“Hazy!” I bark, slamming the tailgate shut. “Don’t need you home. Won’t make it in time. I need to know who’s managing right now. And do we have anyone on fire duty?”
She sucks in a sharp breath. “No. We had to let them go. Couldn’t afford the fire crew anymore.”
Fuck.
I yank the passenger door open and Georgia climbs in silently, her fingers already flying over her phone. She’s pale, lips pressed into a tight line, but she’s with me, ready for fuckin’ battle.
Ridge’s voice explodes in the background of Hazel's line—loud, angry, commanding. It’s oddly comforting. That prickly bastard might be impossible to deal with, but he knows how to run this place.
“Who’s on night watch?” I ask again, throwing myself behind the wheel.
“Ridge called Vander. We left him and Nev in charge tonight,” Hazel says, voice tight. “But they were at Saddle with everyone else.”
Of course they were. Drinking and dancing and well on their ways to fuckin’ instead of watching the damn property.
Swearing up a storm, I toss my hat into the back and rake a hand through my hair.
“I’m calling Summit Rural Fire,” I decide, mind already racing. “We need help.”
“Do it,” my sister barks, breathless. “We’re heading out now. Call the second you know more.”
“I will.”
Then I slam my phone into the cup holder, my foot hitting the gas so hard the tires spin before we launch forward down the hill, back toward the farm, back toward whatever the fuck is waiting for us.
“I got ahold of your mom,” Georgia rushes out, hand squeezing mine. “Everyone is safe. Aurora and your sisters are with her. She went outside to check and said the fire is…” She pauses, glancing at her phone. “She thinks it's somewhere near the north ridge. She couldn’t see clearly, but it looked close to the livestock paddock.”
“Fuck!” I shout, fingers tightening around the wheel. The truck slides in the mud, and I fight it, forcing myself to slow down. My pulse is thunder, but I keep my grip steady. “Baby, grab my phone. Need you to call for backup.”
By the time we pull onto the gravel road leading toward the heart of the property, I’m more collected than I was before. Maybe it’s knowing that no one I love is in danger. Maybe it’s the training or sheer survival instinct. Years in the Rangers taught me how to compartmentalize when shit hits the fan. Right now, my family needs that guy.
I park the truck a hundred or so feet from the blaze, the fire lighting up the night sky like a second sun. The equipment barn is a full inferno—red, orange, and violent. It's roaring, feedingon fuel and dry timber, and the wind is pushing those flames toward the horse barn.
Turning to Georgia, I pull her into me and kiss her hard, grounding myself in her even as the fire crackles in my periphery. She trembles against me, and my heart damn near shatters.
“Need you to go find my mom, darlin’. Need you to be with my family. Take care of Aurora. Can you do that for me?”
She pulls back, blinking fast, eyes flitting between the blaze and my face. “What? No. You c-can’t go in there. Absolutely not, Kade!”
I cup her face, forcing her to meet my eyes. “I can, baby. I’m trained. Volunteer for Summit County Fire Watch. Certified for rural wildfire containment. I’ve done this before. I have to.”
She sobs, low and guttural, fingers white-knuckled around mine. “Please don’t. Don’t go. I just… I just got you.” She sucks in a harsh breath that cracks something deep inside me. “D-don’tleaveme.”
I press my forehead to hers, forcing back the flood of emotion threatening to take me under. Her fear isn’t just about fire. It’s about abandonment. Loss. Being left behind.
Know that fear well. I’ve lived it too.
“I’m coming back,” I whisper. “You hear me? I’m not going anywhere. Not now. Not ever.”
I kiss her one more time and then nod toward the blaze.
“The equipment barn’s gone,” I say quietly. “But the horse barn’s only a few hundred feet away. And with the wind? The grass? That fire will leap in minutes if we don’t stop it. The others’ll be here soon. Ten, maybe less. But until then, it’s just me.”
She nods, eyes wide and glassy. “What do I do?”
“Go to the house. Find my mom. Get to Aurora. That’s your job. Our girl needs you.”
“Our…” she breathes, voice catching before she shakes herself hard. “Okay. I can do that. You can do this. We’re going to be fine.”
