Page 15 of The Blaze Between Us

"He was," I confirm, "Career military, tough as nails, but never missed a Little League game."

"That explains a lot about you," she observes with a small smile.

"Oh? How so?"

She gestures vaguely in my direction. "The whole dependable, responsible, outdoorsy vibe. It's clearly generational."

I can't help but chuckle at her assessment. "I'll take that as a compliment."

"It was meant as one." Her cheeks color slightly, and she quickly changes the subject. "What was Cedar Falls like when you were growing up? Has it changed much?"

"Some things have changed," I say, leaning back against the wooden wall of the shelter. "Downtown's more tourist-oriented now. When I was a kid, it was all practical businesses—hardware store, pharmacy, general market. Now it's boutiques and artisanal coffee shops."

"The inevitable march of gentrification," she comments. "Even in mountain towns."

"Exactly. But the bones of the place are the same. Same families have been here for generations. Same community spirit." I think about how the entire town rallied around Ellie and me after Claire died. "People still show up when it matters."

Tasha looks thoughtful. "That must be nice. Chicago neighborhoods don't exactly function that way."

"No block parties in the big city?" I tease.

"Oh, we have events," she clarifies, "but it's not the same as knowing your neighbors would actually notice if you didn't show up somewhere. In my apartment building, I couldn't tell you the names of anyone living on my floor."

The contrast between our experiences strikes me as both sad and typical of modern life. "Cedar Falls will probably feel suffocating after a while, then."

"Actually, it's refreshing," she admits. "The first day I was here, three different people said hello to me on the street. Complete strangers. I thought they were trying to sell me something."

I laugh at the genuine bewilderment in her voice. "Small town hospitality. It comes standard with the mountain views."

Another crack of thunder, so loud it seems to shake our small structure, interrupts the conversation. Tasha jumps slightly, her eyes widening.

"Mother Nature's really putting on a show today," I comment, trying to normalize the storm's intensity.

"Does it always get this dramatic up here?"

"Summer storms can be theatrical," I confirm. "Quick to form, quick to pass—usually. This one's being stubborn."

Tasha glances nervously at the sheets of rain visible through the open side of the shelter. "I'm starting to think we might be spending the night here."

The casual mention of spending the night together, however innocently meant, sends my mind to places it absolutely should not go. I clear my throat, shifting on the bench.

"It won't come to that," I assure her, my voice perhaps a touch too brusque. "These systems typically move through within a couple of hours."

I reach for the radio clipped to my belt—standard equipment for any fire department personnel venturing into remote areas.

"I should check in with the station," I explain, unhooking the radio. "Let them know our situation."

Tasha watches with interest as I adjust the frequency and press the talk button.

"Cedar Falls Fire Department, this is Chief Brock, over." The radio crackles with static before a response comes through.

"Chief, this is Lewis. Reading you five-by-five. Go ahead."

"Just reporting our status. I'm at the Cascade Falls trail shelter with Ellie's friend from Chicago. We've been caught in the storm and are waiting it out. All safe, just delayed. Over."

"Copy that, Chief. Want us to send someone up if you're not back by a certain time? Over."

I glance at my watch, making a quick calculation. "If you don't hear from me by 1700 hours, send Max with the ATV. Trail's going to be a mess. Over."

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