Page 215 of Smoke and Fire
Why was I holding Dahlia responsible for all the other women in my life? She deserved a chance. More importantly, I wanted her to have that chance.
Wind buffeted us as Mark Bailey stepped out of the truck next to Dahlia and came directly over. He held out a hand to James, who accepted it.
"Thank you all," Mark said, "for watching for new fire starts. You’re my heroes."
"Lookin' good up here, Bailey." James let Mark's hand go. "We'll do our best to keep it safe. No sign of spotting so far, but if there is, we're on it."
Dahlia stepped up behind Mark, but kept her gaze on me. In it, I read a world of questions. My throat ached to speak, but I held back.
"Thank you," Mark said. "Let's hope it stays that way. Horses at the stable?"
"Yes." I nodded. "Just saw them there."
"If it's all the same," Mark clapped James on the shoulder as he shot us all a grin, "I'll grab them and get out of your way. Thank you again." He raised a stopping hand to Dahlia. "The horses are going to be skittish at best. They won't let you near them. I'll round them up and bring them over to load up."
"How can I help?" she asked.
"Wait until I'm here. I'll let you know if I need help to load them in the trailer."
Mark jogged away. He disappeared into the smoke like a wraith. With Mark and Dahlia here, James wouldn't want us to go on patrol just yet. My gaze lingered to the west as more wind surged. The radio crackled in James' hand.
"Give me a second?" I asked James and motioned toward Dahlia. He looked at her in surprise, to me, then shrugged. With one last, inquiring glance, he called Nilla over and they headed toward the lake, radio in hand. I heard vague tones in the chatter, but purposefully tuned out the update.
The main fire would have likely advanced to the highway by now. We'd probably see fresh starts on our side of the canyon any moment.
Which meant Dahlia needed to get the hell out of here.
Once they were out of earshot, Dahlia stepped toward me.
“I hope it's okay I brought your truck," she blurted out. The first signs of stress appeared in her wrinkled forehead. "Mark needed help and couldn't find anyone that wasn't already evacuating their own animals. He's stupid fond of those horses, I hear."
"It's fine."
Her gaze skated over me, then back to my face. "Pretty intense get up you have here."
My bag strained at my shoulders and waist, filled with safety and survival gear and the most amount of water I could bear to carry and still hike fast. My clothes were grungy, the yellow almost faded to brown. Even though we'd just started work this morning, the grime of the smoky air had settled back into my skin. Never had I thought about what I'd look like in this get up until now.
"Yeah."
The lame word left an awkward silence between us. Unable to bear it I said, "Listen, about yesterday—"
Just as she said, "I'm sorry I pushed you too hard."
Dahlia rolled her lips together, giggled, and let out a long breath. "Let's start over. You first."
The tension broke between us, but I still felt it building inside. Here was my chance to make things right, but I wasn't really sure where I'd gone wrong. Or if I had. Or if I wanted it to be right after all. Things had been simpler before Dahlia shone light into my world. Before I willingly plunged her into it.
"I have no idea what to say, Dahlia."
Her curious expression softened. "Oh."
I lifted my hands in a helpless gesture. "I totally chickened out yesterday. I was excited to see you again, but I couldn't bring myself to visit after all I'd revealed to you the day before.
“I’d just spoken to my sister's hospice nurse, who was telling me about how they'd make her comfortable because she's dying. Also visited my father who is dying, but not really. I've never introduced my family to anyone before. Not when they’ve been unhealthy and . . . not themselves. I . . . I do things myself. I get them done. I don't invite other people into my world. So you . . . I couldn't . . . it all just . . . piled up."
Dahlia blinked. She didn't register utter terror on her face yet, so I took it as a good sign and kept going.
"I don't know the right thing to say. But I do want to say that I'm sorry. I should have come over to see you because it's what I wanted to do. Instead, I chickened out. Also, I struggle with anxiety and it’s been so much worse since I met you. I'm in my head about all these things all the time, and women only make it worse. The ones that matter, anyway. I've been a mess since the moment I met you."
