Jump by Emilia Finn

I was a smokejumper for the majority of my career.
Flinging out of planes at 15,000 feet and hoping to land with my bones in tact and a plan to slay wildfire quickly, safely, and with my crew all in one piece.

Ainsley was a regular firefighter.
You know, the kind who lives in town, rides in a truck, and wields a hose to save houses and hotels.
We were a match made in adrenaline junky heaven.
Or so they said.
But fate wasn’t ready to let me have my happiness just yet, because one shitty summer day, the dragon was too hot, and Ainsley’s death would be the singular event that would leave me a broken man.
That was all awhile ago now. But the thing about tragedy is that folks have long memories and I, zero patience for sympathy or busybodies.
These days, I keep to myself. I stay in, read a book, and I absolutely do not socialize.