22
Out of more words—even Jeremy—Taz followed him back into the bar.
The first person she saw was Max. He sat at the barstool closest to the door, facing away from the others, just watching the door and waiting.
“I’ll be over in a minute,” she whispered to Jeremy, then turned to face the music. It wasn’t going to be some sweet song.
The other hotshots sounded like they were most of the way back to normal, celebrating a fire season. The party atmosphere dampened a little as she came over to them, but the hotshots were suddenly trying to pretend it hadn’t by calling loudly for another round and more platters of fries. Their sudden laughter sounded false, brittle.
This sucked!
She’d enjoyed her new life. Her “hotshot summer.” And now they were treating her like an outsider; only Max act
