Burn Season novel · Chapter 13 of 24

Chapter 13: Eight Weeks

Walker didn't answer for a long time.

A hawk turned over the drainage below us, and neither of us watched it.

"I put it in her hand," he said. "I gave her your letter back, and I thanked her."

"You thanked her."

"She said she was looking out for me."

His jaw moved.

"I've been stupid a lot of ways this month. That's the one I'll still be sorry about when I'm old."

I crossed the ten feet between us myself.

I stopped close enough to see the split in his eyebrow, and I put one finger against his chest.

"You had that letter a full day before you went to that lot."

"Yes."

"I was on a ridge in Idaho with a Pulaski, digging line in the dark. The only thing in my head was getting home to you."

"I know where you were."

"You don't get to say that. You were in a tavern parking lot."

He took it without looking away.

"Say your half," I said. "You've carried it around this mountain for eleven days."

"Eight weeks," he said.

"What?"

"You applied in July. Every morning since, you sat in my kitchen and told me about your knees and your dad's truck, and not once did you say Alaska."

"I hadn't decided."

"The form asked who to call if you got hurt."

I said nothing.

"Who did you put?" he asked.

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