Ignite (Firefighters of Montana Book 3) (15 page)

“I know you. I do. And I…” Christ, he couldn’t tell her he loved her for the first time here, now, when he was likely looking at the end. He…envied her certainty, the way she bulldozed through things. He appreciated that about her, but he didn’t know…

She couldn’t win on this. It was too deep, too ingrained, this cut. Even if Jess could forgive him, he didn’t deserve it, and for some reason… Even with his life completely changed, he feared it wasn’t good enough for his sister.

But it is for Lina?

“I could… I wouldn’t…” She furrowed her brow as if trying to come up with an argument, but if she was trying, she was failing.

“Lina, you have to understand. I cut ties for a reason, and those reasons still stand.”

She stepped forward again, and he didn’t move back like he wanted to, but the minute she reached out to touch him he knew he’d need to step away. He’d have to leave. They had come to an impassable roadblock, and there was no fighting through it.

Clarks didn’t fight.

“Please don’t do this,” she said on an impassioned whisper. “Please.”

“We should have never pretended.”

A tear rolled down her cheek as she closed her eyes. “No, maybe not. But I have to tell her. If you don’t tell her, I have to. You don’t understand what she… She’s the only friend I ever had before here. And I…” More tears rolled down her cheeks and it cracked him in half. “I betrayed her, ignoring this, and I can’t…”

“You do what you have to do, and so will I.”

Her mouth flattened, and though everything about her was still sad and hurt, there was a note of steel to her expression. “You
have
to come talk to her before you jump into a dangerous situation. You can’t turn your back on her like this.”

“But I always have.”

Somehow Lina’s sharp intake of breath lanced through him, painful and deadly. But it was true. This was all true. Might as well vomit all the truth out there. “I have hidden from her for almost a decade.”

“Why?”

“Does it matter?” How could it matter now? How could
why
matter? He’d done it. The action was what mattered—that was all that had ever mattered to the people around him.

“Knowing you? Yeah, I’d say it does.”

“You don’t know me, Lina. You know Ace.” His fiction. Maybe it had felt like the truth with her, but it hadn’t been.

“Which I’d venture to say is the real you.”

He squeezed his eyes shut because that serious, no-nonsense delivery of what he wanted to believe slashed through him like a burn. He wanted it to be true, but he knew… “I can’t escape who I really am.”

“Then you can’t escape your sister.”

“It’s not escape,” he returned. Never in his life has his determination been so shaky, and yet, he’d built his life around it not being an escape. So it had to be what he’d always made it out to be, didn’t it? “It’s protecting.”

“It’s cowardly bullshit,” she all but spat, her patience with him clearly done.

Good. He couldn’t take much more patience, much more of her wanting him to be someone he couldn’t be. “Yeah,” he managed with a wry twist of his mouth. “That too.”

“Don’t do this,” she whispered, her fingers curling into a fist. “We could still…”

“No, Lina,
we
can’t anything.” It killed him to say it, but he’d spent two months ignoring the truth, ignoring who he really was. Okay, maybe he’d spent a lifetime doing that. But it didn’t change the fact it was what he had to do.

He forced himself to turn away from her. “I have to go.”

“You’re making a mistake,” she called after him, her voice a determined, forceful thing. Nothing in his life had ever made him wonder if he was wrong—about himself, about his running—not one thing up until this moment and her voice and
Lina
. He actually paused in his tracks, wondering…

But why would she know better than him? This woman who came from everything, who was smarter than a whip—certainly smarter than him. What would she know about being bad news, about being better off far, far away from the people who cared about him?

“Ace…Dean. We can fix this. We can…”

He knew she was waiting for him to make a move. For him to turn around and agree, or maybe to keep walking—except he doubted Lina was entertaining the thought he’d walk. No, Lina was sure when she was sure, and he loved that about her.

But that was exactly why he had to walk away, so he put one foot forward, and then another, until he could disappear into the parts of the building she couldn’t follow.

But her parting shot followed him everywhere.

“I
love
you.”

It spurred his feet to run that much farther away.

L
ina was crying,
which was something she did not often allow herself to do if at all. It was just all so fruitlessly stupid. Why had she ever thought it would turn out any differently? She’d barely been the kind of woman men fell for, why would she expect to be the kind of woman who would make a man change?

Because obviously Ace had his reasons for donning a whole other personality. For years.
Years
. And she thought she’d waltz in and he’d just…give in?

She gripped the steering wheel harder, trying to blink rapidly enough the falling tears didn’t mess with her vision as she drove back to her apartment.

She’d only ever said ‘I love you’ to Jess, at a particular crappy moment when it felt like her family had been falling apart. But McArthurs didn’t say things like ‘I love you’—certainly not to each other. So, she’d never uttered those words aloud to her parents or her brothers.

She’d pushed those feelings down, certain they were a weakness.

Then she’d finally embraced love and…he’d walked away.

So, maybe she’d used love a little like a weapon, but he hadn’t even
paused.
In fact, he’d walked faster.

And that… It didn’t just hurt—hurt was such a little, passive word. No, him
running
from her admission—an admission that
cost
her some damn pride—it eviscerated. Even knowing running was what he did.

That wasn’t even the worst part. Because if he’d listened, if he’d agreed to come with her, if he’d done anything but ruthlessly and quickly walk away from her, they might have been able to put all these messed up pieces together.

Now it was just her. Her. Her facing Jess, and the truth, and the fact she’d lost the man she loved, and was probably about to lose the love of her best friend, who’d been the only one to show her warmth and…

She let out a string of curse words that ended on a sob, but as she pulled her car into her apartment complex’s parking lot, she took a series of deep breaths to get herself together.

Losing Ace was…well, it sucked, but that was on him and his baggage they’d never discussed. So, maybe it was on her, too, for letting things slide.

Because he’d been the first person to show an interest in her, to seek her out, to seem to…appreciate her for who she was, and so she’d been afraid to push. Afraid to be her normal demanding, inflexible self, because then he might leave.

God, she’d been desperate, and it made the guilt at not telling Jess that much worse. It made the feeling of stupidity and despair at telling him she loved him of all damn things that much more horrible.

But she had brought this all upon herself. Choice by choice, decision by decision, and it was time to face the music and accept the fallout.

She trudged up the stairs to her apartment, fingering her keys. She stood staring at her apartment door and for one second thought about running. About following Ace’s example and just…leaving.
Not
facing the people she loved or what she had to do, what they deserved.

But it was only a minute, because everything inside of her rebelled against escape. She had been pretending for months and in the moment it had worked, but the minute she’d been forced to accept it couldn’t go on forever, she’d known what she had to do—the only choice she could make.

So, she unlocked the door and stepped inside. Jess and Cole were curled up on her couch watching TV, and it sent a nasty pang through Lina. Her days of that were over.

They should have never begun.

Jess’s gaze met hers and then she frowned, sliding off the couch. “Okay, you have seriously got to tell us what’s wrong.” Jess took her hands and pulled Lina onto the couch. “Sit. Spill.”

She had to. She knew she had to. She glanced at her brother, the quiet concern its own force behind Jess. Then Jess herself all worried determination that she would listen to Lina’s problem.

Except Jess didn’t know the problem involved her. Jess had no clue the problem involved her missing brother.

Lina felt the tears well up all over again, so she forced herself to speak. To get it out. She had to rip off the bandage before she lost whatever last dregs of fortitude she had left.

“I…I know where…” She closed her eyes, squeezed Jess’s hands tight. Jess deserved this, and if Lina was torn apart in the process, it was only her due for pretending like it didn’t matter for so long. She forced her gaze to meet Jess’s, to say the words clearly. “I know where your brother is.”

“What?” Jess’s blue eyes widened. “Dean?”

Lina swallowed and forced herself to be brave, to take the punishment she deserved by looking Jess right in the eye. “We’ve been…dating, sort of.”

Jess’s forehead scrunched together and she looked at Lina as though she’d suddenly started speaking a foreign language. “I don’t…understand.”

“He…A few months ago, he came into the ER. Just a mild concussion and he was under the name Ace Clark, but…when he saw
my
last name… I don’t know, I just got the feeling he was your Dean.”

“My…Dean. The Dean I’ve been… I’ve been searching for for…years.
Years
.” Jess still seemed more baffled than hurt, so Lina pressed on.

“I… Anyway, I thought I’d try to find out if it really was him, only I… I fell in love with him instead, and pretended. I pretended he was Ace because I wanted him for myself, and I’ll never be able to tell you how sorry I am.”

Jess was silent and she’d paled considerably. “Where is he?”

Lina had never heard that voice from Jess, and it didn’t go beyond her notice that Jess pulled her hand from Lina’s. That she leaned away and back into Cole, looking at Lina with a wariness she’d seen people give her father when he was being particularly overbearing or cruel.

Yeah, she’d always known she was a McArthur through and through, hadn’t she? Overbearing and cold and cruel.

“He’s a smokejumper, and there’s a wildfire and—” The horrified look on Jess’s face made Lina stop.

But Jess was too smart, too quick. “You told him though. He knew I was here, and he… He’s doing that instead?”

“It’s his job.”

“But he chose that. Over facing me.”

Lina couldn’t argue with her, but new tears formed and threatened as Jess stood and walked away from her. Lina turned to Cole, but he looked as shell-shocked as Jess had.

But Cole stood and followed Jess. He stood behind her and slid his arms around her, held her to the broad plane of his chest. He held Jess, murmured something.

Exactly the way Ace hadn’t when Lina had faced him. Ace had walked away, run more aptly, as she’d bared her soul in the best most direct way she knew how.

He’d run.

Which meant… He didn’t feel it at all, did he? Whatever he felt, it was different. Because Cole would never run from…

Lina scrubbed her hands over her chest. Actually Cole
had
run from Jess, years ago. But they’d been teenagers and Lina didn’t know how much she could draw a corollary, how much she could allow herself to hope.

“I need to…I have to get out of here,” Jess whispered, more to Cole than to Lina. All to Cole. Because this was it. She had irrevocably broken Jess’s care, the first and strongest friendship Lina had ever managed.

She couldn’t even blame Ace…Dean…whoever he was. How could she? He’d wanted to tell her. She
knew
that was what he’d been about to tell her after they’d slept together for the first time. But she’d known if he told her, if he said the words, she would have had to have this moment then.

She hadn’t wanted that. So, she’d done what
she
wanted, put herself above her friends. She had embraced the McArthur way, putting her own wants and desires above everyone else’s. Maybe not purposefully, just…self-absorbed. So wrapped up in herself she hadn’t worried about how it hurt other people.

Jess and Cole walked out of her apartment, only Cole giving her an over-the-shoulder look.

“We’ll be back,” he murmured, his tone gentle, though she didn’t deserve it.

The door closed, and she was alone, because that was exactly what she did deserve.

*

Tensions were high.
Long before Ace jumped, beyond the sort of soul-deep pain Lina had inflicted upon him, the air had changed.

This wasn’t an average wildfire, and the first squadron of jumpers hadn’t made any headway.

Now, it was his group’s turn, and there was a certain grimness in the plane that normally would have been lightened by a joke or a story. Usually, he’d be the one to do it, but he didn’t have it in him. Not today.