The Maddox Brothers: Beautiful Burn Part 22

Taylor's keys jingled in his hand as he rounded the corner. The front door opened and slammed, and Tyler sighed.

"You're going to miss him."

He sat down on my bed again, leaning over and lacing his fingers together. "It's kind of a p.u.s.s.y thing to say, but Taylor and I haven't been apart a lot. It feels weird."

"Understandable. The twin thing."

"I'm just glad he's not going to Australia with Jew."

"Australia?"

"Yeah, we switch out. A couple of our guys go over there for a season to learn their way of doing things, and we get a couple of their guys to see how we do it."

"So those are the Aussies we're waiting on? Isn't that going to mess with your groove or whatever to get two new guys?"

"The Aussies are machines. They always come here to work. We're dragging a.s.s to headquarters, and they're antsy, wishing for the next call. What?"

"I don't know ... I feel irrationally betrayed."

Tyler wrinkled his nose. "You feel what?"

"You should have told me. One minute I'm the big sister making grilled cheese, the next I'm left out of the loop."

Tyler thought about that. "Wow, I'm sorry. You just fit in so well I forget you don't already know this stuff."

"I suppose I can forgive you." I sat up, running my hand over my face. "Oh my G.o.d."

"What?"

"My mouth. It tastes like a trashcan." I stood, opening the armoire to grab my toothbrush and a tube of toothpaste before rushing to the bathroom. After spitting the suds into the sink, I rinsed and grabbed a towel. My sinuses felt congested, so I grabbed a tissue.

"Oh my G.o.d!" I said again.

Tyler jogged across the barracks, stopping in the doorway. "What's wrong?"

"I'm dying," I said, blowing my nose again. "My insides are rotting."

"Black in the tissue?" Tyler asked.

I nodded.

He chuckled. "That's normal. When fire season is over, you'll still be doing that for weeks. It's from the smoke and ash."

"Isn't that ... I don't know ... unhealthy?"

Tyler made a face. "You smoke, Ellie."

"So do you," I snapped.

"But I'm not whining about the hazards of inhaling wood smoke. We're sucking a lot worse every time we light up."

"But I don't blow charcoal out of my nose after I smoke."

Tyler shrugged. "So wear a filter mask next time."

"Maybe I will."

"Good. Are we going into town or what?"

I shook my head and shifted, holding up one foot off the cold floor. "I can't right now. I have to get my notes emailed to Jojo."

"I don't know why you don't just write it yourself. She used most of your ma.n.u.script for the magazine. She didn't even credit herself."

I smiled, filling my hand with water and rinsing out the sink. "That was pretty cool. I thought it was c.r.a.p, but she cleaned it up a little bit and called it good."

"Chief said he's gotten a lot of phone calls about the story. The bra.s.s like the positive press it's brought to the crew."

"It didn't get picked up by the AP like Wick had hoped."

"Yet," Tyler said as I turned off the faucet. "So you're going to work?"

"Yeah ... go ahead."

"Nah, I'll wait. It's kinda nice being alone with you."

I fetched my laptop, and then sat with Tyler in the TV room. He lifted the remote and turned on the television, keeping the volume down while I typed. The process was a bit easier this time, matching numbered photos to corresponding accounts.

Not quite an hour after we'd sat down, Tyler reached down and lifted my legs, lowering them over his lap. He settled back against the sofa cushions, looking sleepy but content.

"Hungry?" I asked, clicking SEND.

"All done?" Tyler said, watching me close my laptop.

"Yes. Finished. Let's eat."

We rode into town in Tyler's truck, his ridiculously loud exhaust pipes announcing to everyone within a three-mile radius that we were back. He stopped in a small cafe I'd never been to, but where he seemed to be familiar.

The waitress looked both surprised and overly enthusiastic about seeing him, but Tyler didn't seem to notice.

"Uh, just waters for now. You want OJ, Ellie?" Tyler asked, still reading over the menu.

"Yes, please," I said.

"Two," Tyler said, holding up his index and middle finger. When the waitress left, he lowered his index finger, leaving me a charming gesture for a few seconds before putting it away.

"Back atcha," I grumbled. I pretended to be annoyed, but it was hard to stay mad at him when his dimple was working its magic.

"Orange juice. Two," the waitress said, setting down two gla.s.ses. "Who's this, Tyler?"

She was smiling when she asked the question, but a familiar glint was in her eye. She took in my clothes, my hair, even my jagged fingernails and chipped polish, wondering what it was about me that had enticed Tyler Maddox enough to buy me breakfast.

"This is Ellison," Tyler said, the grin on his face breaking out into a full-blown smile.

"Ellison?" the waitress asked. "Edson?"

I cringed, wondering which story she'd heard and how satisfying to her it would be to realize I wasn't compet.i.tion after all.

"Yes?" I said, trying to meet her condescending gaze. Life was a collection of stories, and I couldn't let her judge me for a few chapters.

"You know my cousin, Paige. She talks about you a lot."

"Oh. Yeah. Tell her I said hi," I said, surprised at how relieved I was.

"Hi? That's it?" the waitress said, her voice tinged with disdain.

"Emily, c'mon. Can we order?" Tyler said, impatient.

Emily pulled out her pad and pen, her lips pursed.

"The waffles," Tyler said.

"Peanut b.u.t.ter and whip with warm maple?" she asked.

"Yep," Tyler said.

Emily looked to me.

"Oh, uh ... I'll have two eggs, over medium, and bacon. Burned."

"Burned?" Emily asked.

"Crispy fried."

She shook her head. "I'll tell the cook. Anything else?"

"That's it," I said. Emily walked away, and I leaned against the table. "She's going to spit in my food."

"Do you know her?" Tyler asked.

"No. I'm not sure if she hates me because of something she thinks I did to Paige, or because I'm with you."

"Maybe both. Girls are weird that way."

"Oh my f.u.c.k, Tyler. Could you be more of a misogynist?"

"Am I wrong?"

"About what? I'm not even sure I know what you meant."

"But you knew enough to be offended."

"I hate you today."

"I can tell," he said. "I would say you need a drink, but..."

"No. My luck, we'd get called to a political fire, and I'd be puking my guts out."

Tyler smiled at the jargon. A political fire was anything big enough to make CNN, something everyone was dispatched to, and the only reason I would ever know that was by living with the twenty-man crew who would be sent to one.

"I didn't realize you knew that term," Tyler said.

"I sort of have to pay attention for my job."

"You're really good at it, Ellie. I'm glad Jojo gave you a raise, but I saw on the Internet the other day that they're paying photographers six figures a year to shoot pics of national forests."

"Really?"

"I was looking into National Geographic, too. That seems a little harder to get into, but not impossible."

I arched an eyebrow. "You trying to get rid of me, hotshot?"

"No f.u.c.king way. Not even a little bit."

We looked at each other for a moment in a silent exchange. We had an understanding that I needed, and Tyler was satisfied with whatever it was that we were doing. Part of me wanted to thank him for not pushing, but that would defeat the purpose of our rule to avoid labels, or really to even discuss the nature of our relationship-if it could even be called that.

Emily returned with our plates, interrupting our little staring contest. "Waffles. Eggs," she said, turning around before Tyler could ask for a refill.

"Okay, then. Not sure what you did to Paige, but her cousin is p.i.s.sed about it."

"I honestly don't know this time."

"Weren't you two, uh..."

"No. As a matter of fact, I was very clear. Many times."

"Many times, huh?"

"Shut up."

Tyler chuckled, finishing his waffle. He paid, and we walked downtown, stopping into various shops. It was strange to see something I liked and not buy it. I found myself looking at price tags for the first time, and once, when I came across an exceptionally soft black turtleneck, calculating my bank balance and upcoming bills in my head to see if I had the extra cash to spend. I didn't.

I walked around the store, peeking at Tyler through the shelving. He had a few items in his hands, so I waited for him to check out, and then we popped into a candy store. We spent the day walking around, talking about the crew, a lot of playful bickering, trading family stories, and trying to one-up each other on what shocking illegal activities we'd partic.i.p.ated in.

I won.

The day wore away, and as the sun ducked behind the green mountaintops, I felt myself already mourning The Day Tyler and I Did Nothing. Wandering aimlessly in downtown Estes was one of my best days.

After a light dinner, Tyler and I walked down the block toward a familiar alley. He casually reached for my hand, at first swinging our arms, and then gently squeezing my fingers when he realized I wasn't going to pull away. He was wearing jeans, black boots, and a short-sleeved white T-shirt with something about a motorcycle in black ink. It went well the tattoos covering his arms, and I smiled when I thought about the reaction my parents would have if they saw us.