was, hers was just as intense for hers, and she wouldn’t leave her father.
In a place that had always brought me so much loss, I couldn’t help but wonder if the biggest heartache was yet to come.
“Me, too, baby.”
* * *
T he ceremony was somber . Bishop and I took the wreath up for our father, and then placed it at the new memorial where it stood with seventeen others.
Ten years later, and I still missed him like hell.
He’d been larger than life, a force of nature. In so many ways Bishop was just like him, but the years of raising me had hardened him in ways Dad hadn’t been. Where Dad was optimistic, Bishop saw the pitfalls of everything. Where Dad loved Mom with the same kind of intensity I felt for Avery, Bishop held himself away from everyone who could leave.
As I looked around at the other Legacy kids, the ones who had grown up without their dads or mom, I realized that the casualties of that day were far more reaching than the firefighters laid to rest in Aspen Cemetery.
The entire town had lost. Homes, businesses, and memories were ash by the time the fire had finished with us, but it always felt like we had lost a little more. We took our seats, and the bells rang—one for each loss, each sacrifice, each choice that had been made the day they headed up Legacy Mountain with the odds and the weather against them.
Avery took my hand, steadying me like always. I concentrated on the feeling of her fingers with mine and tried to keep the memories at bay. But the harshest ones fought through—the order for evacuation, the way he’d held us, kissed our mother. The way he’d told Bishop to keep me out of trouble while he was gone.
My resolve sharpened with each bell. The council could be afraid of the liability of having another Hotshot crew. They could deny us the Legacy name, and they could claim it was to salvage the tender hearts of this town.
But the Legacy crew had been family, and damn it, we were getting it back.
As the ceremony cleared out, the sixteen of us stood in a line facing the monument, from the youngest kid, Violet, who had never met her father, to the oldest, Shane Winston, who’d been away at college when it happened.
Those who wouldn’t be joining us on the crew—the ones who were too young or who had no interest in firefighting—left, until it was just those of us who were.
“Are you sure about this?” Bash asked, Emerson by his side. Time had turned the dark-haired, reckless guy into a hell of a stubborn man.
I looked around as we all nodded.
“They’re going to fight us tooth and nail,” he warned. “They don’t want this. They’re terrified of what could happen.” He looked pointedly at our youngest members who couldn’t be older than twenty.
“We’re with you, Bash,” Bishop answered from next to me. “They’re not taking this from us.”
“We’re with you,” we all agreed.
Avery’s soft smile was forced as I looked down at her, and I sent up a fervent prayer that she would stay, because I knew in that moment there was no way I could leave.
10
Avery
“ S o which one is that ?” I asked Harper as we looked over the packed clubhouse.
The Legacy crew had gotten their needed numbers, and the council had begrudgingly approved the team after Spencer—the only surviving member of the original team—showed up and agreed to lead them.
“That’s Ryker,” Harper answered. “He’s my brother.”
“Right,” I said, trying to remember names with faces. “And the one standing next to River is Bash.”
“Yup. Sebastian Vargas, but everyone’s called him Bash since he was little. And Emerson is the brunette standing next to him. She’s my best friend.”
“Too many names,” I muttered.
She laughed and took a sip of her beer. “You’ll figure it out. Don’t worry. The crew is a giant family. We’re together a lot, so you’ll learn.”
If I’m here.
The longer we were here, the more I wanted to—hell, needed to. I loved everything
In a place that had always brought me so much loss, I couldn’t help but wonder if the biggest heartache was yet to come.
“Me, too, baby.”
* * *
T he ceremony was somber . Bishop and I took the wreath up for our father, and then placed it at the new memorial where it stood with seventeen others.
Ten years later, and I still missed him like hell.
He’d been larger than life, a force of nature. In so many ways Bishop was just like him, but the years of raising me had hardened him in ways Dad hadn’t been. Where Dad was optimistic, Bishop saw the pitfalls of everything. Where Dad loved Mom with the same kind of intensity I felt for Avery, Bishop held himself away from everyone who could leave.
As I looked around at the other Legacy kids, the ones who had grown up without their dads or mom, I realized that the casualties of that day were far more reaching than the firefighters laid to rest in Aspen Cemetery.
The entire town had lost. Homes, businesses, and memories were ash by the time the fire had finished with us, but it always felt like we had lost a little more. We took our seats, and the bells rang—one for each loss, each sacrifice, each choice that had been made the day they headed up Legacy Mountain with the odds and the weather against them.
Avery took my hand, steadying me like always. I concentrated on the feeling of her fingers with mine and tried to keep the memories at bay. But the harshest ones fought through—the order for evacuation, the way he’d held us, kissed our mother. The way he’d told Bishop to keep me out of trouble while he was gone.
My resolve sharpened with each bell. The council could be afraid of the liability of having another Hotshot crew. They could deny us the Legacy name, and they could claim it was to salvage the tender hearts of this town.
But the Legacy crew had been family, and damn it, we were getting it back.
As the ceremony cleared out, the sixteen of us stood in a line facing the monument, from the youngest kid, Violet, who had never met her father, to the oldest, Shane Winston, who’d been away at college when it happened.
Those who wouldn’t be joining us on the crew—the ones who were too young or who had no interest in firefighting—left, until it was just those of us who were.
“Are you sure about this?” Bash asked, Emerson by his side. Time had turned the dark-haired, reckless guy into a hell of a stubborn man.
I looked around as we all nodded.
“They’re going to fight us tooth and nail,” he warned. “They don’t want this. They’re terrified of what could happen.” He looked pointedly at our youngest members who couldn’t be older than twenty.
“We’re with you, Bash,” Bishop answered from next to me. “They’re not taking this from us.”
“We’re with you,” we all agreed.
Avery’s soft smile was forced as I looked down at her, and I sent up a fervent prayer that she would stay, because I knew in that moment there was no way I could leave.
10
Avery
“ S o which one is that ?” I asked Harper as we looked over the packed clubhouse.
The Legacy crew had gotten their needed numbers, and the council had begrudgingly approved the team after Spencer—the only surviving member of the original team—showed up and agreed to lead them.
“That’s Ryker,” Harper answered. “He’s my brother.”
“Right,” I said, trying to remember names with faces. “And the one standing next to River is Bash.”
“Yup. Sebastian Vargas, but everyone’s called him Bash since he was little. And Emerson is the brunette standing next to him. She’s my best friend.”
“Too many names,” I muttered.
She laughed and took a sip of her beer. “You’ll figure it out. Don’t worry. The crew is a giant family. We’re together a lot, so you’ll learn.”
If I’m here.
The longer we were here, the more I wanted to—hell, needed to. I loved everything
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