I looked at the barn and sighed.
The fire crew had it mostly contained. It would be a loss. The back wall, the tack room, and most of the hay storage, but the horses were out.
John Jenkins had arrived at some point. Even now, his face was still white and redoing the same count I’d done. One, two, three, four, five. He counted them twice.
Across the yard, Mrs. Winslow had appeared from somewhere. Today’s outfit didn’t disappoint. I loved her. Today’s designer choice was a pink long-sleeved shirt with yellow balloons, a blue tulle skirt, and sensible shoes, which was her standard. She was directing two of the younger volunteer firefighters toward the water line while eating a sub sandwich. One of them actually saluted her. She accepted it without comment, winking at me.
I watched her and almost laughed. She was a hoot.
When Mason, Levi, and Austin pulled up, Mason deferred to Bo because he knows things Mason doesn't. He knows fire behavior, structural risk, flashover points, and how to read a burn more than anyone in town. The volunteer crew looked to him for instruction, even now, as the fire crew contained and put out the fire. I was so proud of him. He was far more level-headed than I could have been.
Bo looked at me from across the yard.
And his eyes met mine. He raised his brows as if to ask if I was still okay, and I was.
I pulled the blanket tighter and looked out at the five horses standing quietly along the fence line, steam rising off their backs in the cold morning air. Chief. Ranger. Scout. Ace. Duke.
All five of them. And Millie. She was still checking them, her vet bag in hand and Oliver and Cooper at her side.
My parents were still beside me, and the water from the firehose had dampened my blanket, but I didn’t care.
I thought about the way Bo had come through that door without hesitation. I didn’t know if he knew I was in there, or just the horses, but I was grateful for his appearance.
After I was out and safe, Bo jumped right back into hero mode and battled the barn with practiced skill. I’d heard from Tyler a few times about some of the missions he and Bo had been on, and, with it being so far away, I knew it was dangerous. But watching Bo now, my heart raced, knowing how many times I'd almost lost him. A man who wasn’t really mine, and still, my heart hammered in my chest at how dangerous his job was. I was definitely thankful to have him today.
A beam crashed down beside him when it gave out under its own weight, and I flinched and almost jumped off the back of the truck, but Mom held me there. The beam was only a hair's breadth away, and Bo just stepped to the side and kept on working. Three times I’d seen things fall, crackle, and pop within five feet of him, and he moved and danced with the fire as if he’d done it a hundred times before.
And with each thought, I felt my chest tighten just a little more. Since I was fourteen, I’d loved Bo Gates, and for nine years, I’d been secretly waiting for him to finally see me, and if I lost him now, I don’t think my heart would ever recover.
By breathing, I quivered at the thought, and my mom wrapped a new blanket around my shoulders, thinking I was cold, and I was. Stiff as cold tar at what I’d almost lost. I didn’t say it out loud. I just smiled tightly up at my mom.
I just sat there in the smoke-smelling morning with my mother’s hand on my shoulder and my dad’s hand in mine,and watched Bo help fight a fire, and I let myself feel the full weight of it.
All five horses were out.
And I knew, with the same quiet certainty, that nothing about this morning was going to be just anything.
Chapter 9
Fire and Fear
Bo
Monday mornings at Ethel's had begun to feel increasingly normal with each passing Monday. When we go home, they tell us that it may seem manly and strong to handle it alone, but there is a breaking point, and boy, was I happy Sam found me.
It wasn't the coffee, though Ethel's coffee was worth the drive on its own. It wasn't only the company, but more so the kind of people. It was, in general, a room full of men who had lived through what other people never had to imagine. You came in, drank your coffee, and let the conversation happen as it did. Sometimes there was a story about a deer in a garage, or an elk hunt that ended up a duck hunt. Other times, you've got to help someone go through what you went through and might have a different take on it. Or they stated their piece, and we moved on. It was what every veteran needed.
Sam was already in the back booth when I walked in, Molly under the table, newspaper folded to the crossword section he’d no doubt never finish. Jake was beside him, in the middle of a story about his neighbor's dog and a missingbag of beef jerky. By the way he was telling it, you’d think he was in the middle of a true crime drama. Levi was across from them, shaking his head. Mason was at the counter getting a refill from Ethel, and Austin had pulled a chair to the end of the booth; it was a habit. Which was partially right. The rest of us thought it was because he couldn’t stop watching the door.
He never argued the point, so we let it go.
I slid in beside Levi. Lila appeared with coffee and an apple Danish. Although technically, coffee and Danishes were free to veterans on Mondays, we all left a big enough tip that it probably paid for itself three times over. But it was the thought that counts.
"Jake," Sam said without looking up from his crossword. "The dog didn't steal it. Your wife hid it from you."
"That is a serious accusation." Jake looked taken aback, as if his wife would ever do that.
She did, and we all knew it.
