Page 23 of Angel's Smoke

“Crack jokes when you otherwise wouldn’t.”

“Excuse me? I happen to adore humor. It always makes the best out of any situation, even the gloomy ones.”

“Not when it costs you so much to say it.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“It’s in the eyes,” he noted. “Yours seem to strain at the corners when you’re trying to make light of something, like you’re forcing yourself to hold eye contact. Elevated cortisol levels, which can be brought on by stress, can add to eye strain. You don’t need to do that with me. I’m not here for comedy.”

Anna felt her jaw practically unhinge from her skull. “And what the hellareyou here for, exactly? That has got to be the rudest thing anyone has ever said to me in my own?—”

“You. Because you reached out to me.”

The statement was delivered with the finality of the mountains around them, of rock standing still while time shuttled forth in inconsequential increments.

No one had ever summed up need in so few words, and it almost—almost—was enough to quell the apprehension stiffening her limbs ever since she’d parked her butt in that chair and fanned the flames of her memories, if dreams could even be called such.

Iron must have seen some glimmer of unease streak across her face because his features hardened, and he scooted forward on the couch cushion. “I’m sorry. Let me start over.” He gentled his tone with a practiced precision that made herwonder how easilyhecould shift intonation when he otherwise wouldn’t.

Grab your slingshot and pack that little nugget away for later.

“To answer your questions, I go by Iron. No surname. I’ve worked every gig under the sun but lately have taken on foreman duties at a construction job. I have a penchant for metallurgy, a moderately severe coffee addiction, and currently live with my brothers who I’m convinced keep me around because I’m the only one who knows the Wi-Fi password.”

Her sharp giggle couldn’t be helped, and he smiled at that, even as she tried to quickly put her unamused expression back in place.

“I also hate long walks on the beach, prefer winter to summer, have a deep love for Korean food, know my way around several forms of martial arts and other hand-to-hand combat, and, in a former life, dabbled as a Dungeon Master when my brothers were going through their Dungeons and Dragons phase.”

“Wow.”

His lips creased at the corner. “Wow?”

“Except for the coffee addiction and perhaps the construction job, I can’t say I would have guessed much, if any, of that.”

“Didn’t know we were playing a guessing game.”

Anna shook her head. “We weren’t. I just didn’t expect to hear such a colorful menagerie of accomplishments coming from . . .” She let the sentence die off as soon as she realized the picture it painted.

Far too late, however, Iron snagged those words and seemed to steer her ship toward the iceberg of regret faster than she could avoid it. “Coming from . . . who? Someone who looks like they bench-press semitrucks in their spare time, buys his clothes from the Army Navy surplus store, and hasn’t let the sun hit his jawline since global warming became an actual thing and not just a cause to support with hashtags and protest signs?”

“That, sir, was completely and totally uncalled for,” she snapped, then gentled her tone, the corner of her mouth ticking up a hair. “Last I checked, you needed at least three visible tattoos to even be eligible for the service member discount at most Army Navy stores. Otherwise, what’s the point of shopping there? No one wants to pay full freight for tactical gear and paintball guns.”

Iron’s laughter was like a cathedral bell’s peal, reverberating through her homely cabin with a magnetism that had her heart fluttering in time to its zeal.

“Well, you’ve figured me out, then,” he said, leaning back and spreading his arms wide. “The clothes, the character. Whatever else you want to know, I’m all yours.”

Though he said those words in jest, they filled Anna with anything but humor. Instead, shards of ice flooded her veins as her earlier worries rose to the surface, breaking free of the lighthearted barrier that had begun to form over them.

Images of that final dream pricked her eyes, shuttling to the forefront one very stark, very clear image of almost those exact words being spoken to her.

With a cold calm she in no way felt, Anna removed her glasses and made a show of rubbing at her eyes with her other hand. The glasses swung loosely from her fingers in a manner that no one who’d paid as much for her prescription and frames as she had would ever risk, but risk it she did.

She had to know, had to make sure.

The frames fell from her grasp and clattered to the floor, half on and half off the area rug near her feet. Still too far away.

“Whoops.” When she reached down to grab them, with one hand still holding her mug, she bent awkwardly in her chair to hide the flick of her wrist that sent the glasses skittering across the floor to rest closer to Iron.

Nottooclose. Just close enough.

---