Page 1 of Love in the Time of Wildfires

Chapter One

When the world was on fire, there didn’t seem to be any point to falling in love.

Logan Sonelli understood this. His mother, on the other hand, did not. Nor did she believe the world was on fire. “Stop being so dramatic,” she liked to say when he reported how bad things were—even when literally coming from battling a fire.

As a Sierra hotshot firefighter, Logan knew a lot about fires, both the literal and figurative ones. He wasn’t sure which one was worse. It didn’t matter, because Logan was bone-tired after fighting an active Arizona fire for the last ten days and didn’t have the energy for either one. The hotshot buggy, a short bus that transported the crew to faraway locations, was making its return trip to a shared South Lake Tahoe lot where their vehicles were parked. The jostling bus should have been rocking him to sleep.

So when his phone lit up with Mom, he debated answering. He only did so to tell her that he and the crew were fine and heading home. His big mistake, though, was pushing the speakerphone so he could rest the device on his chest because he was too exhausted to bring it to his ear. His mother seemed to only care about his safety in as much as she wanted to set him up. She refused to accept that he had no interest in another relationship after his first marriage imploded.

“I’m worried about you, sweetie. All you do is work, and there are so many young ladies I want you to meet. It doesn’t seem right that Amelia—bless her heart—moved on so quickly, and you do nothing but work.”

Except being a wildland firefighter didn’t leave a lot of room for a social life, especially during fire season when he could be gone for weeks at a time. His mother should know this, since his father had also been a firefighter. He’d never made it up to being a hotshot, like Logan. But his dad had worked his way up from type 2, doing mostly gridding and mop-up work on areas where a fire had passed through, to type 1, which was working on active fires. In those days, they were referred to as forest technicians and had the low pay to go with it—the latter hadn’t changed much over the years. Either way, his mom had more knowledge than most about how limited his time was, which was exactly what he told her.

“Well, I don’t understand why things are so bad now. You’re working earlier in the year and for longer. Your dad never did this. Are you sure you’re not working on two squads? I wouldn’t be surprised if you’re doing this just to avoid meeting new people.”

Logan sighed heavily, hating to have this conversation somewhat publicly, where the rest of the crew could hear, but was too tired to change anything about the situation.

“Ma, fire seasons are worse due to climate change and the ecosystem being dramatically altered. It’s just going to get worse, especially for the western states, where we’re already seeing the effects. I’ve already told you this a hundred times.”

“Oh, stop being so dramatic, Logan,” she replied with a click of her tongue, as though tired of humoring his wild imagination. “Your father said it’s not as bad as you say and that they use a lot of that AI to beef up news stories for advertising money.”

While seeing hand-painted banners lining the streets thanking firefighters for saving a threatened nearby town was still fairly common, he’d also seen a changing attitude. People had become more outspoken in telling him that his experiences with facing hotter and more unpredictable flames was incorrect and that they had done enough internet research to know. He’d been screamed at and threatened by farmers who felt the back-burn came too close to their land. Others waved him off, telling him they should let everything burn to the ground because, if there were no trees, there’d be no fires. Imagining the area he grew up in, the Sierra Nevada, treeless wasn’t a future he wanted to exist in. His sacrifice, his work, was now only valued if it aligned with the speaker’s viewpoint.

This was hard enough to hear from strangers. Getting it from his own parents, whom he’d expect to trust him about the reality of things, was especially painful. His father, who used to be Logan’s hero, knew this more than anyone—until he became too injured to do the work anymore. For Anthony to spout conspiracy theories that the government started fires to steal resources and make a bunch of money—and that his own son might be complicit—hurt. For him to tell his firefighter son to let it all burn to the ground and who cares about the land they’d spent years camping on—that hit Logan deep in the gut. It was heartbreaking, because Logan hadn’t just lost his love for the job, but seemed to have lost his dad as well.

“Oh, I did run into Amelia—bless her heart. Her baby is adorable. Just think it could have been yours.”

Logan didn’t want to respond to this. It had been two years since the divorce and, though things were rocky at the end, he didn’t hold anything against her. But replying, “Good for her,” which he very much meant, might sound sarcastic due to his exhaustion.

A baby had been all Amelia wanted toward the end of their marriage. She’d never liked his job, which was understandable, and she didn’t know how to cope with someone as absent as him. In her mind, a baby would solve some of the problems.

The real issue was that Logan had always been against having kids. Why would he want to bring anyone into a world like this? He didn’t want to become a father when he was already so disconnected from his community and would keep missing out on things. As much as he cared for Amelia, this wasn’t a challenge they’d be able to overcome. Her love for him wasn’t enough, when her desire to have an infant ranked higher. While it was difficult to lose his wife, Logan had accepted his fate.

Truthfully, he didn’t blame her. They just faced the eventual end of the world differently. He was saving for a tiny cabin in the middle of nowhere until the fire took everything, and his wife wanted a real family. Strangely, it wasn’t as hard going it alone as he’d expected. Maybe he’d always been meant to be solitary.

But he didn’t want to talk about it—especially with his mother in a crowded buggy among his crew. “Ma, can we talk about something else?” A better idea would be ending the call. Unfortunately, his mother’s feelings were hurt whenever he tried to keep calls short. He was being dramatic about the world burning, but her imagining he didn’t love her anymore because he was tired and didn’t want to talk was normal behavior. Yeah, he didn’t understand the logic either.

“In that case,” his mother cooed. “We can talk about the fundraiser calendar.”

Despite his mother’s sensitive feelings, Logan groaned in obvious displeasure. “Do we have to? It’s May—not even close to the new year. Why talk about it now?”

“For goodness’ sake, Logan. Must you fight this every time? And you promised me that if I didn’t bug you last year, you would do it this time. I did that screen-savey thing to have what you kids call receipts. Do you need me to send it to you?”

He vaguely remembered the conversation but, in his defense, Logan had only made the promise because of the off chance the whole world burned to ash and he’d never have to worry about promises made. Unfortunately, time pushed forward whether he liked it or not.

His mother continued. “I want you and your squad looking their best, and it’s more interesting if they’re taking their calendar photos in the elements. You’re firefighters. We want you in the woods. The perfect time to do it is before the fire season starts.”

Logan rolled his eyes at this last part because she had already forgotten what he’d mentioned several minutes earlier about fire season already being in full swing. Her memory, it seemed, was selective on what it chose to retain, especially when it didn’t fit her accepted version of reality.

“Plus,” his mother added. “The snow is gone and no one wants their firefighter calendar with you guys all bundled up. What’s the point if you’re not going to offer calendar buyers a little treat?”

“Good god, Ma!” Okay, the conversation was approaching the line of being weird. Logan should have gone with his instinct and not answered the call in the first place. She was, after all, talking about her son and his coworkers offering this supposed “treat.” He wasn’t asking for further details because he didn’t want to know what this meant in his mother’s mind.

Even worse, he could hear snickering in the bus seats around him. Damon Ford, who sat beside him, gave a few nudges with an elbow due to his hands being occupied crocheting something with turquoise yarn, his eyes glittering in amusement.

Even worse, the volume of his mother’s voice increased so no one would miss a word. “And this is a huge hint to you, Logan, because everyone seems to be on board and having a good time. In the meantime, you’re the one with the biggest stick up your hoohaw. It wouldn’t hurt you to show a little more skin. It’s all in good fun and for a really good cause, as you well know. I really don’t understand it, as you’re a very handsome boy and there’s absolutely nothing for you to be ashamed of. I certainly have no idea why you’re such a prude. I didn’t raise you that way.”

“Yeah, Sonny, be proud and tastefully show off your hoohaw. It’s for charity.” This was said by Marcus Navarro, followed by laughter from others. Logan could tell this was going to be a situation where he’d have to come up with some creative work assignment for punishment later. He also wondered if his mom truly understood what the word hoohaw meant, but defining it for her would likely make everything more awkward.