Feel the Fire (Hotshots) Read online

  Nothing. That was all he could do, so he managed a nod without meeting Luis’s eyes.

  “Good, good.” Fred continued talking, explaining the office management structure to Luis and asking about his drive up from the LA area, but Tucker’s ears were ringing too loud to register Luis’s answers. Luis was here, invading the office Tucker had worked out of a good decade plus now, never a problem. Now here Luis was after all these years, looking all grown up and pissed off and way, way too good to ignore. He might not be the same boy anymore, but he was a man, and that was possibly more devastating to Tucker’s sanity.

  Tucker had spent almost two decades working around wildfires, first on a line crew, then engine and hotshot outfits, paying his dues before moving into fire management. He’d worked hard on his reputation for being unflappable under pressure. No one wanted a burn boss who startled easily or who couldn’t keep his temper. And after all that time on the front lines of fires, not much scared him anymore. Except maybe Luis and the prospect of needing to work alongside him and pretend that they hadn’t once been everything to each other. And more to the point, Luis had every reason in the world to still be pissed at him, even after all this time. Tucker couldn’t expect him to simply forgive and forget any more than he himself could.

  As Fred talked, Luis kept glancing over at Tucker, mouth still twisting like he couldn’t believe his rotten luck. Or maybe like he was expecting to wake up any minute from this bad dream. Lord knew Tucker felt the same way. Wake up, damn it. He had plenty of other stuff to worry about this summer more than Luis’s sudden reappearance.

  “So Tucker can show you around the office, introduce you to our support staff, show you where we keep the coffee.” Not even looking at Tucker, Fred nodded like this was a done deal. “He’ll bring you up to speed on our various projects. This is undoubtedly a smaller operation than you’re used to, but we’re family here. Everyone pitches in, and we get the job done, one way or another. You’ll see. I’ve got a good feeling you’re going to fit right in.”

  Tucker had the exact opposite feeling. And family or no, he wasn’t exactly eager for their past to become office gossip. These were his work colleagues, people he’d do anything for on a professional level, although personally, he’d always kept to himself and he’d like to keep it that way.

  But it wasn’t like he could argue with Fred or volunteer someone else—that would only raise suspicion, start that gossip mill chattering. No, he’d have to face this head-on.

  “Yup. I can do that.” There. He sounded normal. Distant yet helpful even.

  “I appreciate it.” Luis spoke more to Fred than him, not bothering to glance Tucker’s way until they were in the hall. Together. Alone.

  Forget all his usual cool resolve. This was fucking terrifying. Every cell in his body took notice of Luis’s nearness in the narrow space, the way he smelled like an unfamiliar spicy and citrusy aftershave, the way he was too big, nothing at all like Tucker’s memories, tall enough now to glower down at Tucker.

  “What the hell, Tucker?” Luis’s voice was low, but the fury there was unmistakable. Yup. Two decades might have passed since they’d last locked eyes, but he was still angry.

  Before he could reply, Christine came bustling down the hallway with a cheery “It’s Selma’s birthday today! There’s cake in the break room. Make sure the new guy gets a piece.”

  “Sure thing.” Tucker managed a nod her direction before she disappeared into the copy room right next to where they were standing. Goodbye chances of a long conversation he undoubtedly needed to have with Luis. What he wanted to say wasn’t going to happen with an audience. Instead he took a deep breath and forced a hearty tone. “Let’s start your tour there, then. Get you some coffee and cake. Follow me.”

  Luis’s eyes narrowed like that was the very last thing he’d like to do. He opened and closed his mouth a few times while he darted his eyes to the copy room, posture tense until finally he exhaled.

  “Fine. Lead the way.” His tone was every bit as fake as Tucker’s.

  Damn. This was going to be a long-ass day of pretending things were fine. Wait. Long-ass weeks. Luis was here for weeks. And that meant at some point they would have to talk. It was inevitable really, and Tucker was already dreading it with his entire being. Hell, he’d live through the twins’ colicky phase again if it meant avoiding having it out with Luis. But one glance at Luis’s stiff shoulders and tight mouth told him no amount of bargaining with the universe would save him from Luis’s barely controlled anger. Weeks. It was going to be weeks, and he might not survive.

  Chapter Two

  “Where’s this coffee you promised?” There was plenty else Luis wanted to say to Tucker, but they’d passed several other coworkers on the walk to the break room alone, and now here they were standing, staring at each other again while some women chatted at a table and two older men helped themselves to the large white sheet cake on the table at the rear of the room.

  “Over here.” Tucker led the way to a large industrial pot, same brand and size as Luis’s office back in California. Probably same low-quality coffee, but his French press and bag of small-batch dark roast coffee was still in the car, waiting for him to be assigned a desk. Preferably far, far away from wherever Tucker’s working space was.

  “Thanks.” He accepted the ceramic mug Tucker handed him, a dark green number with a smiling elk in a hunter’s cap and plaid shirt on it. Powdered creamer had zero appeal, so he resigned himself to drinking the weak brew black.

  “No sugar?” Tucker raised an eyebrow, like he knew anything about Luis and his dietary preferences these days. Oh, he still had a sweet tooth, but he was way more sane about it than he’d been at fifteen making weird soda combos at the convenience store. A lot of that had to do with losing his dad, but he wasn’t about to get that personal with Tucker.

  “Nope.” He might be coming off as rather curt, but he couldn’t seem to chase the anger from his tone. It wasn’t really anger at Tucker though. He’d made his peace with the past years ago, but this tension was more of the same frustration he’d had ever since Rosalind handed him this assignment. He didn’t want to deal with old hurts and old memories and old guilt, didn’t want to have to interact with Tucker, and was mainly mad at himself for how much he was letting all this affect him.

  “Ah.” After pouring himself a cup, Tucker doctored it up with plenty of creamer and sweetener. Maybe some things didn’t change, even if it seemed like damn near everything else had. Tucker at sixteen had had a habit of helping himself to the dregs in his parents’ coffeepot, but more milk than coffee in his cup. He’d been a flagpole—tall and skinny with a long neck and lots of brown hair. He’d played running back on the football team that year, and it was entirely possible his gear had weighed more than him. And he’d been more cute than hot—pale skin, freckles across his nose, earnest eyes.

  This Tucker, the one in front of him, was ruggedly handsome with a chiseled face that had clearly spent time in the sun as squint lines had started to form around his eyes. Broad shoulders and biceps more suited for tackling than darting between defenders like he’d made a name for himself doing. And most startling, he was actually shorter than Luis. Only an inch or two, but still this was the kid who’d come into his height early while Luis had waited patiently for his growth spurt to finally arrive.

  “So...about that tour?” There was only so long Luis could stand in one place, trying to dodge bullets of old memories along with the disconcerting present knowledge of how damn attractive Tucker had turned out to be.

  “Right.” Tucker blinked like he too had been deep in memory land. “I take it you’re going to skip the cake for now?”

  “Yeah.” Luis didn’t want to be rude, but cake this early in the morning was far from appetizing to him, especially since he’d skipped having an actual breakfast. He’d been too worried about making sure Blaze was settled and then finding t
he forest service office.

  As he gave Luis a tour of the one-story building, Tucker pointed out water coolers and supply closets and introduced the reception and administrative support staff as they made their way through the office, which was a mix of open workspaces, cubes, and narrow hallways leading to small offices and conference rooms.

  “This the new guy?” A guy with a broad build and biceps even bigger than Tucker’s, who was in a wheelchair, stopped them as they passed his cube. His hearty smile and easy demeanor said he was happy for the interruption.

  “Garrick, this is Luis Rivera. He’s from the Angeles Forest region. He’s a fire behavior specialist.” Tucker made the introductions as handshakes were exchanged. “Luis, Garrick is one of our more experienced dispatchers. Former smoke jumper. He’s gonna be a hell of a burn boss soon. Been working his way into more management and oversight this year.”

  Tucker’s tone had a defiant edge, an underlying message that they didn’t truly need Luis and his expertise. Whatever. Luis wasn’t going to stand in the way of Tucker’s friend advancing in the ranks, but he also wasn’t here for petty power struggles either. He was damn good at what he did, and they’d summoned him for a reason.

  “That’s great.” Luis kept his own voice professional. Garrick looked vaguely familiar, like perhaps he’d seen him around here when younger. He had a fun collection of little fidgets on his desk—springs and finger puzzles and a hand-knit bear with lopsided ears. And interestingly, Garrick had a pic of himself with a long-haired hippie sort of guy near his computer monitor.

  Hardly definitive proof that Garrick wasn’t straight, but it sure as hell would be nice if Luis wasn’t the only openly rainbow-flag-waving person in the office. Unexpected around here, that was for sure. He was used to being quieter in these rural offices, not going back in a closet but still toning it down, so finding allies and other LGBTQ folks was always very welcome. And he probably wasn’t going to be able to count on Tucker for either of those things. He had no idea how Tucker identified these days, but he’d put money on that closet door being padlocked shut, no matter what he’d said all those years ago.

  “I...I think I’m gay.” It was the first time Luis had said the words aloud. Heck, he hadn’t even let himself write the words in his private notebooks. But the words had been pounding in his head, louder and louder, until now when alone with his best friend in the loft of the barn, he couldn’t keep them back anymore.

  “No kidding?” Tucker didn’t sound particularly shocked, which said that maybe Luis hadn’t done such a good job hiding it after all. He kicked at some straw, not looking at Luis, but not moving from his spot right next to him, hips and shoulders mere centimeters apart. The barn smelled musty, their whispers the only sound in the old structure.

  “Yeah. I mean... I’ve thought it for a long time now, but at Sam’s party last weekend, when Chelsea kissed me, I couldn’t wait for it to be over. I’m not sure what other guys feel when they look at girls, but for me...it’s not happening.”

  “Wow. I thought...” Tucker gulped in a breath and Luis’s heart galloped. He wasn’t sure he could stand it if his friend condemned him. “Thought I was the only one who felt like that.”

  Best. Feeling. Ever. Luis’s whole being soared. “Seriously? Katie told everyone you were a good kisser.”

  “She’s...nice. But kissing...” Tucker made a sour face. “Not sure what the big deal is.”

  “Maybe we’re not kissing the right people.” Luis leaned in, pulse pounding like he’d slammed half a case of Mountain Dew. Any second now, Tucker would pull away and the bubble would burst, but far from recoiling, Tucker scooted closer, denim-covered thigh rubbing against Luis’s, the most electric sensation he’d ever felt. Then their lips met, clumsy and unsure, noses bumping as they shifted around, trying to sort out how to do this. The glancing contact at first wasn’t that different from other kisses, but then Tucker gave a happy sigh, mouth parting, and a ball of energy gathered in Luis’s middle. He felt like a superhero coming into his powers, a strange new force taking over. Yeah. He was gay. That was for sure. No more maybe about it. And far from scary, it was nothing short of amazing because his best friend was right here with him, kissing him back.

  But apparently while the memory was etched on Luis’s soul, Tucker hadn’t had any such revelation, and he had either figured out the “big deal” about kissing women at some point or slammed the door shut on that part of himself, consigning himself to something less than the perfection they’d found in the barn loft that day. And whichever it was, Luis had no business caring.

  Indifference was tough to maintain, however, especially when Tucker finally moved on from Garrick and some small talk about who had been in which grade in school. He led Luis to a nearby office. It had a door with Tucker’s name on it, which spoke to his management role in the organizational hierarchy.

  “We can talk about your duties in here.” Tucker held the door open. He apparently rated a window—a high one, with a shelf of hardy plants in little pots. Scrubby cacti with two of the pots looking painted by a child’s hand. Figured that he was the kind of dad to display gifts like that. A large bookcase dominated the room, and a few more kid-centric mementos like a Lego structure and a lumpy clay something lurked along with the textbooks and manuals Luis would have expected. The wall held a diploma for a degree Luis hadn’t known he had, and next to it was one of those collage frames. And there they were. Little clones of Tucker. Babies and small boys and awkward tweens. He couldn’t tell whether it was the same two kids over time or if maybe it was a whole soccer team of miniature Tuckers.

  Not caring. Right. Without intending to, he coughed, still unable to look away, and that was enough to draw Tucker’s attention as he shut the door.

  “That’s Walker and Wade. I need to get some more recent pics in here. Walker’s always on me to stop showing off baby pictures whenever he stops by.”

  “Uh-huh.” He managed a noncommittal sound, but something of his unease must have shown on his face because Tucker frowned.

  “Damn it, Luis. Am I supposed to pretend that they don’t exist? How precisely would you like me to play this?”

  “Not sure,” Luis admitted. Then the question that had been searing his brain all morning finally escaped. “How’s the wife?”

  * * *

  A strangled sound echoed in his small office, and it took Tucker a moment to realize that it came from himself.

  “Wife?” He blinked. This was one of those inevitable conversations, but he still was far from ready for it.

  “You know, Heidi, that sweet thing you ran off with when you weren’t even old enough to buy booze yet? Are Walker and Wade the only two mini-Tuckers?” Luis’s gaze was still on the collage of the twins through the years, God knew what running through his mind. Couldn’t be jealousy, not after all these years. Condemnation maybe, censure that he’d waited almost two decades to dole out.

  Hell, he hadn’t even ever replied to Tucker’s message attempting to explain what had happened. Not that he’d entirely understood it himself, but he’d tried. And all he got back was silence. So, Tucker had been forced to imagine his judgment, picture his reactions. Had he yelled? Punched something? Not cared enough for anger?

  Tucker might never know his initial response, but this sarcasm was pretty good proof that it hadn’t been positive. And Luis not knowing anything about who Tucker was now was also evidence that he hadn’t been social-media stalking him, wasn’t interested enough to go snooping. Not that Tucker had done that either—he hadn’t wanted to know, hadn’t wanted to see grown-up Luis with a life of his own. Seeing him frequently in his dreams was bad enough.

  “We divorced. About seven years ago now.” He kept his response brief because no way was Luis entitled to the whole story.

  “My...condolences?” Luis’s mouth quirked, like he was unsure of the polite response. And that was okay. That
made two of them.

  “Thanks.” Tucker gave the same response he’d handed out over and over back then when well-meaning people had crawled out of the baseboards to express sorrow. “And yes, we only had the twins. We split custody, and while I’m not one to overshare at work, I’m not about to deny the presence of the two most important people in my life simply to make you more comfortable.”

  “I’m not asking you to.” Feet shuffling restlessly, Luis looked more ready to stage a fast getaway than to continue this conversation.

  “Sit.” Tucker pointed at the visitor’s chair near his desk. “Let’s admit neither of us really knows who the other is right now. And that’s fine. No one’s demanding we forgive and forget.”

  Luis muttered under his breath, something about hard to forget, but then settled into the chair, leaving Tucker to seek out his own office chair behind his L-shaped desk.

  “If it helps, you’re not the only one with some... baggage.” Damn it. He was not going to unpack everything that stood between them, all the years and hurts and wrong assumptions, not now. His heart pinched, memories of those last few tense conversations, ultimatums and arguments making his chest muscles go tight.

  “Fair enough.” Clenching and unclenching his hands, Luis stretched before nodding. Clearly, he was as uncomfortable as Tucker, but they had to find a way forward.

  “But here we are. We’re not stupid teens any longer, thank God. And I’ve been in this office too many damn years to let any personal issues interfere with my work. We simply need to focus on the job at hand.”

  “Agreed. I’m still shocked your family let you off the ranch, though. Seeing you here...working together...that I didn’t see coming.”

  “That makes two of us. Figured you’d end up going Hollywood, not wildfire chasing.”