Today’s training would begin with class time in deference to a packed day of preparing the rookies for their first jumps.
“Quick. Look like we’re friends.” Kelley followed him to the rows of folding chairs, looking far more awake than him with shining eyes and short hair more spiked than the day before.
“Someone overstepping?” He didn’t envy the harder road the women on crews always had. Not that he’d had the smoothest of rides as an out gay guy, but at least he didn’t usually have creeps hitting on him or questioning whether he could do the work at all.
“Guy over there implied I won’t be able to do the pack-out, saying 115 pounds might be more than I can handle over that distance. Suggested he give me private pointers.” She rolled her eyes as they took seats together toward the back of the room. “I’d rather not have to tell him no a second time.”
“Skinny one with the dark hair? That’s Ross. He was a friend of Wyatt’s from way back. You could probably bench-press him if you wanted. I might pay to watch you drop-kick him too.”
“I know, right? That’s what I’m saying.” Laughing, Kelley gave him a grateful smile. “Later today they’re assigning us to senior crew members as buddy jumpers for the duration of training. Lord, please don’t let them give me the weasel. Word is we’ll probably be paired up with them out in the field too.”
The smoke jumpers usually operated in small crews of three or four, getting shipped out together to various fires and tasks, working as a unit for much of the season. Like Kelley, he wanted to end up on a good crew, preferably one without drama or assholes.
“Maybe they’ll give you McKenna.” He named one of the senior women on the crew. “She’s good and she’s been around years. Ditto Pope. But not everyone’s like Ross. Plenty of good people. I can vouch for Linc—Reid—and Ray too. Their buddy Garrick Nelson’s a player, but not obnoxious about it.”
“Thanks for the heads-up. And I’ll repay the favor—our fellow rookie Jimenez was on the Winema crew with me. Don’t hook up with him—he talks.”
“Not looking to hook up with anyone.” It wasn’t a total lie—he’d learned his lesson early on about fishing where he worked. Fire crews worked too many long hours together. Some dating around was probably inevitable from the close contact, but it almost always ended messily. But while he had no intention of making a move on anyone else on the crew, he knew himself, knew Linc was different. There had been a moment last night, right as Jacob was about to leave, when Linc had almost wavered. And even knowing it would be beyond stupid career-wise, Jacob still wanted him, had still held his breath when Linc’s mouth had moved, had still known the sting when he’d said nothing.
And that blasted obsession reared its head again as soon as Linc took a seat a few rows ahead of them with Ray and Garrick. His eyes kept drifting over to Linc even as the lecture on basic jump safety procedures started. The instructor kept randomly calling on people mid-talk, just like this one history teacher he’d had in high school. Five other Hartman kids before him, and he alone was the one with the fidgety legs and restless mind that drove teachers crazy. And it wasn’t that he couldn’t pay attention—he could, hyper-focused at times, but other times it was like his brain couldn’t decide which of the nine million pieces of information it was receiving to focus on. He’d taken ADHD meds as a kid, found some focus in martial arts as a teen, but still did best with active, hands-on learning and struggled mightily in a traditional classroom setup. Even McKenna’s PowerPoint wasn’t enough to hold his attention.
“Hartman? Hartman, did you have something to add?”
“I’m sorry. What?” Fuck. From McKenna’s tone, she’d already asked him a question, and it had taken him far too long to realize she was speaking to him and that she needed a reply.
“I asked what you thought about the most important thing to remember for your first jump?”
Oh, hell. His mind went utterly blank, and he glanced around helplessly. He knew this, had reviewed the jump manuals, but such was the curse of his brain under pressure sometimes. As his eyes flitted around the room, they landed on Linc again, whose face was creased with concern.
“Calm,” Linc mouthed. What the heck? He was supposed to calm down? Now? Oh, wait. That was part of the answer. Linc, for whatever reason, was trying to help.
“Stay calm. Don’t panic. Listen to the person you’re tandem jumping with,” he said quickly, brain back online.
“Very good.” She kept frowning at him, though. “Hopefully we’re not putting you to sleep?”