Page 133 of Wild Card
I don’t take back what I told him, but I spent many hours wishing that I hadn’t walked out. That I’d pulled up a stool and waited him out.
That I’d been brave enough to stay, that I hadn’t given in to my instinct to run.
He takes another low swoop over, and I watch with butterflies in my chest and tears on my cheeks.
Soon, two more planes join him, slightly different in design and size. A voice crackles from a speaker in one, telling me to get in my vehicle.
I wave up at the airplane, showing my agreement, and jog toward my truck. Within minutes, the planes zip over and liquid splatters across the roof. Droplets from it streak down my windshield. I drop my head against the headrest and shame-spiral, feeling guilty for all the resources I’m taking up.
All because I’m a big old bleeding heart with an impulsive streak.
But what’s done is done, and I’m not about to turn away rescue when the universe plunks it in my lap.
Time blurs as I sit in my truck. I alternate between closing my eyes, trying to dissociate to ease my fear, and looking out to see if anything’s changed.
Eventually, the roar of the planes recedes and everything grows quiet, leaving only the crackle of the nearby fire. Movement at the end of the driveway draws my attention, and a compact fire rescue vehicle careens onto the property.
It stops right beside me, and a female police officer climbs out, along with a man dressed similarly to Bash—only his shirt readsAlberta Wildfire.
He rounds the front of the vehicle and jogs toward me as I roll down the window. “Gwen?” he asks.
“Yeah, that’s me,” I say, trying not to give in to the welling tears in my eyes. There’s an embroidered patch over his heart that spells outEatonand I focus on that instead.
“So glad we found you.” He smiles, and it might be the most reassuring smile in the world. Something about him screamsconfident and capable, and it eases the knot in my chest.
He reaches a hand toward me. “Hi. I’m Beau. Here to help you out. What do you say we get the hell off this mountain?”
I shake his hand through the open window, grateful. “Sounds like a really, really great plan. You are officially my hero.”
“Ah, I don’t know if I would take it that far. I just got in from out of province to help out, walked into the station to hear a fella up in one of those planes losing his goddamn mind on the radio over finding you. Figured I could make a detour on my way to the front lines.”
I wince. “Sorry. Is he being a nightmare?”
The man grins. “Nah. I’d be the same over my girl too.”
I blink at him, too stunned to know how to respond, but he forges ahead, unconcerned by silence. “Are you good to follow us down, or do you want me to hop in with you?”
“Oh, no. I’m okay to follow you down.”
“The guys in the air cleared the road, so we should be good to go. It was fine coming up, but we’ll want to get down before anything changes.”
I nod quickly, reaching for the keys and starting my engine. “Let’s go, then.”
When the road shifts from gravel and winding to smooth and paved, I heave out a sigh of relief.
With the red truck before me and the fire behind me, exhaustion hits me hard and fast.
Up ahead, I spot the blockade—that wasn’t there last night—and two cop cars stretching across the road, lights flashing.
Just beyond it, I see a black truck that I’d recognize anywhere.
Relief courses through me at the sight of the man who comes into focus as I draw nearer. Bash, standing with his hands linked behind his head, his body coiled with tension as he stares straight ahead like he’s trying to will me into existence.
The second he sees my truck, he goes from pacing on the spot to gunning for me.
Bash pushes his way past the cars and weaves past the barricades the second we slow. My eyes sting as I watch him run to me. Strong, stoic, and fucking frantic.
The minute I’m close enough to the barricade, I throw my truck in park and open the door, leaving the engine running as I step out onto the asphalt.
