Love in Smoke

by Holly Hall

  “Before I get into anything else, is the fact that you think you have nowhere to go the only thing keeping you here?”

  I can’t deny that his doubt in my intentions stings, but I know I’ve left plenty of room for doubt. “Other than the risk that I might be putting you in a more vulnerable position, there’s nothing I regret about the decision to stay. I couldn’t leave you.”

  His mouth twitches, but he doesn’t fully smile. “I’m glad you’re here, and also frustrated with you for staying. And, in response to the other stuff, I think there’s something we all wish we could change about ourselves, especially at seventeen. That doesn’t make us horrible people. We make mistakes and we learn from them.”

  I jiggle my knee, agitated. “Like I said, you didn’t know me then. I gravitate toward chaos. My senior year, I was at a party where another girl got alcohol poisoning and died. She died, and nobody there could do anything to stop it, they were so high. That shook me. I was dating the same dead-end losers because I thought they were exciting and would take me to new, better places or something. I finally straightened up, ditched all my old friends, swore I’d never turn back to those types of people again. Then I fell in love with a musician and somehow expected things to turn out differently.” I curl my toes beneath me, folding in on myself. Like if I make myself smaller, it will make all my indiscretions and misjudgments smaller too.

  “Now I’m involved in this, and I have the nerve to wonder why. It’s because I’m bound to act in patterns. There’s no escaping it. And maybe I’m better off alone because of that.”

  “Stop it.” Dane stands from his chair and kneels down beside mine, directing my chin so I have to face him. “Whatever happened to that girl, that wasn’t your fault.”

  The concern in my eyes makes me hurt. Why do things that are good have to be surrounded by so much bad?

  “That’s your thing, isn’t it? You have faith in everybody. Maybe that’s why you’re stuck in the situation you’re in now.” I didn’t plan those words to come out of my mouth. They leave a bitter aftertaste.

  “Maybe,” he says softly, filling me with regret.

  “I didn’t mean that.”

  “I know. You refer to yourself so negatively, and yet, in the months I’ve known you, there are things you try to hide that are impossible for me to ignore. You’re loyal to a fault. You don’t have many friends here, but you’re devoted to them. You’ve dedicated yourself to helping Lynn shake the dust off her company and get it off the ground. You’re accepting. You gave me a chance, when I did everything in my past to destroy all rights to second chances. Maybe you’re holding yourself back, in a way, because you don’t see yourself as anything but your mistakes.”

  It seems like a harmless enough statement until his words shake me all the way to my foundation and rattle something loose within me.

  “I don’t have many deep words, so listen close. I don’t know when you’ll hear them next. My mom used to tell me something: ‘You can only grow within the confines you give yourself.’ What if you forget about everything you think should limit you and your happiness? What then? What could the possibilities be?”

  The piece that rattled loose falls, and everything I’d built up into a precarious pile of doubt and self-deprecation comes tumbling down. Those were the excuses that kept me safe. From harm, from failure. I kept myself locked up in a box of restrictions instead of flying because I didn’t want anyone to see me fall. I’ve fallen way too hard, way too often. Now, there’s something else growing in that void. Or maybe it’s already grown, and now it’s standing a little straighter with my awareness of it.

  The touch of Dane’s finger as he slips it under my chin to lift my head alerts me to his penetrative stare.

  “And you don’t have nobody. You have me. You didn’t leave when I told you to. I won’t leave if you beg me to.”

  I close my eyes and inhale, finding his hand in my blindness and squeezing it. Something about this moment—this moment of light amid so much dark—seems right.

  “You asked me what the possibilities would be if I took away all the other shit.” I open my eyes and stare at his chest. I don’t have many brave moments, but this is one of them. “It’s quite possible that I love you.”

  I watch his chest rise and fall, and then I meet his eyes. They are looking back at me, bright and thoughtful.

  “It’s quite definite that I love you,” he replies, and it feels like my breath both leaves me and fills me up at the same time. I lean forward until our foreheads touch, our exhales mingling, and then I close the distance and fit my mouth to his, kissing him with my newfound strength.

  TWENTY-FOUR

  By morning, I am high on love. I could hardly sleep for it. Outside these walls, uncertainty prowls, but here in this bed, reassurance reigns. My sleep was restful, but then I woke up.

  I stare at the ceiling and listen to Dane’s steady breathing, his legs heavy where they’re entwined with mine. There’s nothing I regret about the words I said last night or the realizations I made. I wouldn’t allow those four letters to be tarnished by regret. It’s just that when my thoughts provide the loudest noise in this quiet morning, they remind me of how much I don’t know about Dane. How much we have left to figure out. We’re living in the now, but we’ve done nothing to plan for tomorrow. Beyond this situation, I don’t know where that leaves us.

  Will we stay or leave? And if we leave, would we just keep living together like we’ve been forced to now? We’ve only known each other a couple of months, and not all of those were spent actively dating. In fact, most of them were spent actively avoiding, on my part. All this thinking is making my head hurt, and I haven’t even gotten out of bed yet.

  I slip out from beneath the covers and grab a shirt from the floor, dragging it over my head. After I’ve washed my face and brushed my teeth, Dane’s propped up on his forearms, the covers pooled at his waist.

  “What are you doing up already?”

  “I couldn’t sleep,” I say. I don’t think the discussion brewing in my mind is best suited for the morning.

  “Come sit with me.”

  I can’t help it. His mussed hair and sleepy smile makes me grin and blurs my worries until they’re hazy and undefined. I perch on the edge of the bed and let him take my hand. He holds it up as if he’s inspecting it, tracing his fingers over mine.

  “What are you thinking about?”

  When I look over at him, he’s scrutinizing my expression. “Nothing we have to talk about now.”

  “If you’re worried about something, you don’t need to wait to bring it up.” Dane pushes himself up into a sitting position.

  “I don’t want to assume anything, or think that after last night we have to make any life-altering decisions. I’m just not sure what to expect. There will be a time when we don’t have to lay low here, and I’m not sure where that leaves us.”

  Dane is contemplative for just a few seconds before he speaks. “Okay. Good question. First of all, when this is over, I want to take you on a date. Something normal, like dinner and a movie. No hiking, no shooting. Although you do look pretty damn sexy holding a gun.” I look up at him, and his mischievous smirk makes me flush. “It’s always been my goal to leave, but I won’t make you follow me. It wouldn’t be fair. But, if you’re not completely in love with this place, I’d like you to come with me.”

  “But where will you go when all this ends?”

  He lifts the covers and pulls me between his legs so my back is against his chest. “There’s this place my parents used to take us when we were young, on Lake Glenville in North Carolina. An old cabin. We used to fish and explore, and my mom would cook what we caught for dinner every night. I remember there being so many fireflies there. I haven’t been to many places outside of Heronwood, but I’ve seen plenty on TV, and nothing compares to that little cabin. I guess I’ve just always dreamed of going back.”

  “Sounds like heaven,” I muse. His reverent tone tugs at my h
eartstrings. “My sister and her husband are at Fort Bragg.”

  “Well, Glenville is closer to that than Heronwood is. We could work something out. Then I could date you normally, for once.” His palm finds its way beneath my shirt, up my side, and he absentmindedly rubs his thumb over my ribs.

  “No guns and no safe-houses?”

  He chuckles. “Maybe a few guns. You can take the boy out of Tennessee, but you can’t take Tennessee out of the boy.”

  I roll my eyes at that lame joke, and just as I go to get out of bed, Dane catches me by the hip and drags me back to him, covering us both with the sheets so it’s like we’re inside a makeshift tent. We kiss a little bit, we touch a little bit, and the morning slides by slowly and sweetly.

  Dane leaves for work later—after I reassure him a hundred times that I’ll be fine—promising he’ll have someone drive by to check on things every so often. Vicente Santos, I surmise. I’ll admit, the guy was definitely rough around the edges, but he proved his loyalty to Dane by looking out for me, at the risk of being exposed as Dane’s ally. That decision couldn’t have been an easy one to make, but, as Dane explained, the Santoses look after their own and they never back down from a fight. Dane did them a huge favor back when his moral lines were hazier and situations like these weren’t such a rarity. He didn’t explain what it was, but I get the impression that one of the Santoses owes Dane a lot. Maybe even his life.

  I laze around with Gulliver for a while before I get restless. I need to get out of this house, but I don’t want to risk being followed again. We make laps around the weedy yard until that gets boring, too, then we explore the woods a bit. The trees form a horseshoe around the house, a border of oaks to the back that curves around the east side to the front, extending to the farm road. Trees completely block the view from the road, so it’s become the perfect hideaway for us.

  Gulliver and I can’t go far, though, because the underbrush is too thick, and I don’t want to chance being seen by passersby. So we head back to the house, and I heat a TV dinner in the microwave and resort to checking my emails for entertainment. Scrolling past the coupon offers and sale announcements, I spot one from Serena titled Lynn’s Designs Concept. I click on it, my excitement bubbling.

  Serena’s sent attachments of what she’s been working on, as well as a short explanation as to why she chose the design elements that she did. As usual, she’s succinct and to the point, offering no backup plan in case Lynn is dissatisfied. She’s confident in her designs, and she has a right to be. They’re nothing like I expected. They’re better. But I’m not the one she needs to impress.

  I could send these over to Lynn, but I’d rather pitch them to her in person. These ideas are modern and fresh and, frankly, a little intimidating. Nothing like what she’s used in the past. But I think they’re unique and different enough to set her apart. I give Dane a call to see what he thinks about me just going straight over to Lynn’s and back, but he doesn’t answer. He’s busy, and I don’t want to bother him with it. Besides, I doubt the ink-scaled man, whoever he is, has enough free time in the day to skim Heronwood’s backstreets for me. Even criminals have day jobs.

  Gulliver watches me morosely as I grab my purse and go to walk out the door, so I give him a pat and a kiss on the head before locking up. I then call Lynn to let her know I have a surprise for her. She sounds wary and sour, and she tells me she hates surprises, but I don’t let that bring me down. I have a feeling these mock-ups are going to turn her mood right around.

  I’m careful as I’m driving, at least I think I am, glancing up and down the roads before I turn onto them and keeping an eye on my rearview mirror. There’s no white truck in sight, and that fills me with relief. Then I remember the tatted stranger could be driving literally anything—my imagination is running away with me now—and my anxiety climbs a little more. Every car and hatchback and John Deere tractor earns a scrutinizing look from me, but I see no one on the road who resembles my attacker.

  Once I turn into the safety of Lynn’s driveway, I’m full to bursting, my anticipation and excitement nearly boiling over. The only thing I know for sure is she’s going to either hate the ideas or love them. There’s no in between, especially with Lynn. When I don’t find her in the barn, I go to the house, and a very grumpy Lynn opens the door.

  “I only have one rule for you being here—do not judge me. You gave me hardly any notice, and I’m in the middle of a mac-n-cheese binge.”

  My gaze skips over her frizzed hair and torn pajama shirt, landing on spotted cow slippers. “Pregnancy looks good on you,” I crack, and she pretends to shut the door in my face.

  “All right, come in. But this better be good, you betch. You’re interrupting cheese, for god’s sake.”

  I follow her inside to the kitchen, where there is, indeed, a pot of mac-n-cheese. The good, homemade kind, not the stuff from a box. Although I’m not one to judge when it comes to macaroni. “Oh, it’s good, but I’m gonna need you to keep an open mind.”

  Lynn freezes, her spoon poised above the pot. “Oh, god. What? Did you see Adam with another girl? That one from Speed-E Mart?”

  “No! What the hell?”

  “What? I hear suspicion is normal when you’re pregnant. I’m growing a basketball in my belly, and every time we have sex, for the next five months, it’s going to be there. Between us. Just getting larger and larger.”

  “Okay, no. Let’s not . . .” I wave my hands in the air and take out my phone. She needs a distraction from this fictional dilemma she’s fixed on, and I’m just the one to give it to her. “So, Serena emailed me some concepts for your marketing materials. And they’re good, Lynn. They’re really good.” I smile to myself, pulling up the email.

  “Like I said, keep an open mind,” I remind her before clicking on the photo of the proof for a new entry sign. The modern lettering is silver, crisp against a rustic wood background, and instead of keeping the original name, Serena chose one word: Reclaim.

  Lynn leans in over my shoulder, and I watch as her expression changes from curiosity to . . . anger? Her forehead creases and her lips form a thin line.

  She hates it.

  “It’s . . . nothing like I expected. It’s not what I wanted!” Her hand drops to her side. I bite my lip in anticipation of her next words.

  “It’s kick ass! Simple. Clean. It catches the eye. This is exactly what I need!” Finally, her voice reaches the pitch I was hoping to hear from the beginning. “Reclaim. Why didn’t I ever think of that? Your sister is a genius. Oh, sorry, we’re not supposed to like her. Right?”

  I roll my eyes. “We can like her a little bit. So you love it?”

  “Yes!” In a rare display of affection, she throws an arm around my shoulder and pulls me close, and I slump with relief.

  “I could punch you right now, but you’re pregnant. You had me so worried!” I exclaim. “Come on, there’s a lot more. Business cards, advertising ideas, the works.”

  We take over the couch in Lynn’s living room, and I show her everything Serena sent me. Her excitement grows with every concept photo, and it’s distracted her from the macaroni. That in itself is probably a win. Adam is working, so our little celebration is only interrupted when Dane calls. Lynn sees the name on my phone and raises her eyebrows, making suggestive eyes at me.

  “I’ll explain later,” I promise her. “But right now, I need to take this outside.”

  I feel the heat of her suspicious gaze all the way across the room and to the front door. Once I’m outside on the porch, I bring the phone to my ear. “Hey, I’m sorry, I tried calling you earlier.”

  “It’s okay. You made it to Lynn’s all right?”

  “Yes, no issues.” I glance back at the door, then amble further from the house. “Serena sent over Lynn’s business stuff, so I wanted to show it to her in person. She’s really excited.”

  “I’m glad. Listen, I might be back late, so it’s probably better you’re there, anyway. I got a tip from one of my old
buddies. It’s big. I need to check around to get the details, but . . . I might have a way to end this.”

  It’s good news, but there’s a current of tension beneath his words that makes me freeze. I know enough from what he’s told me thus far, and from my limited personal experience, to assume that nothing involving Trey and the guys he runs with ends positively.

  Catching my silence, Dane’s voice lowers. “Hey, I’ve got you, okay? We’re going to get through this, and then we’re going to get the hell out of here. We have plans, you and me.”

  I nod to nobody, rubbing the hem of my shirt between my fingers. “Yeah. Okay. Be careful.”

  “I will. I definitely love you.”

  “I definitely love you,” I respond automatically. Then I hang up, and fear creeps through me like fog. Gripping the porch railing, I tell myself that Dane will be okay. He’ll figure out a way to get Trey off our backs, and then we’ll be free.

  I have no qualms about leaving this town, now. It’s the place where I finally took a leap and lived by myself for the first time. It’s been the site of realizations and the birthplace of a few fond memories. Aside from those things, and finding friendship in Lynn, I don’t have much tying me here.

  “You guys are screwing, aren’t you?” It’s my greeting as soon as I rearrange my expression and walk in the door. And just like that, my mask of indifference is replaced by a blank face and a slackened jaw.

  “Well damn, it’s not the end of the world, Raven, I’m just calling it like I see it,” Lynn admonishes me with a scowl. The pot of macaroni is in her lap, and she’s got cheese on her forearms.

  I look down at the phone in my hand, then back up at her, giggles rising within me until I can’t help it anymore and they just spill out. I flop down beside her and lean my head back, allowing myself a good long laugh until tears stream from the corners of my eyes. It sounds so no-nonsense coming from her mouth, and maybe it is. Maybe when you take away all the other stuff, it could be that simple.