I called Watts, but he didn’t answer. His voicemail greeting was new, now saying he was in Estes Park. Of course. It’s May. Fire season.

With a full tank of gas, I set off from the Springs and drove all the way to Estes Park and into the Rocky Mountain National Forest until I found the duty station and barracks, or whatever the hell they called; the huge shit brown dorm they lived in when they weren’t out fighting fires.

They were doing drills and only stopped for a few minutes while Watts and Sugar answered my questions.

“He’s not here,” Watts said, deflated. He was soaked in sweat, filled out more than he was at the end of last year’s fire season. So was Sugar.

“Do you know where he is?” I asked.

“Last I knew, he was at the hotel. We had to report for duty today.”

I sighed, closed my eyes tight, then wiped my face in frustration. “He didn’t tell me,” I said.

“Tell you what?” Sugar asked.

“That today would have been his first day back if he wasn’t ... you know.”

Watts rubbed the back of his dirty, sweaty neck. “Because it wasn’t going to be, and he knew it. He’s been quietly spiraling, Naomi. Don’t feel bad. None of us could’ve done anything.”

“His phone is disconnected. Do you know anything about that?” I asked.

Watts and Sugar looked at each other, then back at me, shaking their heads.

“Damn it,” I said, turning to punch the air.

“He’ll come around,” Sugar said.

I hung my hands on top of my head again. “I don’t know. I don’t know if he will. What he hasn’t lost he threw away.”

The chief called Watts and Sugar back, so I waved goodbye. The FJ seemed lonelier when I hopped back in, so I buckled my seat belt and mentally prepared for the ride home. The drive was beautiful but long. The sun had already set behind the mountaintops. Soon, it would be dark, and I’d be alone with nothing to focus on but the road and my thoughts.

chapter thirty-six

animal

Naomi

“Y

ou look like shit,” Sloan said from across the table.

I poked my fork at the food on my plate, feeling bad that I had no intention of eating it. It had been nearly five weeks since Zeke left. I didn’t have his mother’s number, and Watts and the rest of the guys had been busy in California. I missed him. I missed him the way I missed Matt. Going home to an empty house was torture. My bed smelled like him for a while, breaking my heart all over again. After his scent went away, I cried myself to sleep every night for a week.