Read Online Flaming Desire - Part 2 (An Alpha Billionaire Romance) by Helen Grey - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Helen Grey
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I repeated the process with a dark blue T-shirt with a Hotshot logo from the last crew I worked with emblazoned on the back.
Toward the back of my closet, I reached for another pair of hiking boots. I sat down on the bed as I pulled them on and laced them up, pulling my pant leg down over them. My heart raced with excitement. It wasn't that I was excited about the fire per se, because that was a horrible thing to think. No, it was more about fighting the fire. Killing it. Forcing it back. Fighting wildfires was challenging, exhilarating, and often dangerous, but it wasn't like I had a death wish or anything, far from it.
No one seemed to understand why I had such a passion for firefighting; not Melody or Serena, not Diane, nor any of their friends or distant relatives that I had left behind back home. In fact, most of my distant relatives, specifically my aunt and uncle, and my grandparents, who had raised me after the tragedy, frowned upon it. They thought I had a problem, one that I needed to see a psychologist about. They just couldn't understand why I felt drawn to the same type of tragedy that had taken my family from me.
Sometimes I didn't even understand it myself. Still, someone had to fight those fires, didn't they? There were hundreds, thousands of wildfire firefighters scattered throughout the US and I was proud to be numbered among their group. There were still thousands of others who volunteered. The last fire that I had been on had involved over fifteen-hundred firefighters, several retardant dropping airplanes, helicopters, and even military transport planes from a nearby army base that helped with evacuations.
It was a team effort, and maybe that's what drew me to it. The same applied to nursing. It wasn't one person alone who made a difference, but a group of people, a team working together toward a specific end. I had no idea how long I'd be gone, but I didn't really care. When I was fighting a fire, fighting that fire was the only thing that consumed my thoughts. When I was nursing, I felt similar, but sometimes, just sometimes in my quiet, reflective moments, I wondered if someday I would have to choose.
Sometimes I did feel torn. I know that with my choice of career, I needed to dedicate every ounce of my being into being the best ER nurse I could be. But then, the moment I heard of a fire, that I would be helping to fight it, it was as if another part of me was reborn, a part that not only responded to the adrenaline, but to a part of something inside me, buried deep in my past—deep in that tragedy that had changed my life forever.
I was grateful that Matt had invited me to join his crew. I look forward to working beside him. Hotshot crews were made up of teams that belonged to the National Interagency Hotshot Crews funded under national shared resources. Crews were defined by geographic region, such as the northwest, northern or southern California, Alaska, the Northern Rocky Mountains, to which we were headed, as well as the Great Basin, the Rocky Mountains, and the Southwest. Other Hotshot crews were divided into geographic regions to the east as well, including the eastern and southern region.
Some of the Hotshot crews—including the Northern Rockies crew that Matt belonged to—operated under either the Forest Service or the Bureau of Land Management, the National Park Service, or the Bureau of Indian Affairs, depending on the region. Sometimes everyone was thrown into the mix.
Unless we were out in the field, away from base operations, in which case I knew I’d be sleeping in a sleeping bag, I knew that I would be sharing quarters in bunkhouse type facilities. Most of the guys didn't mind, and as the years have passed, more women had joined these crews. Most of the guys, especially the younger ones, didn't even think twice about it. As long as women could pull their weight, and the men as well, they were more than welcome.
In less than an hour, I rushed out of my apartment, my backpack
Toward the back of my closet, I reached for another pair of hiking boots. I sat down on the bed as I pulled them on and laced them up, pulling my pant leg down over them. My heart raced with excitement. It wasn't that I was excited about the fire per se, because that was a horrible thing to think. No, it was more about fighting the fire. Killing it. Forcing it back. Fighting wildfires was challenging, exhilarating, and often dangerous, but it wasn't like I had a death wish or anything, far from it.
No one seemed to understand why I had such a passion for firefighting; not Melody or Serena, not Diane, nor any of their friends or distant relatives that I had left behind back home. In fact, most of my distant relatives, specifically my aunt and uncle, and my grandparents, who had raised me after the tragedy, frowned upon it. They thought I had a problem, one that I needed to see a psychologist about. They just couldn't understand why I felt drawn to the same type of tragedy that had taken my family from me.
Sometimes I didn't even understand it myself. Still, someone had to fight those fires, didn't they? There were hundreds, thousands of wildfire firefighters scattered throughout the US and I was proud to be numbered among their group. There were still thousands of others who volunteered. The last fire that I had been on had involved over fifteen-hundred firefighters, several retardant dropping airplanes, helicopters, and even military transport planes from a nearby army base that helped with evacuations.
It was a team effort, and maybe that's what drew me to it. The same applied to nursing. It wasn't one person alone who made a difference, but a group of people, a team working together toward a specific end. I had no idea how long I'd be gone, but I didn't really care. When I was fighting a fire, fighting that fire was the only thing that consumed my thoughts. When I was nursing, I felt similar, but sometimes, just sometimes in my quiet, reflective moments, I wondered if someday I would have to choose.
Sometimes I did feel torn. I know that with my choice of career, I needed to dedicate every ounce of my being into being the best ER nurse I could be. But then, the moment I heard of a fire, that I would be helping to fight it, it was as if another part of me was reborn, a part that not only responded to the adrenaline, but to a part of something inside me, buried deep in my past—deep in that tragedy that had changed my life forever.
I was grateful that Matt had invited me to join his crew. I look forward to working beside him. Hotshot crews were made up of teams that belonged to the National Interagency Hotshot Crews funded under national shared resources. Crews were defined by geographic region, such as the northwest, northern or southern California, Alaska, the Northern Rocky Mountains, to which we were headed, as well as the Great Basin, the Rocky Mountains, and the Southwest. Other Hotshot crews were divided into geographic regions to the east as well, including the eastern and southern region.
Some of the Hotshot crews—including the Northern Rockies crew that Matt belonged to—operated under either the Forest Service or the Bureau of Land Management, the National Park Service, or the Bureau of Indian Affairs, depending on the region. Sometimes everyone was thrown into the mix.
Unless we were out in the field, away from base operations, in which case I knew I’d be sleeping in a sleeping bag, I knew that I would be sharing quarters in bunkhouse type facilities. Most of the guys didn't mind, and as the years have passed, more women had joined these crews. Most of the guys, especially the younger ones, didn't even think twice about it. As long as women could pull their weight, and the men as well, they were more than welcome.
In less than an hour, I rushed out of my apartment, my backpack
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