Page 41 of Stuck With the Smokejumper

“I know. I've seen you eating them straight out of the jar in the fridge. Like a raccoon.”

He laughs, and I steal one of his fries.

I like these lulls because it means I can just ask things. Things that don't come up on a trail crew or in the middle of a card game with six other people listening.“You've got a brother, right?” I ask. “Or did I make that up?”

“You didn't make it up. Older, Air Force, like our dad. Two younger sisters, twins, twenty-four now. One of them lives in Denver, so I see her more than the other two.”

“And the other twin?”

“Nashville. No idea how they ended up that different. They used to be inseparable.”

“What about your parents?”

“Colorado Springs, since Dad retired. There's usually a decent chance I can swing through and see somebody in the winter, depending on where I end up working.”

“That sounds nice. Having a home base like that, even if you're not always there.”

“Never really thought of it that way.” He considers it for a second, like he's turning the idea over for the first time. “But yeah. I guess it is.”

After lunch, we still don't head to the store right away. We walk hand-in-hand the two blocks of actual downtown, looking at the storefronts.

“Ice cream?” Beck asks, nodding toward the shop on the corner.

“Only because you asked so nicely.”

We sit on a bench outside eating the ice cream while it melts faster than either of us can manage. I watch him lick a drip off his hand with the same total lack of self-consciousness he brings to most things, and I think, not for the first time, I like him considerably more than I planned to when this summer started.

Eventually we make it to Mercer's, and the grocery run goes fast now that we're not distracting each other with pickles and family history. Beck earns his keep on the top shelf, same as before.

“Top shelf. You're up.”

He takes down a box of pasta without effort. “Is this why you brought me? Free labor?”

“One of the reasons.”

“What are the others?”

I don't answer. I just reach up, kiss him quickly on the mouth, and grab the next item on the list while he's still catching up, blinking like he's trying to figure out what just happened.

People greet me the whole way through, same as always. Marlene asks about the crew. Mrs. Caldwell wants to know how Reid's doing, which makes Beck smile, since he's learned by now half of Timber Creek considers my brother a minor local celebrity.

At checkout, Marlene mentions her nephew works dispatch over near Cedar Ridge and says things have been busy lately. Multiple new starts. Dry conditions everywhere. Crews starting to get stretched thin.

“You been staying busy here?” she asks.

“Quiet since that lightning fire,” I say.

“Good. Hope it stays that way.” She hands over the receipt like the conversation was never anything more than small talk, because for her, it probably wasn't.

We're loading bags into the truck when someone calls Beck's name from across the lot. A guy about Beck's age, sunburned, wearing a faded fire crew shirt from somewhere I don't recognize. He jogs over with his hand extended.

“Beck Hale. No way.”

Beck squints at him for a second, like he's paging back through a long list of fire assignments, before it clicks. “Tate. Been a while.”

“Two years, at least.” Tate glances at me, then back at Beck. “You working around here now?”

“Temporary reassignment. Blackpine.”