Page 17 of Hot Shot


  She doesn’t look up from her crochet. “Where?”

  I feel kind of bad since she doesn’t do needlework much anymore because of her arthritis and is always taking advantage of it on days she feels good.

  “Never mind. I don’t want to get in the way of what you’re doing.”

  She puts it down and looks up at me. “To be honest, it’s starting to burn. I was just hoping I could push through it.” She gets up. “I’ll go anywhere with you, sweetheart.”

  Minutes later we’re both in the car, the radio is playing the CBC talk show that she likes, and I’m driving us around town. She’s taking in the beautiful fall foliage, lost in the gregarious voice of the late Stuart MacLean telling one of his stories. It’s such a nice moment, I almost don’t want to ruin it.

  “Listen, mom,” I tell her.

  “Are you happy?” she asks me suddenly.

  “What? Where did that come from?”

  She glances at me, her eyes bright and curious and just a little sheepish at the bluntness of her question. “I worry about you Delilah.”

  “I know. And we’ve been over this.”

  “Looking around at this town, I can’t help but wonder…what is there here for you? Don’t you want more than this town can give you?”

  This really isn’t how I wanted this to start off. “I have everything I need here. I have my friends, I have you, I have the bar.”

  “And love?”

  My mother knows about Fox and I hooking up, thanks to Riley and crew at the wedding, but even so, she hasn’t asked too much about him. She knows that if there is something to say I will talk about it in some way. Though she hasn’t said as much, I do get the impression that she greatly disapproves, probably because she knows how much is at stake personally for me.

  Oh boy, is that about to change.

  “Look,” I tell her, taking one of the roads that lead up to a mountain viewpoint, “this is a conversation for another time.”

  “Because you don’t know how you feel about things?”

  “Because things have changed. And yes, okay, so I have been wondering lately if this is all there is to life. To my life. To stay here and keep on doing the same thing and never discovering whether there’s more out there. I’m not saying you can’t live a rich and fulfilling life in a small town, especially the same one you grew up in. Maybe those lives are more fulfilling than most. The sense of, you know, community and all that. But I just don’t know if I would end up finding something that soothes my soul out there, far away from this place.”

  She watches me carefully and then nods. “I just wondered. Wanted to hear it from you.”

  “Well what about you then?”

  “Oh no,” she says with a dismissive shake of her head. “This is about you. And while we’re on the subject of you, how is Fox? How is that going? You said things have changed? All I know is that damn boy better start paying you for taking care of that squirrel.”

  I laugh. “Ah shit, that reminds me. We better stop by his place and feed him.”

  “Who, Fox or the squirrel?”

  “Very funny.”

  Still, I bring the car to the view point and, as we’re leaning against the guardrail, the wind in our hair bringing the scent of pine and snow from some faraway mountain top, I turn to her and say, “I’m pregnant.”

  Like Rachel, she appears to be stunned by the news.

  And then…

  She shrugs.

  She just fucking shrugs.

  “What?!” I exclaim. “Why are you shrugging?”

  I didn’t expect her to freak out, but I didn’t expect her to be all “meh” either.

  “Delilah, you think I didn’t know?” she says, chuckling to herself. “A mother knows everything.”

  “Mom. There is no way you could have known.”

  “Oh please. You were sick and I knew. I can tell. Mothers can tell. I was just waiting for you to tell me.” She pauses, a small smile on her lips. “Also, Anita Chang was at the doctor’s and told me she saw you there. Looking nervous. I just put two and two together.”

  Shit. That’s the problem with small towns, everyone else knows your damn business. I saw Anita too, one of my mother’s friends, but I thought maybe I was being overly suspicious.

  My mother puts her hand over mine. “I’m not going to tell you how to live your life. I haven’t been very good at making decisions, especially when it comes to love and men. You know your father had some good qualities and that’s why I chose to stay with him, because I wanted to believe the good ones outweighed the bad. They didn’t and he left, and I have a million regrets, but I never regretted having you. I know you and Fox aren’t together, but I have faith that this might be the thing that will make him realize what you mean to him.”

  “Isn’t that selfish though?” I ask quietly, my eyes following a raven that has left the branch of a fir and is gliding down the mountain slope and over the valley. “To want that from Fox when I’m pregnant. Shouldn’t that go on the backburner?”

  She sighs, giving me the look that says I just don’t understand anything. And I’m starting to think I don’t. “You can have a baby without love. But for that baby’s sake, you need to strive for it. You need to try. It’s as important as the air we breathe, as important as anything else. A child should be a product of love, it’s the greatest gift of all.”

  All her words don’t change a thing for me, even if I agree with them. They don’t make it easier, less scary, or less complicated. In fact, if I didn’t have feelings for Fox, it would be easier. If I didn’t love him and he chose not to be a part of the child’s life, I would be disappointed, but not heartbroken. If he did choose to take part, then I would be grateful for the support. But when it comes to love…

  I’m still mulling that over when we get back in the car and I drive down the hill, and I guess because Fox is on my mind, we end up driving past his place. He hadn’t texted me back today so I’m not sure where he is, so I probably should go feed Conan and pay him a visit. My mother can stay in the car since she thinks the whole wild animal thing is strange.

  But when I pull down Fox’s street, I see a car pull out of his driveway.

  “He must be home early,” my mom says.

  But it isn’t Fox’s Jeep that’s leaving his house.

  It’s a red Mini Cooper.

  Driven by a blonde woman with a pixie haircut.

  She waves at me uneasily as she goes past.

  “Oh my god,” I whisper, feeling rage start to boil up inside me. Somehow I manage to keep everything under control until I’m close to his place.

  I see him walk into his house, shutting the door behind him.

  Fox is home.

  Either he just got home and she dropped him off (from where?) or he was home already and she came over for a visit but…

  Julie was over at Fox’s.

  Fox is home already.

  And he didn’t even tell me.

  “Delilah,” my mom says quietly. “You don’t know the facts. Don’t jump to any conclusions.”

  But how can I not?

  I quickly drive past, hoping he doesn’t look out his window and spot my car, and then head back home.

  My knuckles are white from gripping the steering wheel.

  My heart feels like it’s been pricked with a million needles, over and over again.

  14

  Fox

  The body is something that’s constantly keeping score. You might think you’re young enough that it’s on your side, think you can get away with some things, might think you can even trick it. Part of the problem is that your body will go along with you too, it will let you think that you can just push and push and push and it will take it.

  But it won’t do it for long.

  After three weeks away fighting two different fires, being spiked out more often than not, I pushed my body to the limit. I survived on little sleep, on not enough food, I lost ten pounds, I rubbed my eyes until they bled
and inhaled smoke until I was sure I’d never breathe properly again. I watched countless forests burn and burn, had a million close calls. I did it over and over again because I had to. I had to survive and adrenaline dragged me along.

  But even on the bus ride back from California, when the fight was over, sleep didn’t come for me. I thought maybe it never would. That long monotonous journey on the I-5 sitting back in my seat, head against the window and trying to nod off, all I could think about was Del. I’m pretty sure I thought about her in a million different ways.

  I’d missed her more this time than any other time. When I had to rise from the dirty ground at five a.m. and everything hurt, I’d think about her smile, the way it feels like it’s shooting joy right into you, like sunbeams to your heart. When I watched deer running from the forest, smoke billowing off of them, I’d think about her laugh, how loud and freeing it is, the kind of laugh that makes you laugh in return. When I set fire to the back burn and my ears roared with the fire’s rage, I’d think about her eyes and the way she looks at me sometimes.

  Sometimes she looks at me like I’m her king.

  There is no better feeling in the world than that.

  The only problem is, I know I don’t deserve it.

  And as much fun as it is to be with Del, I’m not sure how long it can keep going on as it is. I don’t want to think too much about it, about what we’re doing. I can’t imagine stopping and going back to the way things were but I know it’s probably the smartest thing to do. The last thing I want is for Del to develop feelings for me, feelings that will get us both in trouble, especially because I don’t know where I stand.

  I should know where I stand. But I don’t.

  Or maybe I’d rather be forever confused, in limbo, because the longer you’re in that state, then you don’t have to make any decisions and nothing can be your fault.

  And that’s what my mind was running over the entire ride back to North Ridge. How much I love being with Del, how good the sex is, how badly I want to rush back into her arms, throw her on my bed and have my way with her. Feel that peace she gives me, that rush of contentment that no one else can, that nothing else can.

  And I’d also think about how ill-equipped I am to deal with a relationship, especially me, especially with my job. I know, at least I hope to god, that if we do break things off and go back to being friends, that we can do so like nothing happened. I just know that if we became something serious, and then broke up, there would be no fixing us.

  I would lose her forever.

  We’ve known each other almost our whole lives and it would be gone.

  No more future in our friendship.

  I can’t imagine a life without Del in it.

  Back and forth, back and forth my mind raged, being sweet on the present and worrying about the future, until finally I was dropped off at my house and then, then it all hit me at once.

  My body finally gave up. I had plans, I wanted to text Del and tell her I was home but I couldn’t even pick up my phone and dial. My brain started to disconnect and the moment I got into the house, I collapsed on the couch.

  I was in deep sleep for the night and then into the next day. Like I was in a fucking coma. I couldn’t wake up even if I tried.

  It was a knock at my door that somehow managed to rouse me. When I finally got up and looked at the clock in the kitchen, it was already the afternoon the next day.

  I automatically assumed it was Del at the door, though since she had been taking care of Conan daily, she probably would have walked right in. She didn’t even know I was home yet.

  To my surprise it was Julie.

  With a bottle of whisky.

  It was like an angel appeared at my door since my house was completely dry and I didn’t have the strength to go out and get any.

  She’d said she saw the bus come into town last night and wanted to offer me a token of appreciation for all my hard work. Said that the local paper had even done a story about us and Roy dying and the fires we’ve been fighting non-stop and she felt bad that I was having to go through all of that.

  I think she just felt guilty for dumping me like she did. It was so long ago, or at least feels that way now. Either way, it doesn’t really matter. Even though I had hopes for the two of us, now that I’m with Del, being with Julie again isn’t on my radar.

  Still, I invited her inside and we both sat on the couch and had a glass of whisky. I was still a bit out of it so I didn’t do much talking—not that I do anyway— and she went on about her job at the high school, and how she’s fitting into the town and that sort of thing.

  It was completely innocent but I still felt a strange cloud of guilt over me. Maybe it was because I hadn’t contacted Del yet and I already had Julie in my house. I know that Del and I are just fooling around and it’s nothing serious—we haven’t talked about being exclusive, though I think it’s because it’s assumed—but it still felt wrong.

  And yet I had Julie over anyway and even had a glass of whisky with her. I don’t know what my problem is but then again, I never have.

  After she left, I texted Del to let her know that I was back in town but Del didn’t respond which was odd. So I decided to have some more whisky.

  That’s where I’m at right now.

  The whisky stage.

  But I’ve sat on this couch for too long and I’m starting to see those flames creep up behind my eyes, feel the smoldering blackness building inside my soul. It happens slowly sometimes, catching you off-guard, sneaking up on you. I should have seen it coming, predicted it. This almost always happens when I return from a brutal shift and even though that was probably my last deployment for the year, it did its number on me.

  If I was a better man I would have better ways to cope with this. To cope with everything that I am. I’d go to a counsellor, for one. Hell, majority of the guys on my team go to one to try and cope with the demands of the job, the things they’ve seen. A few of the smart ones do yoga, eat healthy, meditate, find ways to cope with the stress. Almost everyone is medicated. I was for my stress headaches until my doctor decided to cut me off, leaving me to get my pills via other ways.

  And me, I just choose to wallow in it because that’s all I’ve ever known. And sometimes I’m not just wallowing in it, sometimes I’m being swallowed whole.

  I’m out of pain meds now. All the bottles and baggies are empty. I could just sit here drinking but the house seems to be getting smaller, the walls closing in. I need the weight to lift, the sky to open. I need peace. I need to feel nothing.

  I contemplate going by The Bear Trap to say hi to Del, but I feel like I might not be welcome. I don’t know why really, maybe because she still hasn’t texted me back. I should probably ask her about Conan, I really would have thought she would have come by today to feed him, but I guess if she got my text and saw I was home, there was no need for it.

  She just saw my text and didn’t respond.

  Before I have a chance to stew on it anymore, I get in my Jeep and roar toward Ravenswood Ranch. My father hurt his hip earlier this year after he fell from his horse and though he’s almost fully healed, I know he was given a fuckload of drugs to help him manage the pain. I also know that because my father is such a hardass, he didn’t rely on the pills for too long, so he might have some left over.

  I haven’t told anyone that I’m back in town yet, so I’m hoping that I’ll be able to get into the house without much fuss. It’s seven o’ clock at night which means there’s a good chance that my father and Shane are out at the cattle barn sorting through hay. Fall is a busy time, especially when the threat of snow is around the corner. There’s always my grandfather to think about, but more often than not he’s sleeping on the couch with a glass of whisky in hand and as spritely as he is, he’s not one to pry too much, at least not with my life.

  But when I carefully open the door and step inside the house, I see Shane in the kitchen drinking a glass of water, dressed like some grunge cowboy in ba
ttered jeans and a dusty, faded flannel shirt.

  Great.

  “You’re back,” he says to me in a strained voice. He looks like he’s seen a ghost.

  “Yeah,” I say, stopping in the middle of the living room. “Where’s dad and grandpa?”

  He finishes his water, swallowing it down, his eyes studying me carefully. “Dad’s down at the barn, Gramps is at the grocery store with Vernalee. Why? When did you get back?”

  I’m not sure what it is about his tone that I don’t like but I don’t like it.

  “No reason. And I got back last night.”

  “Have you talked to Del?”

  I frown. “Why would I talk to Del?”

  He shrugs, rinses out the glass in the sink. “No reason other than the fact that you always talk to Del.”

  I narrow my eyes at him. I don’t like his tone, I don’t like him mentioning Del. In fact, I hate the fact that everyone knows about us. I’ve had to endure so much ribbing and speculation from my brothers for years about our relationship and now that it’s actually become the damn thing they’d been harassing me about, I feel like I’m unable to live it down.

  I know I shouldn’t blame Del for telling people but I wish she’d kept quiet about it. But maybe it’s my fault for not facing it head on and having a discussion about it before it was too late.

  “Are you okay?” Shane asks. “You seem edgy.”

  “You try battling a couple of monstrous forest fires non-stop for three weeks and see how you feel,” I snap. “Makes your prancing around the ranch look like kid playing with their ponies.”

  It’s hard to get under Shane’s skin. This is probably why he aggravates me so much, he just is so fucking noble and austere that he never lets anything get to him. And he thinks of me as someone lesser than him, that I know for sure.

  He rolls his eyes slightly. “Sorry for being concerned.”

  “Yeah, concerned,” I repeat slowly, turning around and heading up the stairs.

  “Where are you going?” he asks after me.

  I don’t bother responding. Not sure when Shane decided he was in charge of the damn place but last I checked this wasn’t his ranch, nor was this his house. Until our father is gone, it all equally belongs to all of us and not just Shane because he’s the rancher around here and the apple of my father’s eye.