Page 81 of Falling for the Firefighter
"He's something else, isn't he?" Parker appears beside me, her uniform in similar condition to Mac's, though she at least seems to have completed her medical assessment.
"He is." I don't bother denying the obvious.
"Never seen him like this." She accepts a bottle of water from a passing volunteer. "During a fire, sure, he's always the captain. But this—" she gestures vaguely toward where Mac now sits submitting to medical examination, "—this is different."
"Different how?"
Parker studies me with knowing eyes. "Five years, dozen major fires, I've never seen him look at maps the way he looks at yours. Never seen him trust someone's word over his tech." She takes a long drink. "Never seen him look at anyone the way he looks at you."
Before I can respond, Sheriff Donovan's voice cuts through on all emergency channels: "Command to all units. Fire containment is at seventy percent. Wind is shifting favorably. State resources are arriving within the hour. Maintain positions but prepare for relief rotation."
Parker straightens, professional responsibility reasserting itself.
"Duty calls. My team needs assessment and rest rotation." She hesitates, then adds, "He won't say it, so I will. What you did—remembering those tunnels, knowing exactly where to send us—it was extraordinary."
She walks away before I can respond, rejoining the organized chaos of emergency operations. I stand alone for a moment, watching Mac as he receives oxygen treatment while simultaneously reviewing tactical maps with Noah Morgan. Even exhausted and injured, he remains fully present and fully committed to the responsibility he carries.
And I realize, with startling clarity, that I've fallen for far more than his commanding presence or the way his hands feel on my skin. I've fallen for the man who carries the weight of lives with unflinching determination, who trusts my expertise when technology fails, who looks at my mountains and sees what I see—not obstacles to overcome, but forces to respect and work alongside.
The fire still burns across parts of Angel's Peak, but something else has ignited as well—something that will remain long after the last embers cool.
Chapter 19
Containment
Three daysafter the fire tornado, Angel's Peak exists in two states simultaneously—parts untouched and functioning almost normally, while others have been transformed into blackened moonscapes, where trees stand like skeletal sentinels against an ash-gray ground.
The fire continues to burn in the eastern wilderness, but coordinated efforts have contained its advance away from populated areas.
The Haven's ballroom has permanently transitioned from a command center to a recovery headquarters. Maps still cover the tables, but they track different data now—damaged structures, compromised watersheds, unstable slopes at risk for mudslides when rain eventually comes.
Scout lies beneath the main table, her chin resting on my boots as I work. The past three days have taken their toll on her, too, but she's adapted to this new normal, positioning herself where she can monitor both the entrance and my movements while staying out of the way of the constant foot traffic.
I bend over the latest assessment, marking areas where emergency trail restoration will be needed before winter. Thework grounds me, giving purpose to hours that might otherwise be spent processing everything that has happened.
Mac and his hotshot crew have been deployed continuously since the tunnel rescue, working in shifts to secure the fire's edge and prevent any resurgence toward town.
We've barely spoken—a few brief radio exchanges, a moment's eye contact during shift change, his hand brushing mine as we passed maps between us during tactical briefings.
Professional. Proper. Maddening.
"Jo." Sheriff Donovan approaches, looking marginally less exhausted than he did yesterday. "Got a situation that needs your expertise."
I straighten, rolling tight shoulders.
"What kind of situation?"
"Fire's contained along the northeastern sector, but we've got a new problem." He spreads a satellite image across my maps. "Heavy equipment team reports the old mining road has collapsed in three places. They can't get fire crews to the hotspots in Sector Seven."
I study the image and identify the problem immediately. "They're trying to use the main access road. It's built on unconsolidated fill that would be unstable after intense heat."
"Exactly. We need an alternate route for heavy equipment. Something that can support brush trucks at a minimum."
My mind shifts to the mental map I carry of that region—a combination of official surveys and personal exploration over years of hiking.
"There's an old logging road that parallels the mining access. It's not on official maps because it was abandoned in the 80s, but the roadbed is solid rock in most sections."
"Viable for vehicles?"
