Chasing Fire

you were fixing breakfast. He thought I should know—No, she’s fine. They’re fine,” he said when her fingers jerked in his. “But the fire’s tougher and bigger than they thought. You get that,” he added with a shrug. “The thing that’s got me worried is it turns out they jumped with several pieces of defective equipment, tools.”
    “Aren’t those kind of things inspected and maintained? That shouldn’t happen.”
    “Yeah, they’re checked and tested. Ella, they think these tools may have been tampered with.”
    “You mean . . . Well, God, Lucas, no wonder you’re worried. What happens now?”
    “They’ll examine the equipment, investigate, review. L.B.’s already ordered a complete inspection of everything on base.”
    “That’s good, but it doesn’t help Rowan or the rest of them on the fire.”
    “When you’re on a fire, you’ve got to depend on yourself, your crew and, by God, on your equipment. It could’ve gone south on my girl.”
    “But she’s all right? You’re sure?”
    “Yeah. They worked nearly twenty-four hours before making camp. She’s getting some sleep now. They’ll hit it early today; they’ll have the light. They dropped them more equipment, and they’re sending in another load of jumpers, more hotshots. They’re sending in another tanker, and . . .” He trailed off, smiled a little, waved his hand. “Enough fire talk.”
    She shook her head. “No. You talk it through. I want you to be able to talk it through with me.”
    “What they had was your basic clusterfuck. Delays in calling in more men and equipment, erratic winds and a hundred percent active perimeter. Fire makes its own weather,” he continued, and pleased her when talking relaxed him enough to have him cutting into a crepe. “This one kicked up a storm, kept bumping the line—that means it spots and rolls, delays containment. Blowups, eighty-foot flames across the head.”
    “Oh, my God.”
    “She’s impressive,” he said, and amazed Ella by smiling.
    “You really do wish you were there.” She narrowed her eyes, pointed at him. “And not just for Rowan.”
    “I guess it never goes away, all the way away. Bottom line is they’ve made good progress. They’re going to have a hell of a day ahead of them, but they’ll have her crying uncle by tonight.”
    “You know what you should do—the next best thing to flying yourself to Alaska and jumping out over Rowan’s campsite? You should go on over to the base.”
    “They don’t need me over there.”
    “You may have retired, but you’re still Iron Man Tripp. I bet they could use your expertise and experience. And you’d feel closer to Rowan and to the action.”
    “We had plans for the day,” he reminded her.
    “Lucas, don’t you know me better by now?”
    He looked at her, then took her hand to his lips. “I guess I do. I guess you know me, too.”
    “I like to think so.”
    “I wonder how you’d feel . . . I’d like to ask if I could move in here with you. If I could live with you.”
    It took a minute for her brain to catch up. “You—you want to live together? Here?”
    “I know you’ve got everything you want here, and we’ve only been seeing each other a few months. Maybe you need to—”
    “Yes.”
    “Yes?”
    “I mean, I’ll have everything I want here when you are. So, yes, absolutely yes.” Delighted by his blank stare, she laughed. “How soon can you pack?”
    He let out a breath, then picked up the mimosa, drank deep. “I thought you’d say no, or that we should wait awhile more.”
    “Then you shouldn’t have asked. Now you’re stuck.”
    “Stuck with a beautiful woman who knows me and wants me around anyway. For the life of me, I can’t figure out what I did right.” He set the glass back down. “I did this backward because first I should’ve said—I should’ve said, I love you, Ella. I love you.”
    “Lucas.” She got up, went around the table to sit in his lap. Took his face in her hands. “I love you.” She kissed him, sinking in. “I’m so happy my son wanted me to jump out of a plane.” She sighed as she laid her cheek against his. “I’m so happy.”
     
     
    WHEN HE LEFT, she adjusted her plans for the day. She had to make room for a man. For her man. Closet space, drawer space. Space for manly things. The house she’d made completely her own would become a blend, picking up pieces of him, shades of him.
    It amazed her how much she wanted that, how very much she