Page 181 of Smoke and Fire
He broke my trance with a voice I remembered all the way to my bones.
“It’s good to see you, Dahlia.”
His words trembled a little bit. He’d tucked his hands into his pockets, but I wondered if they shook like mine. It had only taken a few seconds of us staring at each other to produce a physical reaction in my body.
Six months.
I hadn't seen him or heard his voice in six months.
Our breakup had been amicable. Or, at least, not angry. Not desperate. Not woven with deceit and treachery and unfaithfulness. The relationship had been slowly dying. A general letting go. Drifting apart. The most agonizing death of love: disinterest.
When we broke up, I dissolved all ties to our former life together. My job, my apartment, my life outside LA. I packed, sold, pawned, and got rid of everything until all I had was cash-in-hand and the urge to leave.
Which led me right to my RV.
For months, I'd wondered if I'd made a mistake. Could love be resurrected? After five years together, did we not care enough to work hard and save each other? If so . . . why not? Why couldn't five years of our combined lives be enough of a base for us tofightfor each other?
Those questions plagued me again.
He stepped forward once. The counter stood between us, but I shifted back out of instinct. That made me feel more confused. Jakob posed no danger to me, yet I didn't want him near.
Why?
He stopped, clearly troubled.
I licked my lips and asked, “What are you doing here?”
Disbelief, even defensiveness, colored my tone. Jakob rubbed a hand across the back of his neck. He studied me, but didn't make eye contact. Like he wanted to drink me in, but couldn't face me.
“I came to talk to you," he said.
“All the way from LA?”
He hesitated. Did I imagine that he seemed to silently ask himself the same doubt-filled questions? Why did I feel like a wary cat?
“Yes, from LA." He nodded with a half shrug. "You’ve . . . you haven’t been around very much and I wanted to see you. Six months is a long time. Your parents said you've been driving the RV around this whole time.”
"Oh," I whispered. "Yes. I have."
You don't want to talk to him,Inner Me pointed out, sounding a bit gleeful.You once thought you'd give anything for him to stand in front of you again, just like this. But now that he's here, do you feel the relief you expected? The elation?
No,I thought.
The truth shocked me.
“I can see that this may not have been the best idea," he said quietly. His fingers drummed a beat on his pants. "You don't seem like you want to talk."
"I mean . . . I guess I do?" I rubbed a hand over my forehead. "I'm sorry, Jakob. You've just . . . you've taken me by surprise. I'm not really sure what to think."
His mein came across calmer than I would have expected. This casual Jakob looked a lot like the man I originally fell in love with. The gentle touches. Quiet words. Jakob had always been easygoing . . . until he became bored and routine and disinterested.
The return to the Jakob I loved should have brought a complicated jumble of emotions. Instead, I didn’t feel as much as I expected. Affection rooted in shared history, sure. Maybe some regret and lingering sadness. The rush of attraction, though, didn’t follow. I stepped back again until I felt the other counter at my hip. He didn’t venture closer.
“How’d you know I was here?” I asked.
"You posted about it on social media.”
My nostrils flared. Yep. Definitely did that. A bit creepy that he'd followed through on it, though, without contacting me. A flicker of movement in the parking lot caught my eye. A group of four girls moved toward the shop.
