Page 106 of Knot What I Expected

We’ve been widening the break for hours, stripping the ground down wherever possible, cutting brush, clearing deadfall, and attacking hot spots before the fire can crawl through the fuel and get around us.

Justin is somewhere north of me.

I can smell the Dragon even through the smoke.

Wreck is south.

And me?

I’m standing in hell with a Pulaski in one hand, the blade covered in soot and ash from felling burned trees, soot up my ass, and one thought stuck in my head.

Gabriella Santos.

Gabby.

Fuck.

I haven't seen her all week. Not since the park. Not since she looked at me with those warm amber eyes and told me she couldn't play games.

Not since I told her I wasn't fucking playing.

Then this call came in. What should’ve been a manageable wildfire turned ugly when the weather shifted.

Dry fuels.

Steep terrain.

Wind.

The holy fucking trinity of fuck you when you’re trying to put out a mountain fire. And every time I get five goddamn minutes to think?

There she is.

Gabby.

Monster has been unbearable.

Mate.

“She’s not.”

Ours.

“She told us to fuck off.”

Scared.

“Yeah, well, smart woman.”

Monster growls.

I swing the Pulaski into the ground harder than necessary. The blade is merciless. Dirt and ash spray around my boots.

The fucked-up thing about my unhealthy obsession with a certain single mother?

I don't even know if she’s scared of me. I think Gabriella Santos is scared of something else. And I fucking hate that I don't know what.

I hate that she works herself half to death.