Page 199 of Smoke and Fire
My stomach rumbled, never satisfied. “That would be great.”
She shut the door, locked it, and headed to the kitchen. “Let’s t-talk in here. I c-can’t wait to hear. Rumor m-mill says that you were with D-dahlia today. C-c-considering she showed up here unexp-p-pectedly the other day, I can’t wait to hear th-the updates.”
Over a bowl of chili and corn chips, I let the whole story spill. I started with the moment I met Dahlia at the coffee shop and had the wild idea.
My retelling laid it all open. I didn’t hold back the truth about Jess, because how could I? I couldn’t explain Dahlia working for me, my obsession with her video updates, or my confusing anxiety over how to speak to her without explaining why we came together.
Finally telling the truth required so much time my voice went hoarse. These were things I hadn’t released ever, so I let them spill and spill and spill and spill without realizing how deep the need to be totally open had been.
Dagny listened, eyes wide. Once I finished speaking, she leaned back in her chair.
“J-jess,” she murmured. “Wow.”
What should I say to that? Her disbelief was well founded.
“You know,” she murmured, “I n-never thought you were a writer. J-jayson and I always d-d-debated what you did on the c-computer.” Her eyes sparkled. “I said d-day trader. He said online c-c-counselor for kids that d-didn’t know what they wanted to d-do for their life and thought ab-bout being f-f-firefighters.”
I tilted my head back and laughed. Hernandez, the idiot. I’d never been to college and had no active plans to start now. Certainly wouldn’t be paid to guide other people in their lives. I didn’t even know how to manage my own. Dagny was closer, but still way off.
Her amusement calmed. She reached across the table, nudging aside my empty chili bowl, and put a hand on mine. I looked right in her eyes.
“I’ll k-k-keep your secret, B-bastian. I won’t tell Jayson ab-bout Jess . . . but I still think that y-y-you should.”
“I know. I will. It’s not fair of me to ask you to keep secrets from your husband. Just . . . give me a little time?”
Her hand withdrew. “Of course. J-Just let me know how else I can help. All the M-m-merry Idiots love you, whether they’ll say it or n-not. They all w-w-want the b-best for you, too. W-whatever that is, l-l-let us know, okay? B-besides,” she added with a sour sigh, “n-no matter how crazy your life s-s-seems, you’re doing better than V-vik.”
The comment wasn’t misplaced either. Vikram had become a hot mess. After taking off to the Arctic to go dog-sledding last year for our first annual Merry Idiots adventure together, he’d injured his knee and already suffered through two surgeries. His attitude hadn’t improved since he took leave from his job as a train driver and wallowed in an apartment in Jackson City, feeling sorry for himself. All my attempts to speak with him had only yielded text messages and stalemates. After this fire, I’d go shake him up a bit, remind him not to be an idiot.
“B-but let’s talk about D-dahlia,” she said with a brighter tone. “Th-that’s the real m-meat of this c-conversation.”
I lifted an eyebrow. “Do I want to hear what you’re going to say?”
“D-d-depends on how much you l-like her."
“What’s that mean?”
She smiled with warmth. “I think she’s w-wonderful. I think you like her and you’re scared out of your m-m-mind about it. You’ve always t-t-tried to d-do things all on your own. D-don’t push her away.”
“I like her.”
“I can tell.”
I spread my hands. “What do I do? I don’t know how to approach this. I get all up in my head.” I threw my hands in the air, then leaned back and closed my eyes. “My life is too crazy to bring someone else into it. I’m taking care of too many people. I’m . . .”
“D-desperate for help but unwilling to t-take it?”
“Maybe,” I mumbled.
“Lonely and sad b-but don’t trust any w-woman with your heart?”
I sighed. “Yes.”
The quick admission pained me, but her honesty finally hit a truth that neededto be thumped a bit. Dad had always been proud of my self-sufficiency, but maybe I’d taken it a bit too far.
She smiled warmly at me. “Time for ch-change, Bash.”
“Thanks, Dagny.”
