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Barrett huffed. His breath puffed out in a cloud, the frosty air cut with a motion from his hand. “See this? Add in the sudden shift in wind and barometric pressure. There’s a storm moving in. And it wouldn’t be wise to fuck around in that even with two good ankles.” He reached for the radio in his jacket, leather of his gloves squeaking as he gripped the comically small device. “Radio 4, this is Bear. Is there anyone available to bring a truck down to the Logger trail where it crosses Seesaw? We’ve got another bridge out and I’ve got an injured civilian.”
Ambrose watched, fascinated, as his broad, hairy neighbor changed in that instant to someone who practically rippled with authority. Even theBearhad sounded clipped and business-like. The radio was snarled with static as someone on the other end said, “Bear, we got two more bridge collapses, only minor injuries. Afraid I don’t have anyone to spare. Where are you?”
Barrett frowned and gave the dispatcher their location. “You’ve got a storm moving in and you’re too far from the public parking lots. Alpha FL is just over the ridge. It’ll be all supplied up and have a dedicated line we can call you on when we can get someone out there.”
“Done. Update Truck 3 and Jacques on my location?”
“You got it. Hurry your ass, Barrett.”
“Love you too, Marge.”
The woman chuckled then the radio snapped off with an audible click. “Can you walk?” Barrett’s hands were on his shoulders now, warm and broad and the sensation nearly made him stumble again.
“How far?” Ambrose winced as he tried to put his foot down once more.
“About a quarter of a mile.” Something flashed over Barrett’s face. “Okay, you gotta forgive me for this.”
And Ambrose was scooped off his feet and into Barrett’s arms, his legs dangling over Barrett’s right arm. “Wha - whoa!” He had to hook his left arm around a thick neck for balance but Barrett didn’t seem to mind.
The bastard just laughed. “Sorry. You’re tall but, as I thought, a lightweight.”
His ego bristled but his rage sputtered when he saw the way Barrett’s eyes were glittering at him. Daring him. “I don’t see that I have a choice.”
“You don’t.”
Feeling strangely light, Ambrose waved a hand and Barrett began walking.
The journey was slow and bumpy but quiet. He could get over the sensation of being carried like a child and the slow sloughing of Barrett’s steps as the snow grew deeper. He even got wrapped up in howwarmthe other man was; it was tempting to curl up on his chest and sleep.
Until Barrett said, “There should be medical supplies and some food and water in the FL.” Ambrose blinked at him. “Fire lookout. It’s one of the nicer ones. I think Meredith was in that one for the summer.”
“Hope she brought some books with her.”
“I think she was writing one.”
He had to nod at that. “I wrote my first book and my first real songs during a lookout summer.”
“Wait, what?”
“Yeah.” Ambrose smiled. “I spent my summer between sophomore and junior year in college in the fire tower near Port Blythe. It paid, it got me out of the house, and it was so damn quiet that I got a lot done.”
“Sounds like it. All thatwriting.”
Was Barrett….teasing him?
But the thought was dashed as Barrett said, “Up ahead. We’ll get you seen to.”
It was only then Ambrose remembered his throbbing ankle.
“That’s a lot of stairs.”
Chuckling, Barrett steadied Ambrose by tightening his grip on the man’s shoulders. They were surprisingly muscular under his layers, though he wasn’t sure why he was shocked. Granted, he hadn’t spent a bunch of time analyzing his neighbor’s physique. They saw so little of each other and it wasn’t usually for longer than a wave or a quick “Hello, how are you, thanks for the fish” kind of thing. Barrett had thought about inviting the man over for a drink or sharing some stew by the fire, but he’d always dashed those thoughts away as no more than missing Perry and their bond.
He andPerryhad shared bourbon and venison stew by Barrett’s big hearth. He andPerryhad swapped stories and bullshit and played cards. Ambrose wasn’t Perry. But Ambrose was here, now, and injured. He needed someone to help him, even if the man grouched about it the whole time. Barrett had almost laughed when Ambrose batted at him like a child and grunted, “Put me down” when they approached the fire tower.
“You said you’d been in an FL before,” Barrett countered. Ambrose’s frown was worth his little jab.
Ambrose’s grip on Barrett’s arm was tight as he said, “Well, it was only four stories. How fucking high is this thing?”
