Page 16 of Bronx

We continued walking, reached the corner of my small street and turned right toward the park. "I figured since you live an entire country away, a life very separate from mine now, I could confess. I felt a connection with you almost the second we met, out there on that island."

"Me too," she said so softly I wasn't entirely sure I heard it.

We walked in silence to the pathway leading into the park. A massive jacaranda tree sprouted up between a set of picnic benches. It provided some spotty shade, a respite, weak as it was, from the late summer sun. We headed for the picnic tables and sat down, across from each other.

The short walk had made her skin even more golden. The summer sun had bleached some of the dark gold strands of her hair pale. One of those light strands blew across her cheek. The end of it tickled the edge of her mouth before she pushed it away.

"Jack," she said again. It struck me how much I enjoyed hearing her say my name. "I'm not leaving. I'm staying here. I just got a job at the Valley Community Hospital. A year ago, it was the right thing for me to do. I needed to sell the house and break away from family and friends. It helped me find myself again. Adam and I got married so young. I never experienced even an ounce of independence. He was the only boyfriend I ever had. Moving across the country helped me gain some sense of self. I was no longer Adam Rafferty's wife. I was Layla Rafferty. I was on my own. It was hard as hell at first, then I found my bearings."

I was processing all of it in stunned silence. Layla was not moving thousands of miles away. She was staying here. But what did that mean for us? Bulldozer was gone, but it would be seen as a terrible betrayal if I started seeing Layla. It was almost more impossible to consider it now that he was gone.

A faint smile crinkled the little lines on the side of her mouth. "Say something, Jack. I'm sort of laying myself bare right now."

"I'm glad you're staying, Layla. I'm glad you've found your bearings. Like you said, you and Bulldozer got married young. You never had a chance to date or sample different flavors, as they say."

She laughed. "Do they say that? Really?"

I laughed too. "Nope, just thought it sounded poetic."

"Not sure if you'll make poet laureate anytime soon." She reached over and took hold of my hand. It caught me off guard, but I instantly squeezed her hand. I wanted to hold it and never let go.

"You're going to be here," I said, before finding the courage to look directly at her. "Near me. But we're still going to have this distant, guarded relationship. Bulldozer's gone but then he's really not, is he? A guy like him, he had such a huge presence. He'll always be here." I badly wanted her to contradict me and say everything would be fine and we could start being more than just friends sending off an occasional email. But that contradiction didn't come.

"Like you said, he's still here in a sense," she said after a pause. "I'm moving on with my life, but I'm taking little steps forward. Settling back in town and the new job are going to get me on the right path. The one person who I want to help me move forward is you." A spark of hope shot through me until I noticed her expression. "Only, because of who you are, and what you do, and who you work with, it's impossible. I don't want to complicate your life, and that's what would happen."

I nodded. "As badly as I want to say fuck it, fuck everyone who thinks this would be their business, I know you're right."

A van pulled into the parking area, the doors slid open and a half dozen kids jumped out with their scooters, skates and volleyballs.

Layla smiled. "I think that's our cue to go."

We stood up from the table. Without thinking, I took hold of her hand and pulled her gently toward me. She didn't resist in the slightest. It might have been better if she had, then I would have released her rather than gaze right into her eyes and think about how badly I wanted to kiss her. She peered up at me. Her lips parted slightly, inviting me, begging me, it seemed. But how could I stop? Once my mouth was on hers, how could I stop when I'd wanted her so badly and for so long.

Her posture softened slightly when I stepped back. I couldn't be sure if it was out of disappointment that I didn't kiss her, but that was what I was going to tell myself. Especially considering my whole fucking body ached in disappointment from it. Reluctantly, I released her hand, and we started back toward my street.

"Just for the record," Layla said as we turned the corner. "This whole thing sucks."

"Couldn't agree more."

13

Two months later

"All right guys, let's get those bets in," Kaos said as he pulled out the small ledger he carried in a secret pocket on his backpack. "I know that guy Alex is skinny and his pack probably outweighs him by ten pounds but he's wiry. Wiry can get the job done." Kaos wriggled his massive body as if there was even the slightest chance that he could be considered wiry. King and I laughed at his attempt.

"The only way you could be called wiry, you massive, overgrown beast is if you were actually wrapped in wire," I said as I pulled the shade tent out of the truck. Fall physical training camp was coming to an end. We were at the place in the training where we weeded out the people who just weren't going to make a spot on the team. It was always a little hard having to tell someone, after six grueling weeks that they didn't make the cut. We'd already lost four in the past month, people who were sure they had what it took until they actually had to prove it. "My money is on Weston Novak." I pulled out a twenty and tossed it to Kaos.

"Shit, that was who I was going to pick," King complained. "I mean his dad was James Novak, most famous smokejumper in the west. The kid tries so hard to please, it's almost cute. He'll do that one and a half miles in ten minutes even if he has to drag his body over the line. I want Weston. Let's flip for it."

"Too bad. Already made my choice," I teased. "BesidesBuckyis still in the running." Bucky was a twenty-three-year-old who'd spent most of his training talking about how much better he could do things, but there was always an excuse—too hot, too windy, muscle cramps. Still, the guy made it through training so far, and he had a good shot of running the rough, rocky one and a half miles with a hundred pound pack in under eleven. That was the bar. If you couldn't get back before the eleven minute timer you were as good as through.

"Yeah, I'd rather pick what's his name—Newton—the guy with all the data in his head. At least he won't be able to talk everyone's head off with his knowledge on the trail. Maybe I should pick him," King conceded. "He had the fastest time in the sprints we were doing last week." He tossed his money at Kaos. "Never mind. Put me down for Bucky." There were eight people taking the trail test this morning, but only four truly seemed they would have a chance of finishing in time. Our bet was for the first place runner. I had it in the bag with Novak. He was out here trying to prove to his dad that he could excel at the job. That was usually motive enough to get someone over the finish line.

Somehow, King and I had pulled the proverbial short straws. We were running the trail with them, but our load was considerably lighter, just water and a satellite phone. King was going to lead them through the unmarked terrain, and I was bringing up the rear of the pack to make sure no one got sick, overheated or lost. Kaos would wait at the end to record their time and assist anyone who needed it.

The trees had already started to leave their fall coats so shade was at a minimum. The sun didn't seem to care that it was autumn. Every strand of light coming through the thinning canopy was intense and hot.

"Make sure you stay hydrated," King told the group. "We don't want to have to carry anyone out of there. In fact, if you pass out, we might just bury you where you fall," he teased.

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