"You lied."

"You never asked!"

"I shouldn't have had to ask!"

"Please, Troy," Gabriella stretched her hand toward him but Troy easily avoided contact. "I wanted to tell you."

"Well, it is not like you didn't have ample opportunities to do so," Troy stared icily at the woman standing in front of him. She met his gaze pleadingly. "I knew you would be a mistake."

"You don't mean that!" Gabriella tried to grasp his hand again.

"Don't." His tone was harsh and unforgiving. One she had never heard before and to know that it was aimed directly at her hurt more that it should have.

"Troy, if you would just let me explain-" Gabriella tried again, frantically searching for the words to fix this.

"I'm done, Gabriella," Troy's whispered, eyes now focused over her left shoulder.

"No," The tears she had been fighting began to surface as reality sunk in. He never used her full name anymore. "Please." Troy heard the desperation as her voice caught and he struggled with himself. He wanted to wrap her in his arms, tell her everything was going to be okay and soothe the woman that had done what none other had achieved; she had gotten into his heart.

"We're done."

Troy spun on his heel and walked quickly away from the woman before the sight of her tears could pull him to change his mind. Shoulders slumped, chin down and hands shoved in pockets of his uniform pants, Troy looked nothing like the confident firefighter she had grown to know.

His body was exhausted, his mind was tired.

And his heart? His heart was shattered.

Three Weeks Prior-June 17, 2008: Missoula, Montana

"Bolton."

A not so gentle nudge from a heavy treaded fire boot dug into the side of his ribs. His eyes remained closed, sprawled comfortably on the ground under the high Montana summer sun.

"Uhh…" It was a noncommittal noise. One used to dissuade any further conversation.

"Come on, Bolton. Get your ass up."

No such luck on the lack of further conversation.

"Hawkins," Troy popped one eye open, glancing first toward the annoying boot that had continually prodded his ribs during the entire encounter before scowling at the guy who was attached to the offending boot.

"Let's go, Princess," Bryan Hawkins hoped that he had left a bruise on his friend with the constant pressure from his boot. They played this game every year, hoping to be the one who left the most marks. The loser not only had to face public humiliation by the entire crew, but also supply the liquid refreshment for the end of season party.



"But the sun is out," Troy closed his eye, returning to the relaxed state. Using an old log for a pillow, his hands rested on his abdomen, legs crossed at his ankles.

"Get the fuck up, Bolton!" Bryan chuckled, kicking the log out from under his head. "We gotta drive to the compound and get the national fire report." Troy scowled again, only this time both eyes were open, his upper body supported by one elbow, the free hand was rubbing the back of his head from where it had unceremoniously hit the ground with the log now gone.

"And I have to go with you because…"

"Because Rodgers wants you too."

Troy sighed before finally picking himself up off the ground, absently brushing the loose grass from his shirt. Slipping a pair of sunglasses over his eyes, he nodded once.

"Alright," Troy fell into step beside Bryan. "Let's get this shit done and pray for a fire to break out somewhere." Bryan chuckled and voiced his agreement. "I'm tired of waiting around for this season to start."

"Be careful what you wish for!" Bryan responded. It was a conversation the two had every year for the last four years. Everyone working in Missoula was feeling the same restlessness because few fires had broken out in the last month and a half. Each one that had was small enough to be completely controlled and contained within a day. Not exactly exciting stuff.

Troy Bolton loved his job. It wasn't exactly where he had pictured himself at twenty-three, but now he couldn't imagine doing anything else.

After graduating from Missoula High in Montana, Troy had signed up with the US Forest Service to fight wildland fire on a hand crew for the summer. His ultimate goal was to make enough money in the short four months to pay for a year of college. Troy had aspiring dreams of becoming a diesel mechanic. His first season had been exciting, full of several fires and the bonds he made with that crew were unlike anything he had experienced.

Troy was hooked.

Now, five years later, Troy was on a twenty-person hotshot crew. He had worked on this crew for four years and most of the members returned each season, though new people flowed in and out as well. Troy had gained the respect of the crew foreman, Daniel Rodgers, and much of the other guys looked up to him. Troy lived, breathed and slept fire. During the fire season, which typically lasted from May to October, the crew all lived together, building crew cohesion and trust. He had thrown so much of himself into the job that he was normally the target for good natured jabs regarding his love life, or lack there of. Though, as almost any firefighter would agree, the job didn't cater well to long lasting relationships.

It was not as if Troy didn't have options or offers. Many of the women he encountered immediately swooned at his casual smile and glacier blue eyes. He loved woman of all ages. Grandmothers treated him as if he was a grandson, mothers pictured him with their daughters and babies absolutely adored him. Troy would flirt heavily, loving to observe woman as they tried to reel him in. But, none of them had caught his attention enough to warrant a second meeting. To him, women were deadly distractions. He didn't want to be concerned with relationship issues while trying to ward off a raging fire. Troy was one hundred percent dedicated to his job. Nothing could change that.

"You know what, Hawkins?" Troy asked as he slid into the driver's seat of the government truck. "I'm really tired of being your babysitter."

"Fuck you," Bryan punched Troy in the arm. Both guys had joined the hotshot crew at the same time and had developed a strong friendship. Bryan was the closest thing to a brother Troy had ever had and they treated each other as such. "Just drive the damn truck."

Troy laughed, putting the truck in gear and pulled out onto the highway, joining the flow of traffic. It was roughly an hour drive to the compound but with the sun high and windows rolled down, neither of them really minded the mission.

"So," Bryan smirked. "Is Bolton going to be a pussy again this summer and not find a hot chick." Troy shook his head slowly. He had been waiting for it to begin. "Or will I, as your best friend, have to convince all other guys on the fireline that you are, in fact, not gay?"

"Wow, I am impressed," Troy's eyes flickered to the clock built into the dash. "Ten minutes on the road before the harassment began."

"Candice says I need to work on my patience," Bryan admitted proudly.

"Reason number 56 I don't have a girlfriend," Troy muttered. "How long has it been for you two now?"

"A little over a year," Bryan smiled. He had met Candice at a junior college while taking an EMT class and had fallen head over heals for the soft spoken woman.

"You are whipped, you know that?"

"At least I'm getting laid on a regular basis."

"At least I'm not getting nagged on a regular basis."

"Shut up and drive, Bolton."

Troy smirked contently. He had won. Again. The pair drove in silence, each lost in their own thoughts.

"I can't wait for the day you find that girl you can't get out of your head," Bryan started. "I am going to give you so much shit, just you wait." Troy scoffed.

"Don't hold your breath," Troy said. "There is no woman who can distract me from this job."

"Famous last words, Bolton."

Neither of them knew just how true that was. This fire season was going to be hotter than any Troy had experienced before. Both on and off the fireline.

June 17, 2008: Black Butte Ranch, Oregon

"Oh, Mark," She gushed. "I love it!" Gabriella Montez clapped excitedly as she stood with her fiancé Mark on the front porch of their summer home.

"I knew you would," Mark smiled approvingly at the blatant joy on his wife-to-be's face. "Go look around; I have a phone call to attend to." Gabriella squealed happily and eagerly entered the large home.

Gabriella had met Mark while attending college in Boston, Massachusetts where she had studied art, particularly painting. Mark Finley was a very successful international lawyer who worked for his fathers firm. To say that he was well off would be a vast understatement. It was common for the pair to reside in one of the several homes the Finley's owned that dotted across the United States. And it was her first time to the west.

She was drawn automatically to the back porch. A huge wooden deck complimented by the usual patio attire, though this was undoubtedly designer brand, stretched out roughly fifty feet before her. And the view was breathtaking. The Cascade mountain range stood proudly, the peaks of numerous mountains and buttes reaching toward the cloudless sky. Gabriella had never seen mountains with such presence before. Her fingers 

itched to unpack her oils and get lost in the landscapes that would surely become the subject of many paintings this summer.

She left the porch, wandering silently through the remainder of the home. 5 bedrooms, just as many bathrooms, long hallways, a private library, two offices, a kitchen a professional chef would die for and a hot tub on the second story balcony was just the beginning of this elaborate estate. Not to mention the ten-acre plot it belonged to.

Gabriella couldn't wait to explore. To finally spend the time with Mark that he had promised her two months ago when he proposed. His job required more travel than she really liked, but you make sacrifices for love, right? She was happy, or she had been convincing herself such for so long she no longer knew the true answer.

"Gabriella?" Mark's deep voice echoed from the hall. He always addressed her by her full name, claiming that pet names were juvenile, though at twenty-five, he was only two years her senior.

"Coming!"

"What do you think?" He queried as she strode into the room.

"I want to live on the back porch forever!" Gabriella exclaimed. Mark smiled tightly.

"So, you feel comfortable here?"

"Of course," Gabriella tilted her head at the strange question. "Why wouldn't I?"

Mark sighed. He knew she had been looking forward to spending some time together this summer; it is all she had talked about for the last month. But his father had other plans.

"That was my father," Mark indicated to the cell phone resting on the coffee table. Gabriella had a bad feeling she knew exactly where this conversation was going. It wasn't that his family didn't like her, but they had made her very aware that she was not quite suited for a marriage to a son like theirs'.

"Mark," She almost whined. "You promised!"

"I know," He frowned at her childish tone. "But it will only be for a little while. I'll be back before you know it!"

"How long?"

"I will be in Spain for less than a month, probably only two weeks," Mark watched her face fall and she opened her mouth to complain. He beat her to it. "Not a word, Gabriella. This is my job; you know that my career comes before everything else."

Oh, that she knew. She knew very well. It had bothered her at one time, in the beginning, but eventually the ideas of true love and other movie-spun fairy tales had faded and she realized that she was in an adult relationship, not some two-hour cheesy romance where the boy will do anything for the girl he loves. Those were just stories. Love like that didn't exist.

"When do you leave?" She tried.

"Early tomorrow morning I have a flight out of Portland," Mark repeated his father's words to him. "But, I have to leave here tonight. Portland is about three hours north."

"But we just got here!"



"Gabriella!" Mark snapped. "Do not act like a spoiled child!" She blushed, dipping her chin down in embarrassment. "I must do this and I will be back as soon as I can." He moved toward the small woman and embraced her. "The car will be left with you. A driver is picking me up shortly."

"Okay," Gabriella beamed up at him. She was used to his abrupt mood shift. He placed a chaste kiss on her lips, always the gentleman, before rounding up the necessary luggage for his new plans. Gabriella watched him pack as she plopped on the large black leather couch.

There were never any butterflies. Never any real sparks between the pair. Mark was the first real relationship Gabriella had ever been in. And so, she didn't know what she was missing. She didn't understand what the touch of a lover should feel like, the craving to be with this person day in and day out, the desire to do anything in her power just to keep them by her side.

Gabriella saw this impromptu business trip as just another fact of life. How was she to know that the next three weeks would change her life in ways that she didn't know existed? It has been said that love can be found in the most unexpected of places, as time will tell.

She felt disappointed to watch Mark leave the house, on his way to Spain, but she was able to function just like any other day. All too soon she would feel the gut-wrenching loss of something so important; she will wonder how she ever survived without it.

Gabriella Montez would find what she had been missing for so long. But how long would that last?