Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 96165 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 481(@200wpm)___ 385(@250wpm)___ 321(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96165 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 481(@200wpm)___ 385(@250wpm)___ 321(@300wpm)
And so Jacob seethed as they worked. The fire on the state lands continued to burn, ground crews working round the clock. They had another long day—early morning cargo drop to crews already on the ground, then a jump themselves, working through thick smoke and heat to carry out the mission before packing out.
Unlike the day before, he was quiet on the pack-out. His muscles burned with more than exertion. If he started in on everything churning through him, he might never stop. Might say things he couldn’t take back. But more importantly, he didn’t want an audience for what needed saying between him and Linc. Garrick was simply a complication he didn’t want to deal with right then.
He trudged on in the hot, smoky air, listening to the comm set, letting Ray’s directions guide him, tuning out Linc and Garrick’s continued efforts to play kindergarten teacher and keep him from the hardest of the tasks. Whatever.
It was well past dark when they finally made it back to Painter’s Ridge, under orders to rest and hydrate and prepare for another long shift. And he was pretty sure no one would advise heading to Linc’s, spoiling for a fight, when he should be resting. But still, here he was, unable to be anywhere else but turning onto Linc’s long drive, gravel crunching under his tires.
The dogs weren’t out to greet him, and for a moment, he worried that Linc might not be home. Had he gone to Jacob’s trailer? But then he emerged on the porch, still no dogs, arms crossed. The night temperatures had dropped, but Linc was still in the same T-shirt he’d worn earlier.
“Where are your sidekicks?” he asked as he approached Linc.
“Out in their run.”
Great. Apparently, they were back to porch conversations and clipped responses. “I take it I’m not getting a chicken dinner.”
“You really interested in food?” Shoulders slumping, Linc shook his head, answering his own question. He still had traces of soot around his face. “Figured I’d let you say your piece first.”
“More like you’d already said it for me without me even saying a word yet. Already made up my mind for me? Doing my work for me again?”
“You didn’t say a full sentence, the whole shift. Didn’t even look my way. I don’t need it in skywriting to tell that you’re pissed at me.”
“With good reason.” Resigning himself to not getting an invitation into the house, he leaned against one of the porch supports. “Seriously, what the fuck, Linc? Giving Garrick the green light to get in my pants? I had no clue the dude was pan.”
“Wasn’t my information to share.” Linc regarded him coolly, porch light making his eyes glow like iron embers in a forge.
“Yeah. You’ve got a real talent for secrets.” His voice came out snappish with his temper already getting the best of him and he still hadn’t reached his real complaints.
“What did you want me to say?” Dropping his arms to his sides, Linc paced away.
“How about the truth? That you’d rather I not hook up with him? Hell, you didn’t even have to confess everything, just admit for freaking once that you care. But you can’t do that. Can’t risk a single person knowing how you really feel. Even me.”
“I never said I don’t care.” Linc swiveled, scowl still firmly in place. “But I’m not sure what that has to do with anything.”
“Maybe everything? If you care and I care, what the hell does it matter who knows? Especially someone like Garrick who already knew your sexuality.” A bitter, caustic thought barreled into his brain. “Oh, hell. Tell me you and him never...”
Linc shrugged in a way that did nothing to ease Jacob’s mind. “Way back when we first were friendly, we sorta felt out that possibility. But we just aren’t compatible like that. So, not that it’s any of your business, but no.”
Making an exasperated noise, Jacob moved to stand directly in front of him. “Of course it’s my business. Come on. You can’t keep pretending that we don’t have any hold on each other.”
“You were the one who said this was simply fucking.” Linc met him hard stare for hard stare. “An itch we scratch until it’s out of our systems.”
“You know perfectly well it’s more than that by now.”
Linc’s silence was damning.
“Hell, it’s always been more than casual between us. You’ve just been too stubborn to admit it.”
“What do you want from me?” Linc threw up his hands before lacing them behind his neck, like he needed restraint to avoid touching him. Jacob understood the impulse—his own damn body couldn’t seem to make up its mind whether he wanted to shove Linc or kiss him until he saw sense.
Fuck. Ignoring those competing impulses, Jacob sagged against the porch pillar, letting it dig into his shoulder, not that the pain provided any comfort or courage. “Everything.”