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“Cell coverage is spotty up there. I was going to tell Nova in case a call came in, but…” He trailed off, not wanting to tell JoJo how their near kiss had sent Nova scurrying to get away.
JoJo’s eyebrows arched.
“Never mind. I’ll text her.”
JoJo shrugged. “Good idea since I guess she’s sorta in charge for now.”
Of course Nova would step up like that with Tucker out. That was her style. “Well, if she asks you…” Booth didn’t finish. He turned and pulled the burner phone from his front pocket.
He typed one letter and hit Send.
With his own phone, he sent a text to Nova updating her on where he’d be for the next few hours. His thumb hovered over the smile emoji. Better not press his luck.
A few minutes later, Booth was rumbling down the road in Houston’s green-and-tan behemoth from the nineties. Cool wind rushed through their open windows. Booth rested his elbow outside and watched the sun streaking through the boughs of towering pines. A cloud of brown dust swirled behind them and never seemed to settle.
Houston mirrored Booth, elbow propped on the windowsill, hand draped over the steering wheel. “I thought the movie was all wrapped and that old town was deserted again.”
“Thought I’d go take a look now that all the fuss has died down and security isn’t so tight.” Booth didn’t want to answer a lot of questions and decided to change the subject. “Man…without Tucker, our crew feels like a ship without a rudder.”
“We run pretty smooth on our own. Besides, Nova’s stepped up to the helm.”
“Only because she’s so headstrong. Logan has more experience leading. I don’t know why he’s letting her overshadow him. I thought he wanted to be crew chief.”
Houston flattened his lips, thinking. “Pushing himself into the slot won’t make it happen.”
“Someone should tell Nova that. She’s pushing herself too hard. Some of the risks she takes…” He shook his head. “She’s gonna get herself killed.”
“And you think it’s your job to keep that from happening?”
Booth already had a job. Two if he counted smokejumping. “I can’t always be there to protect her. I know that.”
“You see those trees?” Houston pointed.
Booth watched the trees passing by, their trunks blackened by the recent wildfire. “Yeah?”
“On the outside, all you see is charred bark. They’ve been through the fire, and they look dead. But take a pocketknife and peel back that burnt outer bark. There’s life underneath. Now, we could run around stripping every tree, revealing the raw heartwood, but that would expose it to the elements too soon. The first frost, the next fire—either would kill it. The tree needs that protective layer a while longer.”
The blaze that’d killed Nova’s family had reshaped her the same way wildfires reshaped the landscape. “Are you saying Nova was burned and she needs more time to heal?”
Houston laughed. “No, brother. I’m saying we’re all like those trees.”
“I get that. But what if she’s killed before she ever finds healing?”
“What if you are?” Houston shot him a look. “We all come out here to find something. If Nova’s named crew chief, God already knew it. If I’m killed in the next fire, it’s no surprise to Him. We get our true identity from God, not our jobs. It’s why we’ve got to make the most of the time we have.”
Easy for Houston to say. God had taken Booth’s identity away and left him stranded in Jude County living a lie. “I don’t know. Lately I’ve been feeling like I’ve lost everything that defined me. Some days I don’t know who I am.”
“I know how you feel.” Houston shifted in his seat. “When I got fired from my job as a youth pastor in Last Chance County, I lost who I was. I’d put my job on a pedestal and made it my everything. But God showed me that’s not what He wanted from me. Now my identity is wrapped up in God, not my job.”
But maybe Houston was right. Maybe there was something more God was doing here, and Booth had to open his eyes to see it.
They rode in silence but for the rattle of the pickup bouncing over the rutted road. Houston came to an intersection and slowed to a stop.
“This is good,” Booth said. “Drop me here.”
Houston’s brow furrowed. “You sure? It’s probably another mile down that road.”
Booth hopped out and slammed the door. He leaned through the open window. He had no idea what he was walking into, and he wasn’t about to drag Houston into danger. “Nah, it’ll be a breeze without my pack-out.” Honestly, packing out over a hundred pounds of tools and gear was the hardest part of his job.
