or we never got together, and I had to look at her every day and know I couldn’t have her.

I fell asleep in the chair and woke to the sound of my phone ringing. It was way too early for a typical phone call. I was instantly on alert, pushing Max out of my lap.

“Dalton here,” I said.

“Gorge fire spread,” Chief said. “Wind changed—two flank fires heading toward town. Want you on Tanker One. We launch in twenty.”

Just like that, clarity cut through the fog.

“This is your chance,” I warned Max. “Do not fuck up or I will put you out.”

I grabbed my keys and headed to the airfield. I had a go bag in my truck. I fumbled around and grabbed my deodorant and put it on. I reached for the mouthwash, took a swig, swished it around, and spit it out the window.

If it was as bad as it sounded, a shower was a luxury I couldn’t afford.