From Air (Wildfire)

Chapter Twenty-Two

JAYMES

My anger dies.

Psych nurses are practical and empathetic. We feel deeply for the people in our care. Yet, we can make grounded decisions.

With him, I’m anything but grounded.

Fitz’s chilling confession slays me. I think those words will haunt me forever.

I don’t hide my tears. They’re all for him, whether he wants them or not. The ache in my chest, the knot in my stomach—they’re all for him.

His forehead rests on the top of my head. “Can you let it go now? Can this be enough for you?” His words are strained. I feel his desperation on a visceral level.

When his hold on me relaxes, I turn and face him while wiping my eyes. I nod slowly. He doesn’t have to say any more. But I do want more.

“Enough?” My nod turns to a headshake. “I want your lips on mine.” Lifting onto my toes, I brush my lips against his. “I want your hands all over my body.” My fingertips ghost along his palms. “Under my skin,” I whisper, dragging my lips down his neck. “Between my legs.” I nip at his skin. “I want to feel you deep inside of me.” I tease his skin just under the hem of his shirt. “And even then, it will never be enough for me.”

“Jaymes,” he whispers, brow tight. However, it doesn’t keep his hands out of my hair. It doesn’t keep his lips away from mine.

I exhale and melt into him, opening my mouth and sliding my tongue along his. In two months, I’m leaving Missoula.

For now, I’m here. I’m exactly where I want to be.

My hands grip his shirt to keep me upright while the intensity of our kiss grows, while dopamine floods my veins, rousing a deep need. He presses me to the wall, wedging his thick leg between mine.

Today is the day we will get kicked out of the house.

“I can’t stop.” He says each word in a strangled voice, his hand sliding up my shirt and yanking my bra down to expose my breast.

“Don’t”—I pant so hard my chest hurts—“stop.” My desperate fingers unbutton his jeans and fumble with his zipper.

He’s inciting a riot in my head, and common sense is getting its ass kicked by lust. The need is feral and unrecognizable. I’ve never felt this lack of control over my body.

The creak and thunk of the back door closing send us apart. Fitz keeps a steady, drunk gaze on me while he buttons his jeans. I, on the other hand, suck in a sharp breath and hold it while I straighten my bra before my fingers race through my mussed hair.

Maren opens the laundry-room door before either one of us has a chance to speak. “Uh ... what’s going on?”

Shit. Shit. SHIT.

Fitz doesn’t flinch. I’ve never seen such militant composure. I see the man who jumps out of planes and treks toward wildfires without much thought.

“Jaymes wanted to kiss me, but she didn’t want you to see.” He smirks.

Maren narrows her eyes for barely a second before laughing. “Seriously, what are you doing?”

“I am serious.” He playfully tugs her ponytail while shouldering past her and waltzing out the back door, leaving me accountable to confess or lie.

Why would he do that?

I frown, hoping she assumes my flushed face is from him embarrassing me. “It’s true. I just couldn’t help myself.” With a dramatic eye roll, I shake my head. “He hid in here and tried to scare me when I came down from the bathroom.”

Even I don’t believe my excuse. I’m not a good liar. She’s going to know.

After a few seconds, she chuckles. “He’s such an ass.”

I nod a half-dozen times. “A hundred percent.”

“Let’s go grab sandwiches for lunch. Will said he’s starving.”

“Sounds good.” I manage to speak without breathing.

When she turns toward the door, I exhale and nearly pass out from the stress.

“If you need anything else while we’re out, text me,” Maren calls to the guys as I follow her to her car.

Will cuts another piece of siding while Fitz eyes me, wetting his lips to hide his grin.

I’m angry because he’s put me in an awful situation with Maren while I’m still reeling from the kiss. It was everything, yet not nearly enough.

And his confession ( they’re all dead ) is lodged in my heart like a jagged shard of glass, making it hard to breathe and impossible to extricate.

“How are you and Will fine with not knowing more about Fitz’s situation with his family? His past?” I ask Maren when we get a few blocks away from home.

“I met Fitz through my brother. He told me Fitz’s past wasn’t up for discussion. And when he said it, there wasn’t any humor in his voice. I knew from the look on his face that there was a hard line. I think Brandon knew about Fitz’s past. And I don’t know anyone else who does. Perhaps Gary. But I think my brother took it to his grave. And Fitz is a vault.”

“Why did he tell Brandon but not Will?”

“Brandon and Fitz were cut from the same cloth. Job first, everything else came second. Both loners. Both preferred books to people. Brandon was in the army before he became a firefighter. He never admitted it, but I think he had some PTSD. I think somewhere along the way, he shared things with Fitz that he never shared with me. And I think Fitz felt comfortable opening up to him as well.”

“Aren’t you curious about Fitz’s past?”

“Of course.” She shoots me a glance. “But we all have things we can’t discuss or that trigger emotions we don’t want to feel. So what’s the point in forcing Fitz to talk about something he doesn’t want to talk about? It’s none of my business, and I respect that the way I had to respect my brother’s refusal to open up about his experiences during the time he served in the army.”

Not me. I have an overwhelming urge to dig and pry. I’m not the world’s best friend right now. Maren hasn’t had sex with Fitz. She’s not invested the way I am. As that admission drifts to the forefront of my consciousness, I realize I’m too invested.

I knew I would be.

I tried to prepare my heart.

Still, here I am, unprepared for the inevitable.

After working four days of twelve-hour shifts, I get six hours of sleep and grab a late-morning coffee. Then I find myself headed toward the base. Pulling into the parking lot, I realize I should have made cookies. Instead, I’m showing up empty handed because I haven’t found a second alone with Fitz since last week’s laundry-room kiss.

To my surprise, Gary’s at the front desk talking to Bailey.

“Jamie, what a pleasant surprise. Whatcha up to today?” Gary asks.

“I need to chat with Fitz. But if he’s busy—”

“He’s out back training the rookies. I’m headed that way. Come on.”

I follow Gary past the plane to an open area where they’re running drills.

“Yo, Fitz!”

Fitz supervises a group of men and women in full gear, dropping and rolling into a sawdust pit; he peers over his shoulder.

Gary waves him toward us.

My roommate looks sexy in his green cargo pants, brown boots, and smoke jumper–logo hoodie. He’s also wearing an unreadable expression. I instantly second-guess my decision to come. I don’t know why I assumed he’d be doing nothing and we’d find a private corner to discuss the kiss and other things.

“Jaymes.” When he says my full name, it always sounds like I’m in trouble. I’ve never asked him why he doesn’t call me Jamie. Not that I mind. Jaymes has never sounded better or made me feel sexier.

Gary heads toward the field, leaving us alone.

“Did you bring baked goods?”

I shake my head, pressing my lips together.

“Then what’s up?” He crosses his arms.

Shit.

Why is he asking me that? I’m here because he kissed me, and I want to know if he’ll do it again.

“I took that job in California. I don’t start until mid-July, so I’ll have time to decompress after moving before starting my new job.”

There’s a pause before he reacts. That is not why I came here. I haven’t told anyone about the job. Fitz was going to be the last person I told, not the first.

Nevertheless, here we are.

Tiny lines crease his brow for a few seconds. “Congratulations.”

“Thanks. It’s just a job.”

“A job in California. You get to add a new state to your travel map.”

I fold my hands behind me and rock back and forth on my feet. “I don’t have a travel map.”

He chuckles, scratching the back of his neck. “You should.”

I nod several times, but I’ve lost all momentum. “I miss you,” I say under my breath, my gaze sinking to our feet.

“I’m right here.”

“You’ve never been right here.” With my emotions on full display, my heart can barely muster the bravery required to look him in the eye. It’s a stifling vulnerability that makes it hard to breathe.

“What do you want from me?” he asks.

“I want everything, but I’ll settle for your body.”

The muscles along his jaw twitch, but that doesn’t prevent a tiny smile from touching his lips. “Jaymes, I’m working. Did you show up for a booty call?”

“No.” I bite the inside of my cheek. “Yes.”

He scrubs his hands over his face, but no amount of scrubbing can erase his inflated grin.

“I’m kidding.”

I’m 100 percent not kidding.

With a manufactured smile, I pull back my shoulders. “Maren’s birthday is this weekend. She has to work but thinks she’ll be home Sunday afternoon. I’m going to make her a German chocolate cake. Her favorite. Do you think we should do anything else for her?”

“What about sex?” he says.

I shake my head. “I don’t think she wants that for her birthday. Or are you saying you and Maren should have sex for her birthday? Or all three of us? At that point, it seems unfair to leave Will out of it. Are you thinking of a full-on orgy?” I nod past him. “Maybe check with Gary and Evette. Oh Lord, you can’t forget Mrs. Wilke.”

Fitz rubs his fingers across his lips and glances over his shoulder toward Gary and the rookies running drills. “Jaymes?”

“Yeah?”

“Get the fuck out of here.”

When he faces me again, we share identical grins. I step closer to him. I shouldn’t. Anyone can see that I’m in his space in a way that a friend would not be.

“I will have a life, and it will be phenomenal. I will find him , and he will be mine. And to do that, I have to let you go.” My gaze climbs up his chest to his face—his oh-so-heartbreaking face. “But I’m okay with you never letting me go. I hope you think back to this moment when your life feels lonely. And if you only remember one thing, let it be this. On a random Wednesday, the world’s most fascinating woman stopped by your work and offered you sex. But you turned her down.”

I could get lost in his expression. It’s a new one. I’d say it’s something between shock and awe. He reaches for my face, and for a moment, I think he will kiss me right here for everyone to see. I prepare my foolish heart for the explosion of joy from such a public declaration.

But he doesn’t cup my cheek, the back of my neck, or my head.

“Ouch!” I flinch when he plucks a hair from my scalp.

He holds it between us. “For my scrapbook.” His other hand unbuttons the pocket on the leg of his cargo pants, and he deposits my hair in it before securing the button and tossing me a smile that can only be described as wicked pride. “Now I’ll never be lonely.”

When the shock subsides, I reach into my purse without taking my eyes off Fitz. “Here. You don’t need an appointment. We take walk-ins.” I hand him Dr. Reichart’s business card.

He reads it and grins. “Carrot.”

“Carrot?”

Slipping the card into his back pocket, he glances around at nothing in particular. “Maren’s favorite cake is carrot.”

“I thought it was—”

He turns and saunters back toward the field. “German chocolate is my favorite cake. And I love that you want to please me on a subconscious level. Maybe you should talk to Dr. Reichart about that .”