“Copy that. Fielder out.” Chase cupped Lily’s elbow and drew her an inch or two closer. “Lily, if I need to go, there’s no telling when I’ll be back.”

“I can wait,” Lily said quickly.

“No, that’s not what I mean.” Chase shook her head. Lily had spoken quickly, no doubt meaning what she said, but she didn’t know what they might be facing. Chase forced a smile she didn’t feel. “You’ve got responsibilities elsewhere, and I could be gone a week or two. I want you to know that I get how important your work is, not just to you, but to the patients you take care of. I think you’re an amazing woman. I think what you’ve done for thousands of people, who don’t even know it, is incredible.” Her throat tightened and she swallowed. She was out of time, and she needed to say this. “And for me, Lily. Thank you for this summer.”

Lily drew in a slow deep breath and held Chase’s gaze. “I don’t want it to end like this, but if it does, you need to know I—”

Chase’s radio blared. “This is District Supervisor Natalie Evans. This is an all call. We have an unprescribed burn cresting Eagle Ridge. Ground teams from Bolton Fire, Lake George Fire, and Ticonderoga Fire Rangers responding. All district five officers report to the station for briefing and deployment. I repeat, all call.”

“That’s me,” Chase said. “I’ve got to go, Lily.”

“You be careful,” Lily said, gripping Chase’s shirt with one hand. “Do not take any chances.”

Chase knew this might be the last time they were together, and she didn’t care who was watching. She pulled Lily close and kissed her. Lily leaned into her, returning her kiss with a fierceness that flamed Chase’s senses. Cradling Lily’s cheek in her palm, Chase drew in the scent of her, absorbing the sweet and tangy taste that ran like life over her tongue. When she drew back, her body quivered. “You too, Lily. Be careful down there.”

Chase turned and took the steps down the middle tower without looking back.

* * *

Lily quickly crossed to the far side of the platform and watched Chase’s figure disappear down the trail and kept watching for long seconds after she’d disappeared. What had just happened? She understood emergencies, of course—the stat page that terminated conversations midsentence or the phone call that interrupted an intimate moment one too many times, putting an end to any chance of another evening with that person. Events that demanded whatever personal pleasure or problem of the moment be set aside to allow the gears to shift, the mind to focus, and the job to come first.