Point of Origin (12 page)

“As I can be,” I answered.

He laughed. “I wasn’t asking you.”

Emerson swatted his shoulder. “I’m fine. Worry about your job.”

“All of my people are accounted for. Yours?”

She scanned the crowd and shook her head. “Shane Winston is missing.”

I cupped her face and kissed her softly. “Thank you for trying, but Shane was never going to show. He hates fire, and trees…and pretty much anything outside.”

“Shit,” she mumbled as Mayor Davis called us to order.

“Okay, okay, let’s get started,” He said into his microphone, his eyes relentlessly scanning the crowd. “We’re here for the matter of the petition by Legacy, LLC to reinstate the Legacy Hotshot Crew under the following conditions: the full salaries will be the responsibility of Legacy, LLC. The team will follow all federal guidelines to include eighty percent of the crew having at least a year of fire experience,” he turned the page of the petition. “And the town’s stipulation that sixty percent of the Legacy Crew would be blood of the original team, or legacies in name or birth.”

The crowd mumbled in dissent, and Mayor Davis cleared his throat. “Because this is such an emotional matter, we felt the need to really ensure the support of the families.”

“Support doesn’t have to be forcing your kids into a career they respect but never wanted,” one woman called out.

“Vicki Greene,” Emerson supplied.

“Chris Greene’s widow?”

She nodded as more complaints were vocalized.

“Now, now. It’s important to remember that Legacy, LLC agreed to these terms. We’re simply here to see if they’re in compliance.” Mayor Davis loosened his tie. “Are you ready Mr. Vargas?”

I buttoned my blazer as I stood, taking the podium and opening the manila folder Emerson handed me. She’d put all this together with Knox while I’d been on the job. If not for her, we wouldn’t have even made it this far.

It was time to see who put their money where their mouth was.

“There is one addendum to the agreement, but it doesn’t affect these proceedings,” I said.

“Go ahead.”

“Addressing the insurance and compensation paragraph of section fourteen, we’ve added that all crew members will be insured as full-time, no matter how many months of the year they actively serve. One man’s sacrifice during the summer as a firefighter should never be forgotten, nor his family penalized because he spent the other nine months of the year teaching Legacy’s children.”

A shout of approval went up behind me.

I didn’t care about the crowd. That wasn’t a change to appease the masses or gain the town’s support. It was to preemptively correct the wrong that had been handed to Emerson and her mother ten years ago when they’d been denied the payout the rest of the families had received.

“Accepted,” Mayor Davis agreed quietly.

One point down.

“I have seven non-legacy members, all with multiple years of wildland fire experience, whose names you will find at the end of the petition.”

“Those names are not a matter of our concern, Bash—Mr. Vargas,” Mayor Davis interjected.
Smart move, really, reminding me that to him, I’m just a kid.

“You can call me Bash,” I said with a laugh. “After all, I grew up here. I’m Legacy born and bred just like most of the town here supporting us. I’m blessed to have been successful in my finances, and my firefighting to make this possible, but I’m just the son of Julian Vargas when it comes down to it.”

Mayor Davis leaned back in his chair.

That shut the asshole up.

“Do you have your legacies in order?”

“If they’ll come stand next to me, I do. Knox Daniels,” I called out, and he stood at my right as always. “Ryker Anders,” and he took the left. Then one-by-one, as I called the names of the kids who I grew up with, they appeared as the adults next to me, ready to stand for our parents, our town, our heritage.

“Indigo Marshall, Lawson Woods, River and Bishop Maldonaldo, Braxton and Taylor Rose, Derek Chandler…”

“You’re two short, Mr. Vargas.” Mr. Henry said with a small smirk from the side. Not like it actually mattered to the asshole. It wasn’t like he’d be paying out the insurance.

I took a deep breath to call the next name, praying he’d showed up, that he didn’t hate me so much that he’d let this fail.

“Spencer Cohen,” he called from the aisle, walking down to the floor. There was a collective gasp among the crowd, and my head hung in pure, sweet relief. The large, intense thirty-year-old took up a spot at the end of the line, his hand raking over his light beard.

All of the council members sat forward. “Spencer. I’m…”

“Speechless, Mayor Davis?” he asked. “Me too. But that’s a good thing, because I’ve learned that when you have asinine things to say, you should keep your mouth shut. You tend to just keep talking, and about this issue, you’re dead wrong. You have no more right to deny this crew her name than you did to loan us out to that other fire the day ours erupted.”

The crowd murmured, finally hearing what I’d known for years. Davis had made the executive decision to send the Legacy Hotshots to a different fire for the pay, thinking ours would be easily handled by the town’s department.

“Then you denied their requests to return home, until they did on their own recognizance, only to find their deaths saving this town,” Spencer finished.

What the fuck?

My eyes swung to Emerson, who shook her head, her mouth hanging open. Ryker, Knox, all the other volunteers all wore the same expression. None of us had known.

“This isn’t about past events,” Davis argued over the growing anger in the crowd. “That was ten years ago, and wrong decisions were made. We didn’t have all of the information, nor could we tell the future. What we’re doing now is trying to keep those mistakes from happening again. Now, Mr. Cohen, last time I checked, you’re not a legacy, so this is a moot point.”

“He doesn’t have to be,” I countered. “The wording in the original petition you accepted today says, ‘blood of the original crew.’ Spencer is the only surviving member of the original crew. There is no one in a better place to serve as superintendent.”

“Was he not the one who left the line?” Mr. Henry asked, his eyes narrowing on Spencer.

“I did, and I have no regrets,” Spencer said loudly.

“He did it to save me,” I announced, and the crowd quieted. “I went to the ridgeline that day, and he was ordered to evacuate me. Trust me,” I looked down the line to Spencer, “he would have rather died that day.”

“Truth,” Spencer agreed. “Now you can rule this whole thing out as incomplete because you’re unwilling to accept me, and risk the entire town coming for you, Davis, or you can trust me like Julian Vargas did, and stop being such an asshole.”

Laughter erupted, and Mayor Davis’ face turned hydrant red. He started to bang the ceremonial gavel. “Enough! Fine, we’ll accept you, Spencer, but he’s still short.”

I looked down the list. Shane Winston.
Fuck.

Emerson’s eyes met mine as she rose to stand next to me. “He didn’t come,” she whispered.

“I know. It’s okay.” The last thing I wanted was for her to blame herself.

“We have an alternate,” she added, handing me an envelope.

Who?
There was zero chance Harper was going to be allowed to firefight, not with Ryker and Knox ready to kill for her. I opened the notecard as her voice rang out, sweet and clear…and devastating.

“Emerson Kendrick.”

“Absolutely not!” I shouted, looking from her back up to the awestruck faces of the council. “She is mistaken. She’s not volunteering.”

“Yes, I am, Bash,” she said, tugging on my sleeve. “You don’t get to control this. Shut up and let me do this for our town—for you.”

“You’ve never been a firefighter!”

“And? You only need eighty percent experience on the crew. With Taylor and I, they still have more than enough.”

They.
Because I could set this all in motion, back it, finance it, fight for it, but it would never be my team, and with one motion, she’d set her roots even deeper into Legacy, killing my plan to ask her to come with me. Fuck. Me.

I was wildly aware of the crowd, the crew, even the council listening in to our fight, and I wasn’t in the mood to give a fuck. “There’s zero chance I’m letting you near a fire, Emerson. None. You’re not risking your life, or a single hair on your head. It’s not going to happen.”

“It is!” She may as well have stomped her foot.

“No way in Hell! I’m not jeopardizing you.”

“What, but everyone else can? They can all honor their fathers, their mothers by stepping up for this crew, but I can’t?”

“She has a point,” Ryker whispered.

“Shut the fuck up and imagine this is Harper,” I said, swinging my finger at him.

He threw his hands up and backed away.

Emerson’s eyes spat fire at me, her hands fisted on her hips, more than standing her ground, but mounting a defense I couldn’t beat. “There’s no difference between me and them, Bash.”

“Yes, there is.”

“And what is that?”

“I’m not in love with them!” Well, shit. That was not how I intended that to come out.

Chapter Eleven

Emerson

He loves me.
It took me a full minute for that to sink in. “What?”
Classy.

He swallowed, running his hand over his hair. My God, my always-in-control Bash was flustered. “I always have. I never stopped.”

“Hey guys,” Knox leaned over my shoulder, “as much as you guys are earning huge swoon points from the female population of Legacy, this might not be the right time.”

I blinked, finally pulling my attention from Bash to see that every eye in the room was on us.
Well, as ratings of awkward go, this might be up there with the whole no-clothes-at-work nightmare.

“Sebastian Vargas,” Bash spoke into the podium’s microphone. “I’m the last name.”

No. No. No.
He couldn’t. He didn’t want to stay here. Instead of securing Bash’s dream, I’d just destroyed it.

“Accepted,” Mayor Davis said, glancing at me, then back to the petition.

“You’re still one member off,” Mr. Henry announced.

“Bullshit!” Mom called out, on her feet at the end of the second row. She gave me a thumbs up and sat back down.

“You have nineteen members, therefore you are point-four off.”

“Would you like me to chop someone in half to meet your requirement?” Bash asked, sarcasm dripping from his voice.

I elbowed him in the side and took the podium. “Emerson Kendrick. I will serve as the crew’s manager under the superintendent…an assistant of sorts.” I looked down the row, and Spencer gave me a single nod, agreeing to the position I’d just pulled out of my ass. “I’m more than capable of passing any test to include a pack test for regulation purposes, and I’m a legacy. What more would you like?”

“You not on the damned crew,” Bash mumbled.

I glared in his direction. “I’m not going near a fire, now shut up and let me save you.”

He wisely shut up.

“Stop being obstinate, Davis,” Mr. Hartwell called from a few rows back. “They have the approval of this town, and when it comes down to it, you’re a servant of the people. An electable servant at that.”

Mayor Davis bristled at the principal calling him out, but pulled the council closer. They talked amongst themselves for a moment before he said, “we accept your crew, Mr. Vargas.”

The crowd roared their approval.

“We request nine months to be fully operational by next fire season,” Bash pushed.

“Granted,” Davis said, banging his stupid little gavel.

Bash scooped me off my feet and up against his massive frame, searing me with a kiss that was anything but made-for-public. I ignored the catcalls and kissed him back with every fiber of my being, knowing that nothing could be sweeter than this moment.

Until reality set in. “Put me down,” I said against his mouth.

With lowered eyebrows, he did as I asked. “What?—”

He was interrupted by the congratulations of our crew and the whole of the Legacy population that had made it into the meeting, which allowed me to sneak out the side door.

Once clear, I leaned against the brick building, gulping in huge breaths of cool air. I’d made him stay. I was forcing him into the one thing he didn’t want, all because he was too scared to let me near a fire.

And loving me? How the hell did that all fit into this?

“What are you doing?” Bash asked, coming through the side door.

“Avoiding you,” I answered honestly.

“Okay, take it from someone who expertly avoided you for years, it’s not possible in a town this small.” He blocked out the sun, hovering over me and tilting my chin to meet his eyes.

Maybe this wouldn’t hurt so badly if I didn’t love him so much.

“Then you should leave. That was always your plan, right? And I just…screwed it.”

“Yes, that was the plan.”

“And loving me? Was that just to get me to back off the team?”

He winced. “That was the truth. I have always loved you, Emerson. There has never been a moment since I recognized what that emotion meant that I didn’t equate it with you. As kids, as teens, as adults…you are it for me. My beginning, my end. My past, my present, and every day of my future, if you’ll just shut your pessimistic brain off long enough to believe me.”

“But you don’t want to stay here,” I argued, unwilling to even chance the belief that he really loved me. Me loving Bash was one thing, it simply
was
. But him loving me? That opened me to a world of hurt and destruction.

“I didn’t. I’d actually planned on asking you to come to California with me.”

“You did not.” I shook my head. “Don’t you dare play games with me.”

“Games? Fuck, woman. I take a chance on this—on us— ready to dive in and give it everything I have, and you accuse me of playing games?”

“It wouldn’t be the first time you fucked—”

“Don’t go there,” he shouted. “The pull between us? That fire that catches and burns us from the first touch? That’s not even a tenth of how deeply, dangerously, completely I love you.”