Page 59 of Until We Come Home

“What are you talking about?” I ask, checking the latch on my bag. “I’m fine. I’m focused.”

“I’ve known you long enough to recognize when you’re carrying a heavy load,” he says firmly. “I don’t care if it’s Mia, or Derek, or whatever happened on that dock last night that has you two acting like strangers, but please just be careful. I hate seeing you head into a fire when you’re like this.”

“I’m not going to do anything stupid,” I say, turning the key in the ignition.

“Hey,” he says, and he isn’t smiling anymore. “I mean it. No reckless calls.”

“Got it, Calvin.” I look past him and spot Mia stepping around the side of the Jeep, coming up to the open window.

Calvin grips my shoulder, hard, and steps back as Mia takes his place. She looks up at me through the open window, her hazel eyes shimmering with a mix of fear and unspoken words.

“Mateo, I...” she starts, her voice catching.

“I’m sorry too,” I say quietly, cutting through the heavy silence before she can stumble. “We’ll talk about everything later. I really have to roll.”

She nods, and takes a reluctant step back from the tires. Everything I want to tell her stays locked up tight, a heavy, complicated mess I don’t have time to touch. I shift into gear, pull onto the road, and head toward the fire.

We roll out at noon in a line, five brush engines and Barnes’s command pickup, our rig at the back, east on the interstate and up toward the pass. As we climb higher into the mountains, the clear blue summer sky slowly dissolves into a thick, suffocating haze of heavy brown smoke.

By the time we reach the summit, the sun is reduced to a dull orange disc hovering uselessly in the murk. Descending the eastern slopes, the cab’s vents fill with the sharp, bitter stench of burning timber, while the opposite lanes are jammed with evacuees heading west.

My phone goes off in the console cup holder as we descend the mountain road.

Mia: I just caught the news broadcast. Mateo, it looks terrifying out there. Please, please promise me you’ll stay safe. Text me the second you get a breather tonight. I didn’t mean a single word of what I said last night, I hope you know that.

I look at the screen, my thumb hovering over the glass while my mind fights to draft a reply, but there’s too much heavy history sitting between us right now. I force myself to lock it away, shoving the personal mess aside so I can keep my focus where it needs to be for the fire line.

Callum leans over from the other side of the back seat, raising his voice over the engine. “That looks fucking bad, man.”

James is driving up front with Rebecca in the officer’s seat, both of them quiet, watching the smoke. Ollie is wedged in beside me, staring out his window at the line of cars going the other way.

I nudge his elbow with my shoulder. “Holding up alright, kid?”

He thinks about it. “Yeah. I used to watch footage of these wildland calls on TV growing up, and we drilled for it at the academy, but... actually rolling into it hits a lot different.”

The kid’s got good instincts. He’s still green, sure, but he gives every call everything he’s got, and I respect that. I lean back against the headrest, looking over at him.

“What made you want to become a firefighter?” I ask, keeping my tone casual. “If you don’t mind me asking.”

He half smiles, his eyes widening a bit as he looks back at me. “There was a house fire on my block when I was around ten. Everyone made it out fine, but it was really touch-and-go with the family and their pets. I remember watching the crew show up, taking control, helping everyone out of the smoke. I just remember thinking, I want to do that. I want to be the guy who can help.”

“That’s as solid a reason as any,” I say.

He glances at me sideways. “What about you? What made you take the oath?”

“My mom had a lot to do with it,” I tell him. “She’s an ER nurse in Boston—spent her whole life surrounded by chaos, helping people through the worst moments of their lives.”

“But you didn’t want the hospital route?” Ollie asks with a grin.

“I got zero bedside manner,” I say with a low laugh. “I wouldn't have survived my first week on a floor.”

“Zero is generous,” James calls out from the front, prompting a snort from Rebecca in the officer's seat.

“So what pointed you toward firefighting instead?” Ollie asks.

I turn it over for a second. “Never really looked at anything else. You know that Mr. Rogers quote? When he was a kid and something scary was on the news, his mom would tell him to look for the helpers, because there’s always somebody helping.”

“Yeah, I’ve heard that one,” Ollie says.