Page 52 of Stuck With the Smokejumper

There's no wall of frantic messages waiting for me, no dozen unanswered texts stacking up in a panic. Just a handful, spaced over three days, the way someone sends messages when they understand the person on the other end can't necessarily answer.

A photo first. Cassidy, arms raised in triumph, pie filling smeared halfway to her ears. Beside her, Nolan looks like a man who has just been handed some very bad news.

Cassidy destroyed Nolan in the pie-eating contest, the message says. He's currently questioning all his life choices.

I laugh out loud, hard enough Reid glances over from the driver's seat.

“What?”

“Cassidy, apparently, is a competitive eater.”

Before I can type anything back, my own message from a few days ago finally goes through, the one I sent right before we lost service.

Heading to another division. Sounds like service is bad out there. Don't worry if you don't hear from me for a couple days. I'll call when I can.

Ivy's reply comes quickly.

This would have been helpful three days ago.

Apparently my phone would like you to know I'm going somewhere without service.

Very helpful.

Timing isn't its strength.

I can practically hear her laughing through the screen, which isn't good enough. I call her instead.

She picks up on the second ring. “Hi,” she says, and I have to take a breath before I answer, days of smoke and exhaustion and worry about what she must have been thinking all draining out of me at once.

“Hi yourself.”

“You're alive.”

“Mostly.”

“Thank you for trying to warn me.”

“I tried. The universe had other plans.”

“Russ got an update late yesterday.”

I wince, doing the math. “So it was two days before you knew what was going on?”

“Yeah.”

“I'm sorry.”

“It’s okay. I know how this works.” A pause, quieter. “I still didn't love it.”

“I didn't either.”

Neither of us says anything for a moment. She understands what happened. I understand what it cost her.

“Tell me about the Fourth,” I say. “You went to Silver Creek?”

“We did. It was good. Church booths, way too much food, Nolan trying to personally support every heritage represented in western Montana.”

“How'd that go for him?”