Prologue

FIVE YEARS AGO

When did we start complimenting funerals, calling them nice ? Who started that? I’d love to trip them up a flight of stairs. Comment after comment today has been admiring the service, as if it’s the only small talk anyone knows how to make. Funerals are funerals. They all suck. However, this one is the worst… because I watched him die, and the fresh memory of his lifeless body plays on repeat in my thoughts. The only grace is that he went instantly.

It’s a relief to leave the funeral home, but driving to Garrett’s duplex seems equally, if not more, daunting. I’m not sure where they will put all these people, it’s not a huge house. Along the residential street, I shift my truck into park behind many other vehicles belonging to friends and family.

Garrett Macomb was our leader, the superintendent of our hotshot crew, and the father of one of my best friends. Though many of our crew members would argue he was like a dad to all of us .

“You okay?” my fiancée, Molly, asks while flipping down the passenger visor and drawing on a fresh coat of lipstick. She’s trying to be supportive, but there’s an underlying tone in her voice. She’s frustrated with me, and I can't blame her. Since watching Garrett die, I’ve been less and less present. My thoughts steal me away, and I’m constantly distracted.

With my work schedule, the time I have with Molly is short and valuable. We’ve been together since high school, then made a home in Sky Ridge, Washington, so I could chase my dream of fighting wildfires, and Molly found a great school to start her teaching career. In the beginning, things were great, but with each annual fire season that passes, the strain on our relationship grows. Fire assignments are fourteen days at a time, then it’s only a few days at home for R he’ll never be the same.

It’s as if Xander is hollow inside, gutted by the death of his father, and I was the one who held the knife. The day I had to notify my best friend that his dad died was the worst of my life. It will be a long time before I see the light in my friend again.

“Where’s Molly?” King asks, startling me, then leaning against the wall at my side. He’s my other best friend on the crew, and I appreciate his presence .

“She’s around here somewhere…”

“Probably got cornered by ol’ Ruthie.”

I huff out a small laugh. “Brought in a casserole for that woman—I’ve swung axes that weighed less.”

He shakes his head with a smirk, and we observe the masses while pinned against the wall.

“How are you feeling about the promotion?”

When I first earned my quals for a captain spot, I was ecstatic. The plan was simple. Garrett Macomb was set to retire at the end of the fire season, allowing Xander to take over as IHC Superintendent of the Sky Ridge Hotshots. I’d worked my ass off in preparation for Garrett’s retirement so when Xander moved up, I could replace his role as captain. This promotion was a BFD.

It came with a much-needed pay bump and would allow me to give Molly her dream wedding. We’re on year seven of our engagement; I promised her that wedding, and I’m not marrying her until I can give it to her. On top of that, the salary increase meant we could finally vacate our rental. There’s a fixer-upper I’ve had my eye on since I moved here. The house is in rough shape, but it’s within our budget and has a lot of potential. It might take time to get it there, but with some TLC, I have zero doubt.

Molly and I were thrilled the next phase of our life would start once this promotion happened. However, with Garrett’s death being before the end of season, plans shifted. Now the would-be happy occasion has been marred by the death of our superintendent, and it doesn’t feel like cause for celebration.

I shrug. “Wish it was under different circumstances, ya know?”

“We all do.”

“It’s weird being here, right? With all his stuff,” I add, scanning the room .

Between the nearly wall-to-wall people are small memories of him. The recliner he watched baseball in is occupied by a stranger balancing a plate of food on their lap. I shake my head when a glob of dip spills off the side of the plate and onto the floor. It will likely be mashed into the carpet when somebody walks over it later.

Pictures of Xander and his family adorn the walls. His mom and brothers flew in from Michigan for the funeral. I’ve heard Xander is getting the duplex, and at some point will be going through his dad’s stuff. I don’t know how he’s going to handle that.

From the corner of my eye, I see Jacob, another guy on our crew, enter. His twin sister, Vi, is close behind. Steady chatter hums all around. It has an overall cheerful tone, like you might hear at a wedding reception or graduation party. It’s the sound of people catching up on their lives and sharing fond memories of Garrett. I’ve avoided reminiscing. Every time I do, the thought is quickly overshadowed by the image of him right before he died. Fuck that.

Molly says I need to find a way to move on. I’m trying, but sometimes, it feels like I’ll never get over this. No matter how much I want to. I met with a therapist, but after coming home exhausted and drained, I felt no better and had no energy left for Molly, which resulted in a big argument that night, then she stayed at a friend’s place. Whatever issues are piling up in my brain, I can’t allow them to rip my life apart at the seams. I need to find a way to shove it deep enough that it won’t surface. Or at the very least, not let it show. Nobody would understand the shift in personality. This isn’t like me, I’m supposed to be the easy-going one.

“What’s weird is being here with this many people,” King states, standing up taller to make room for someone walking through with a bouquet of white lilies. We turn our heads to the left to avoid getting smacked in the face by the petals. He nods to the small group of county firefighters who have congregated in the corner of the room. “I’m surprised the structure monkeys haven’t started kicking people out. We’re definitely over capacity.”

I chuckle. “At least Dave isn’t here.” The words are out before I can stop them.

Dave and Molly grew up next door to each other. She says he’s like a brother, but I wouldn’t be surprised if Dave’s been crushing on her since they were kids. I find it suspicious he ended up in the same town we did. He’s also been trying to make the jump from structure to wildfire. As a favor to Molly, I gave him a spot on our seasonal crew, which was a mistake. He was problematic from the get-go. On the crew, he was a cocky motherfucker, always acted above everyone, constantly questioned orders, and never looked out for the guys around him. Plus, he had a shit work ethic and dropped more chainsaws in the dirt than anyone I’ve ever seen.

When Garrett asked for my opinion on if we should give him a permanent spot, it was an easy “Hell no.” However, being in a small town like Sky Ridge, word got back around to Dave, and he’s been a dick about it ever since.

“Probably didn’t want to show his face after he got rejected,” King adds. He’s about as big a fan of him as I am.

Xander’s height makes him easy to spot as he makes his way over.

“Hey, man.”

He lines up next to us along the wall. “Hey.”

“Too bad nobody showed,” King says, words laced with sarcasm.

“I think it’s safe to say my brothers underestimated how many people would be here. Tried telling them…” His voice is empty. I hate it.

We stand like sardines between the kitchen and living area, and I couldn’t be more thankful we’re shoulder to shoulder, because looking at a broken Xander is absolute torture. Being the one to give him the news was terrible. The words tasted foul as they left my lips. If I could have swallowed them down, I would have done it in a heartbeat.

The steady white noise of conversation around us fades into nothing as my mind is swept back to that day. The expression on Garrett’s face just before he died… A million words passed between us. The image will be seared into my brain forever. There was nothing I could do to stop that tree from falling.

The sorrow in his features will haunt me forever. He knew he was going to die; I saw it in his eyes, and he wasn’t ready.

I’m glad Xander wasn’t there to see it, and I’ll take that memory to my grave. I only hope I can bury it inside me so deep even I can’t find it. I want to forget it’s there. Unfortunately, it surfaces every time I see photos of him, which are everywhere today. As my thoughts spiral, the room suddenly feels stifling hot, the air is thick—it’s like I can’t get a breath. Get a fucking grip. I glance toward the front door, but it’s blocked with people saying their goodbyes.

I need air.

“I’m gonna find a bathroom,” I say, pushing off the wall. I make my way to the back hall, hoping the spare bedroom is available to lock myself inside while I get my shit together. My heart pounds with each step, and the only thing I’m able to hear is the whoosh of my pulse in my ears as my vision tunnels. Fuck, am I having a heart attack?

It’s as if my thoughts are circling the drain, and I can’t pull out of its vortex. Despite my best efforts, I can’t derail them to anything else. Inhale. My chest is too tight to take a breath, and it feels like I’m being crushed under the enormous weight of everything that happened. My fingers shake as I work to loosen the tie around my neck; it feels more like a noose.

Finally, I reach the room and wrap my hand around the doorknob, then force it open while holding my breath and waiting for relief to hit me.

It doesn’t.

I’m sucker punched by my future wife getting fucked by another man.

Looks like Dave showed up.