Page 84 of Falling for the Firefighter
Before I can respond, Parker approaches with update requests, pulling Mac's attention back to immediate operational needs. The moment breaks, reality reasserting itself in the form of fire maps, deployment schedules, and resource allocations.
Jackson touches my arm lightly. "We should get back. Donovan's waiting for our report."
I nod, turning to leave, when Mac's voice stops me.
"Josephine. A word before you go."
He steps away from the command vehicle, creating a small pocket of privacy amid the organized chaos of the staging area. I follow, heart inexplicably accelerating despite the professional context.
"The road you found." His voice drops slightly, not intimate but less formal than before. "It saved us hours of critical time. The hotspots in Sector Seven were at risk of reactivating into a significant threat."
"I'm glad it helped." I match his tone, conscious of the operational activity surrounding us.
Something shifts in his expression, professional appreciation giving way to something more personal.
"You keep saving us."
The simple acknowledgment hits harder than any elaborate praise.
Mac glances toward the command center, clearly torn between duty and something else. "I need to finish here, but after we should talk."
"Talk?" I repeat the word, knowing it encompasses far more than mere conversation.
"Yes." His gaze intensifies. "About maps. Mountains. Wherewego from here."
"I'd like that." My response is simple but honest.
Something like relief flickers across his features. "I'll find you when we're done here."
Jackson waits by the truck, tactfully pretending not to observe our exchange. As we drive back toward command headquarters, he maintains a diplomatic silence for all of thirty seconds.
"So." He finally ventures, eyes on the ash-dusted road. "You and Sullivan."
"It's complicated." I stare out the window, watching the gradual transition from burned landscape to partially preserved forest. It’s not really complicated. Mac’s tenure at Angel’s Peak will come to an end when fire season officially ends. He’ll return to California with the rest of his team, while I stay behind.
"Always is." He offers the wisdom of someone who's seen enough of life to know its patterns. "Especially when it matters."
We complete the drive in companionable silence, each lost in our private thoughts as twilight settles over Angel's Peak. At command headquarters, we deliver our report to SheriffDonovan, providing detailed information on the alternate route and its capacity for supporting firefighting operations.
"Good work." Donovan studies the marked-up maps.
"The road's in remarkably good condition considering it's been abandoned for decades." Stevens adds his professional assessment. "Some sections will need reinforcement for continued heavy use, but it's immediately viable for emergency operations."
Donovan makes notes, coordinating with state resources now arriving to supplement local efforts. He turns to me. "Get some rest. You've been going nonstop for days." He glances specifically at me. "That's an order, Jo. Twelve hours minimum."
I start to protest, but exhaustion chooses that moment to make itself known—a wave of bone-deep weariness that makes even standing an effort.
"Fine. Twelve hours."
Eleanor appears as if summoned, her timing suspicious enough to suggest coordination with Donovan. "I'll drive you home. You're in no condition to operate a vehicle."
Too tired to argue, I follow her to her ancient Jeep, sliding into the passenger seat with limbs that suddenly feel made of lead. Scout jumps into the back seat.
The drive to my cabin passes in comfortable silence, Eleanor respecting my need for quiet after days of constant crisis communication.
As we pull up to my cabin—miraculously untouched by the fire that came within two miles of its location—she finally speaks. "You did your father proud, child."
The simple statement brings unexpected moisture to my eyes. "I hope so."
