Page 115 of Secondhand Smoke
Her voice was high-pitched and hoarse. Tears streamed through her delirious grin, and the salt sliding into her mouth kept her grounded against the threatening escape of her mind.
Her right hand slid into her coat pocket, wrapping around the baggie inside for comfort.
Her mother sobbed into her hands.
“Well then.” Her father’s voice was dangerously calm, low and steady, his face as pale as her mother’s. “If that is the case, you have no place here anymore.”
Nell blinked.
“George.” Her mother gasped, halting her wails in shock.
“Right.” Nell had no reason to argue. Her childhood room had long since felt like a stranger, the hallways an ever-changing maze. “That’s something we can agree on.”
Nell pushed past them into her room, taking only minutes to stuff the necessities into the weekend bag she already had.
Her mother weakly objected but couldn’t stop crying long enough to get anything useful out. Her father said nothing as hewatched from her doorway like a warden assigned to escort her away for trespassing.
She did so without complaint, or objection, or force. She walked out, got on her bike, and left.
45 - Barrett
Barrett stared at Nell. She stared back at him from the top step of his porch, mussed hair stuck to her forehead with sweat and shaking lip pulled between her teeth. Her appearance had done a 180 from their lunch date just a couple of hours ago.
Barrett blinked, then his hand slipped off the doorknob and he reached toward her face. Only when his fingers brushed her skin did he feel the wet streaks on her cheek. “What’s wrong?”
Nell’s face twisted and broke down.
Before she could get a strangled word out, Barrett grabbed her arms and pulled her into the house, curling her tight into his arms. She grabbed fistfuls of his shirt as her sobs took over.
Nell’s thin frame shook in his hold, cries muffled by his shoulder. His hand held her to him, rubbing along the back of her head, as he struggled to find the right balance between asking her if she was okay and offering murmurs of comfort.
What he was comforting her about, he wasn’t quite sure yet.
“The hell is going on out here—”
They both jumped at the loud yell emerging from the room. Nell hiccupped, pulling away in surprise, as Barrett spun.
Ron stared at them. His eyes were wide and bloodshot from clearly having just woken up.
Barrett cursed internally. He’d forgotten Ron was home.
“O-oh,” Nell said, her voice hoarse. She tried to clear it. “I’m sorry to bother you.”
Ron didn’t respond immediately. His narrowed eyes surveyed the scene in front of him, spotting Nell frantically wiping the tears from her face, then focusing on Barrett’s arm still wrapped around Nell’s waist.
He raised a brow.
Barrett’s first instinct was to pull away, but what was the point?
Barrett cleared his throat. “Let’s go talk in my room,” he said to Nell, pinning Ron with a look that successfully got him to stay quiet as he guided her toward his bedroom.
He closed and locked the door behind them.
Nell’s shoulders drooped as soon as the lock clicked, and her legs seemed to give out as she sat on the edge of his bed. She dropped her face into her hands. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have come here. I just—”
“Hey, hey. No.” Barrett shook his head, kneeling in front of her to slowly pull her hands down, which gave him a clear view of her face. Her cheeks were splotchy and red from the crying, her blue eyes glistening. God, how could she be so beautiful even like this? “I’m glad you came. You know you’re always welcome.”
She sniffled and nodded. “My parents found out about us.”
