Page 99 of When the Smoke Clears

“She’s no good for him. He’s too sweet.”

He laughs again. “He is a little soft.”

“But he’s still a nice person.”

“A friend?”

I shrug. “Could be.”

The topic softens the tension between us and I settle into the couch, asking about Ireland and listening to my father tell me about his home and family growing up. I still get the impression he’s withholding things, but I focus on the sweet familial things he shares and imagine the landscape he describes.

At least an hour flies by before I stand to leave.

“You dropped something,” James says, following past the couch.

I pat my back pocket, thinking it’s my phone, as I turn. Instead, it’s my pocketknife which I’ve started carrying again. Sutton’s gun is shelved back in the office case.

“Oh. Thanks.” I show him the closed knife in hand before pocketing it. “Pocketknife.”

His eyebrows pull together. “Where did you get that?”

“It was in Nana’s garage when I was a teenager. I’ve had it ever since.”

He opens his hand, palm up. “May I?”

“Sure.” I pull it back out and set it in his hand.

Recognition dawns on his face. “Well, that’s interesting,” he says, twisting the knife over and then handing it back.

“Is it?”

“I gave that to your mam when we were dating.” His eyes crinkle the tiniest bit, the purest joy I’ve seen from him, as he speaks almost reverently.

I open my mouth on an inhale and look back down to the knife. “This was yours?”

He dips his chin. “Yes. For a time.”

What a strange turn of events.

James walks me to the stairs. “Is Stephanie still in town?”

“Yes. I saw her a few days ago.”

“Does she have a plan yet?”

I shake my head. “Doesn’t seem like she’s got anything solid. Sutton and I are moving the rest of my things from my apartment soon, so I think we’ll just keep them at the ranch until she’s gone.”

“Mhm. Ok.” He gestures to the stairs. “Drive safe, Gracie.”

On my way out, I stop by the bar. Ginger eyes me speculatively as I approach.

I extend my hand over the bar. “I’m Maci.”

She sets down the glass she’s over-drying. It takes a moment longer, but she accepts my hand and shakes it briefly.

“I was out of line.” Her words are mumbled, and I get the impression she’s not one to apologize.

I nod. “Yeah. You were. But we all have bad moments, and I didn’t exactly react calmly.” I smile. “I also plan to be around more. Maybe. Probably. Anyway, clean slate.”

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