Fighting Love’s Flame – Chapter 4
The morning came wrapped in smoke and the acrid taste of disaster.
June woke to Jake’s hand on her shoulder, a brief touch that had her alert. His headlamp cut through the pre-dawn darkness, illuminating the urgent set of his jaw.
“Spot fire jumped the line. We’re mobilizing in ten.”
He was already dressed, medical pack slung over one shoulder, moving with the controlled efficiency of someone who’d done this a hundred times. June scrambled out of her sleeping bag, the cold air shocking her awake.
“How bad?” She yanked on her fire pants, fingers fumbling with the suspenders.
“Bad enough.” Jake paused at the tent flap, his silhouette backlit by the orange glow on the horizon. “Full gear. No camera.”
Then he was gone, leaving June to wrestle with her boots in the dark.
The base camp buzzed with controlled chaos. Crews jogged between tents, loading equipment into trucks. The radio chatter was constant—coordinates, wind speeds, evacuation notices. June spotted Tank by the supply tent, his face grim as he distributed fresh batteries.
“Where do you need me?” she asked Jake when she found him at the command post.
He looked up from the tactical map, assessing her gear with a quick glance. “You’re with the medical unit today. We’ve got evacuees coming in from Elk Ridge subdivision.”
“But I thought—”
“The fire shifted.” His voice was clipped, professional. “Families trapped in the evacuation zone. Some injuries reported. I need every trained hand at the aid station.”
June’s stomach clenched. This wasn’t observation anymore. This was participation. “I only have basic first aid—”
“Which is more than the panicking civilians will have.” Jake thrust a red medical vest at her. “You triage. Minor injuries to the left tent, serious to the right. I’ll handle the critical cases.”
A convoy of trucks roared into camp, dust and ash swirling in their wake. The first vehicle’s doors burst open, disgorging a family—parents clutching three young children, all coughing from smoke inhalation.
“This way!” June heard herself shout, pointing toward the medical tents. Her body moved on autopilot, the vest heavy on her shoulders.
The next hour blurred into organized chaos. June lost count of the families she directed, the minor burns she cleaned and dressed under Jake’s rapid-fire instructions.
He moved between patients with laser focus, his hands steady as he inserted IVs, administered oxygen, and splinted what looked like a fractured arm on a teenager who’d fallen during evacuation.
“Harrington!” His voice cut through the noise. “Need you here.”
June found him kneeling beside an elderly woman whose breathing came in labored gasps. Her husband hovered nearby, tears cutting channels through the soot on his face.
“Hold this.” Jake pressed an oxygen mask into June’s hands. “Keep it sealed against her face while I listen to her lungs.”
June cradled the woman’s head, murmuring reassurances while Jake worked his stethoscope beneath her shirt. The woman’s eyes found June’s—pale blue, terrified, searching for hope.
“You’re doing great,” June whispered. “Just breathe with me. In… and out.”
Jake’s expression was grave as he pulled back. “Possible smoke inhalation pneumonitis. She needs immediate evac to Whitewater.” He was already reaching for his radio. “This is Morrison. Need immediate medevac for priority patient.”
The woman’s hand found June’s, squeezing with surprising strength. “My cats,” she wheezed. “Did someone—”
“I’ll find out,” June promised, looking to the husband. “How many?”
“Two. Siamese. But they—” His voice broke. “The house is gone.”
Jake’s hand settled on the man’s shoulder. “Let’s focus on getting your wife help first. The evac bird is three minutes out.”
His touch was gentle as he rechecked the woman’s vitals, his voice calm as he explained each step to the terrified husband.
The helicopter landed in a hurricane of rotor wash. Jake supervised the loading, rattling off medical details to the flight crew. As the bird lifted off, he turned back to June.
“Good work, Harrington. You kept her calm.”
Before she could respond, their radios crackled. “All personnel, be advised. Wind shift imminent. Prepare for a possible base camp evacuation.”
Jake’s expression hardened. He scanned the horizon where the smoke had thickened. “Pack the medical supplies. Priority drugs and trauma kit first.”
They worked in tandem, June following his lead as they broke down the aid station. She’d just sealed a container of IV fluids when a sound made her blood freeze—the freight-train roar of an approaching fire front.
“Move!” Jake shouted.
The evacuation was orderly but urgent. June found herself in Jake’s truck, medical supplies piled between them as they joined the convoy heading for the safety zone. Through the rear window, she watched their base camp disappear into a wall of smoke.
Jake’s knuckles were white on the steering wheel. “We’ll rebuild. We always do.”
They set up a temporary aid station at the county fairgrounds, ten miles from the fire line. The evacuees kept coming—families with hastily grabbed belongings, elderly couples clutching medication bottles, children wide-eyed with fear.
June fell into a rhythm beside Jake. Assess, treat, comfort, move to the next. Her camera bag sat forgotten in the truck. This wasn’t about the story anymore. This was about being useful, being present.
“Take five,” Jake ordered as the stream of patients slowed. “Get some water.”
June collapsed onto a bench outside the makeshift medical tent. Her shoulders ached, her feet throbbed, and she couldn’t remember ever being this exhausted. Jake appeared with two bottles of water, handing her one as he sat beside her.
“You did good today,” he mumbled.
“I just followed orders.”
“You did more than that.” He took a long drink, his profile etched with fatigue. “The woman with the breathing problems, she’s stable. Husband called from the hospital to thank us.”
“That’s… that’s good.” June felt something ease in her chest. “What about their cats?”
A ghost of a smile crossed Jake’s face. “Animal rescue found them hiding in a drainage pipe. Singed but alive.”
They sat in silence, watching the sun set through the smoke haze. The orange light painted everything in shades of disaster, but there was something else too—the resilience of people helping people, the minor victories carved out of catastrophe.
“I keep thinking about what you said,” June ventured. “About trust being built one decision at a time.”
Jake turned to look at her, waiting.
“Today felt like a good decision. Being here. Helping instead of just watching.”
“It was.” His gaze held hers, dark eyes reflecting the sunset. “You didn’t hesitate when it mattered. That’s what counts.”
Tank’s voice interrupted the moment. “Boss! Captain Lennon on the radio. Wants a status report.”
Jake stood and June heard the crack and pop of his neck as he shook off the fatigue. But before he walked away, he touched June’s shoulder—the same brief, grounding contact that had woken her that morning.
“Get something to eat, Harrington. Long night ahead.”
June watched him stride away. Her shoulder tingled where he’d touched it, which was ridiculous. It was a colleague’s gesture, nothing more.
But as she retrieved her camera to document the evacuation center, she thought less about the story and more about the man who’d trusted her enough to let her help save lives.
The footage she shot that evening was different. Instead of focusing on the drama, she captured the quiet moments—Jake teaching a young EMT how to secure a cervical collar, his patience with a child afraid of the oxygen mask, the way his team looked to him for steady leadership in the chaos.
When she made it back to their relocated tent after midnight, Jake was updating medical logs by lantern light, just like the night before. But this time, he looked up as she entered.
“Fifteen seconds,” June announced, preempting his reminder about fire shelter practice. “I did ten reps while you were in the briefing.”
“Show me.”
June was too tired to argue. She deployed the shelter in one smooth motion, the muscle memory taking hold. Fourteen seconds.
“Better,” Jake acknowledged. “Tomorrow we work on doing it while running.”
“Of course we do.” June collapsed onto her cot, not bothering to remove her boots. “Morrison?”
“Mm?”
“Thank you. For letting me help today.”
He set down his pen, considering her in the lantern light. “You earned it. But don’t let it go to your head—you still need work on your IV setup.”
“I’ll practice.” She paused, then added, “The husband, the way his hands shook when he talked about losing the house but still having her. That’s what matters. What we save, not what burns.”
Jake’s expression shifted, something vulnerable flickering across his features before he looked back at his logs. “Yeah. That’s what matters.”
June closed her eyes, her body heavy with the good kind of exhaustion that came from useful work. She was almost asleep when Jake spoke again.
“The cats’ names were Mochi and Boba. The wife named them after her favorite desserts.”
June smiled into her pillow. “That’s perfect.”
“Get some sleep, Harrington. Weather service says tomorrow’s going to be worse.”
The lantern clicked off, plunging the tent into darkness. June listened to Jake settling into his sleeping bag, the familiar sounds now comforting. Outside, the distant roar of the fire continued, but here in their small shelter, she felt something she hadn’t expected.
You have been reading Fighting Love's Flame...
Sharing a tent with Alaska’s grumpiest smokejumper wasn’t part of June Harrington’s plan—but an overcrowded fire camp left her bunking with the one man who wanted her gone.
Jake Morrison made it clear from day one: her camera was a liability and his crew didn’t need a documentarian filming their every move. She made it equally clear she wasn’t leaving. Not when this assignment was her only shot at redemption for a past tragedy where she filmed instead of helping.
Every dangerous rescue revealed the devastatingly competent man beneath his stoic armor. Every quiet conversation exposed wounds that matched her own. He was drowning in guilt over losing someone under his command.
She understood that guilt better than anyone.
As they work together to save his program from budget cuts, the heat between them burns hotter than any wildfire—but when two people are convinced they don’t deserve second chances, can they risk trusting each other with their carefully guarded hearts?
Fighting Love’s Flame is a medical romance set in Alaska. It’s the third book in the Alaska Rugged Hearts Series and can be read as a standalone.
If you love workplace romance with forced proximity, grumpy smokejumper heroes finding redemption through love, and competent heroines who can save lives with a camera and melt hearts on the fire line—think Only the Brave meets Northern Exposure—then Fighting Love’s Flame is for you.
