Page 59 of When the Smoke Clears

A chill creeps over me when I toss the covers back and slide off the side of the large bed. It’s one of the most comforting places in my life, and I have no desire to leave it today. The thought of dealing with anything is too much.

My phone ceases movement and I find it tucked into my crossbody bag. The battery is low, and a local number shows for the missed call. My caller ID suggests it may be Bull Creek Police Department.

Fabulous.

First, I need coffee. And food. I’m starving.

Plus, I highly doubt whatever Detective Porter wants will change in the next thirty minutes. I shove the charger into the port on my bedside table and notice a prepared mug of coffee. It brings a smile to my lips, but it’s cold, and I’m annoyed with myself for sleeping so long. I leave the phone to charge while I shower and prepare for the day. The mood-boosting playlist I blare while I’m getting ready does nothing to help my attitude.

For the first time ever, no one is inside when I enter The Big House to replace my cold coffee. My skin crawls from the absence, even though I don’t have the bandwidth to speak with anyone. The sink drips repetitively while I fill my mug, setting my teeth on edge. Every single sensation feels overwhelming.

I have to get out of here.

I may have gone overboard with the caramel creamer this morning. I nearly get a cavity from my first sip and shake my head at myself as I exit onto the front porch.

Thankfully, the keys are in the Defender. I start it up, heading to a familiar place on the ranch, if only to be alone for a little longer to wallow in my terrible mood. Then I’ll pick myself up and carry on with life, because that’s how the world works.

The blind Sutton took me to not long ago is untouched, as far as I can tell. Instead of going inside it, I find an area between the off-road vehicle and the structure that looks safe enough for sitting. I lie back, staring up the sky. The day is overcast and I study the thick clouds floating through my vision.

I lose track of time, just enjoying being grounded with nature and clearing my mind. The tall grass sings like a rain stick in the breeze, and my body begins to chill. I’m about to return the detective’s call when Sutton’s voice breaks through the trees, calling to the ranch hands. Their responses mingle together and I enjoy being a hidden observer for a moment.

The grass rustles and a horse approaches. Someone jumps down, but I don’t need to see to know it’s him. How he found me, or why, I don’t know.

I lie unmoving, scanning the vicinity, when he comes into view. He smiles softly down at me from near my feet. His top button is undone, white shirt peeking out, with his hat low over his eyes. I want him to take me right here in this space, love away all that eats at me from the inside.

“Hi,” I whisper.

“Hi, yourself,” he says, dropping to one knee when he’s reached my waist. “You hunting something?”

My mouth tips up on one side. “More like avoiding what’s hunting me.”

He sits, stretching out a leg and keeping the other bent, where he rests an arm. “And what would that be?”

“Guilt. Despair.”

His warm hand brushes loose hair from my face and I lean toward his touch as he starts speaking.

“When I was younger, I had this friend—we were in peewee baseball together—and we were five so we were best friends for life, and nothing could ever separate us. Except he had to move.”

I push to sitting, curious about this new detail he’s sharing.

“It was the end of the world. The apocalypse. I’d never have another best friend again.” He grins at me. “But Mama, she told me, ‘Everyone has a purpose in your life. Some are meant to give you something, some are meant to teach you something, and some are meant to take something you don’t need anymore. Some stay for a lifetime and some are only around for a season.’”

He smiles at me, his hand infusing warmth into my face as he cups my cheek and drags his thumb back and forth along my jaw. “It’s like that. Those feelings are part of you for a reason, but that doesn’t mean you have to hold onto them forever.”

Warm tears crest my lashes, and I laugh through them. “You and your mom always have a way of saying just the right thing.”

“Do we?” I appreciate that he’s surprised by my comment. “Must be a learned trait. She always knows just what to say to me.”

I wipe my eyes.

Sutton’s hand slides into my hair. He grips my neck possessively and pulls me forward for a searing kiss. “You are too good to hold onto those things. The only thing you need to hold onto every day is love. And if you can’t feel enough, then I’m not doing my job, and I’ll have to show you more.”

I smile against his warm lips. “I always feel your love.”

His voice is a whisper. “Good.”

I press onto my knees, and his hand falls from my hair. “Maybe I could use alittlemore showing.”

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