Hunter smiles at me, and suddenly, I’m not here in front of practically everyone I know.I’m in the front seat of his truck after school, just the two of us, and he’s looking at me likethat.
I force myself to look away.I pick a spot on the wall and stare at it, even though I don’t have the slightest clue where I was in my little speech.
“On behalf of the Forest Service and the Copper Creek Ranger Division, I’d like to present the Canyon Country Hotshot crew with this commemorative plaque of thanks, from us to you!”I say, the words tumbling over each other, like they can’t wait to be out of my mouth.
A second later, I hold the plaque up in front of myself.I look everywhere but at Hunter.
People applaud politely.A middle-aged man stands from a table, walks up to me, and holds out one hand.I shake it.I hand over the plaque as a few flashes go off, and then he gestures at the microphone.
I’m more than happy to step back.
“I’d like to say a warm thanks to the people of Lodgepole for this beautiful plaque, and for opening your hearts and your homes to us like you have...”
He goes on for a few more sentences, but I’m not listening, becauseHunter Casden is sitting fifteen feet awayand I didn’t know we were in the same state.
The man holds up the plaque.He looks at me.People applaud again.I smile mechanically, because this seems like the sort of occasion where people smile, even though I feel like every nerve in my body is vibrating so fast I might catch fire.
Barry comes back.The guy I gave the plaque to heads to his seat, and I walk back to mine, heels clicking on the floor, beads of sweat sliding behind my ears.
I don’t look at Hunter again, but after I’m back at my seat, I stare at the back of his head and don’t hear a single word anyone else says for the rest of the night.
My mind is swirling.I used to think about this moment all the time, about what I’d say to him if I ever saw him again.I’d imagined that I’d be happily married, hot husband on my arm, glamorous and confident, not stumbling my way through a simple speech in a church basement.
I didn’t think I’d feel this deep, weird stab offamiliarity.I didn’t think I’d still recognize the look on his face.I didn’t think it would feel like I’d just seen him yesterday, not eight years ago.
And I didn’t think my brain would insist on repeating the last thing he ever said to me:I never loved you anyway.
ChapterTwo
Hunter
From across the table,my Captain is glaring daggers, but I have no fucking idea why.I just stare back, wondering what his problem isthistime.
I showed up to this dumb spaghetti dinner, even though I’d rather be with that cute waitress from the barbecue joint, showing her some fire hose techniques, if you know what I mean.Though from the way she winked at me and wrote her number on my receipt, I have the feeling she already knows her way around one.
Porter’s still glaring, and now his jaw flexes a little, the way it does when he’sreallyannoyed, but I still don’t know why.I wore my only button-down shirt, a tie, and khaki slacks, so I look like a twenty-year-old interviewing to be the bag boy at the grocery store.
I’m not really paying attention to the tap dancing kids or the high schoolers reciting poetry, but come the fuck on.None of us are.This is the boring part of the job, the part where the people whose towns didn’t get burned down tell us how glad they are about it.
Sure, it’s nice of them.But I’d rather be doing pretty much anything else right now.Hell, I’d rather be digging a fire break in ninety-degree heat, watching smoke rise from trees a quarter-mile away.At leastthat’sexciting.
The kids up front stop tap-dancing, and everyone applauds.I put down my plastic fork and join in, and even Porter looks away from me for a moment.
Then the guy with the gray hair — I think he’s the mayor or something, if this town is even big enough for a mayor — comes back and starts saying something.I glance down at my plate, and suddenly, I realize what Ryan was so annoyed about.
My plastic silverware is in a pile on my plate, broken into tiny pieces.It’s topped by my napkin, also torn into tiny shreds.
I’ve never been able to sit still.I needaction, I needthings to do, or I start getting a little stir crazy.That’s when I do shit like tear napkins into tiny pieces.Porter once compared me to a dog who tears the house up out of boredom when the owners were gone, and even though I wasn’t crazy about the comparison, he had a point.
I sit back in my chair and cross my arms in front of my chest, giving Porter ahappy now?look.He turns away, and I wonder how much longer I have to sit here.
I don’t do this job for the thanks, or to save lives, or any of that heroic shit.I do this because it’s exciting.It’s thrilling.It’s the only thing that comes close to being in a war zone.
The mayor-or-whatever is still talking, but at least he’s wrapping it up.
“Next, I’d like to give the floor to the senior ranger from the Copper Creek Division, Jennifer Tetson.Jennifer?”
A chair somewhere behind me scrapes against the tile, and as heels click toward the front of the room, I pray that this endless dinner is nearly over.
