Page 37 of Chasing the Flame
Elliot is exactly like I thought he would be. He’s charming, kind, and a total cut-up, with jokes that have kept me in stitches the entire night. Throw in the fact he’s ridiculously good at pool, and you have one hell of a man on your hands. Though my gaze has often strayed to a certain carpenter, wondering what he’s thinking about.
Jettson has been quiet for a long time, seemingly reflecting. I haven’t told him yet, but I saw everything. I felt his panic and pain like it was mine. It broke my heart for him, the pain he endures, the worry he feels over the what-ifs.
What if he had opened fire? What if they were just a second too late? What if the person he would’ve killed had a family? The questions have swirled around in my mind, just as I’m sure they’re running around in his.
I’ve wanted to go to him and offer comfort, but I don’t know how he’ll respond, and I don’t want to make anything worse. There’salso the fact we’re still not alone. Though Matt and Tony left several hours ago, Elliot and Lucy are taking their time. They’re enjoying each other’s company, ours, and the night itself.
I’ve never met anyone quite like Lucy.
She has a quiet kind of strength that saturates the air and draws you in. Elliot seems smitten with her, and Jettson seems to enjoy seeing his father happy. It’s written all over his face, even if he hasn’t said much.
Lucy has steered most of the conversation, taking an interest in my life in New York and the book I’m writing. I love that she loves horror, gothic, witchy, and everything else, just like I do. We’ve bonded over the last hour, and she’s already texted her book club to let them know about my novel. A flush climbs my neck as she talks me up, even going as far as handing me her phone and telling me to plug in my number.
I do, and we plan to grab lunch and get our nails done on Monday. My eyes flit to Jettson, finding him watching me with rapt attention. There’s approval in his gaze, and something else. Something that feels a lot like longing and has me squirming in my seat. I’m halfheartedly paying attention as Lucy and Elliot say their goodbyes, squeezing me tightly before kissing my cheek. The tenderness of their actions surprise me, but I melt into it all the same.
As they walk around the corner and into the darkness, I feel the moment the air shifts. Tension heightens to an uncomfortable degree, and the hair on the back of my neck stands on end.
I shift in my seat, feeling the heat of Jettson’s eyes on me. “That was some party,” I whisper, not meeting his gaze.
“Yeah, Dad can be a bit much sometimes. He likes you, though, I can tell. So does Lucy.”
Something about that sentence sends a wave of pride through me, and I can’t help but feel like I’ve passed an unspoken test. “I’m glad,” I say, and I mean it. I’m happy they liked me.
“Come on,” Jettson says. He rises from his seat, grasps my hands, and pulls me toward him with a gentle tug.
“Where are we going?” I ask, excitement coursing through my veins. He doesn’t answer, of course, preferring to keep his secrets. I don’t fight the grin spreading across my face, and I doubt I could even if I tried.
Jettson leads me through a thicket of taller grass and undergrowth, the flashlight on his phone the only light aside from the full moon. Towering trees surround us, and I can hear the crickets chirping in the night. An owl hoots from a nearby perch, the sounds of the forest swallowing our footsteps as we make our way to our destination.
It’s a peaceful kind of quiet, and I don’t have an urge to fill the void with silence. I’m comfortable in Jettson’s presence, probably more comfortable than I’ve ever been with anyone else. It’s a fact I haven’t quite fully addressed, so I shove it down and screw the lid on tight, pushing it aside to examine later.
After several minutes, we reached a clearing filled with river rocks, two oversized chairs, and a fire pit overlooking the lake. My breath hitches in my throat, and my eyes scan the night sky. “Jettson, this is…beautiful,” I say breathily. “Oh! I can see everything.”
The expansive night sky is filled with purples and deep blues, littered with twinkling stars. I can see several familiar constellations and the luminous full moon, and just as I find another one, a shooting star careens across the sky. It’s utterly magnificent.
“I figured this would be a nice way to end the night. I’ll start a fire, and I’ve got some stuff to make s’mores…if you’re interested, of course,” he says, and I turn to thank him for being so thoughtful.
Only...
Seeing him standing there, staring at me with such unabashed desire? It turns my legs to jelly, rooting me to the spot. Lava pools in mycore, igniting and fanning the flames, flooding every vein in my body. The words die on my lips as he invades my space.
Pine, sandalwood, and whiskey assault my senses, and it takes everything in me to stay firmly rooted to my spot. “You deserve nights filled with peace,” he says quietly, his eyes filled with sincerity.
Tears well in the corners of my eyes, and I know this small gesture will stay with me for the rest of my life. A pesky tear slides down my cheek, Jettson smiles and swipes it away with his thumb before moving away. The moment he does, my heart does a little flip-flop in my chest, followed by a pang of regret so sharp it steals my breath.
I hate this feeling, like the world is tilting and changing before my very eyes, and I can’t stop it. I’m not even sure that I want to or that I should.
What’s worse? I don’t even feel the slightest bit of guilt about being here with him. I should… but I don’t. The truth? I feel like I’m exactly where I should be.
With that thought in mind, I sit and watch Jettson get to work, forcing my mind to quiet. He moves quickly, and in minutes the fire is blazing, and marshmallows are roasting in the flames.
There are so many things I want to say to him. Questions are burning in my mind, but I can’t bring myself to break the comfortable silence. It’ssofucking peaceful.
It’s like he reads my mind, too. He smiles at me, holding me captive in the oceanic depths of his gaze. For a moment, everything around me stills. The world goes quiet, and all I see is him.
It’s fucking intoxicating.
Ultimately, he breaks away first, returning his attention to the marshmallows. He pulls a fancy-looking poker out of the fire, inspecting his work. Satisfied, he grabs two graham crackers and a slabof chocolate, smashing the marshmallow in the middle—my mouth waters at the gooey goodness he holds in his hand.
