Page 202 of Smoke and Fire
Dahlia:This sudden change of plans doesn’t have anything to do with how much vulnerability you showed yesterday, does it?
Her question turned my chest to ice. Well. There was a point-blank question if I’d ever seen one.
At first, I had no idea how to respond. My thumb hesitated over the phone. The truth or a lie were my only options, and I respected her too much to lie.
I settled for somewhere in the middle.
Bastian:Probably.
Dahlia:I’m on your side, Bastian. You don’t have to do it all alone, you know? You shouldn’t. I’d love to help. And I’d love to see you again.
Her moxie deserved respect. She fearlessly put the truth out there. I swallowed past the lump in my throat and leaned my head back against the headrest. Nope. Didn’t want to deal with this right now.
Five minutes passed before I found the words in my spinning mind and typed a reply.
Bastian:Thanks. Give me time.
The dark feeling of being an utter jerk crawled over me as I climbed out of Dad’s truck. I’d just shut her and her kindness down in a cold way.
First, I changed plans. Second, I messaged her instead of calling. Forming words and articulating them in person was too much to ask right now. Third, I did the over-the-phone equivalent of turning my back and walking away without explanation.
Now, I walked into Dad’s house and fought off the panic. Sirens blared in my head, screeching around like strobe lights. There was no way to think through anxiety. I just had to put some space between me and this situation so I could massage it with time.
In the distance, the smoke plume doubled. Reports spoke of high winds overnight, and I had the creeping feeling that my reckoning with fire had just about come due.
23
DAHLIA
4:00 the next morning came fartoo early.
Bleary from lack of sleep, though not from a book this time, but from Jess him/herself, I shuffled around the Frolicking Moose with a coffee in hand, one-handedly attempting to do my job.
The constant flow of caffeine took awhile to chug my brain back to life. My phone vibrated with alerts from social media, but I ignored it for now. Those could wait for later. Residual release posts, probably.
When the caffeine revived my brain, I almost wished it hadn’t.
Questions lay there.
Yesterday had been a vague blur. A weird conundrum. Bastian and I had parted at the end of our previous day with some strangeness between us. Both of us seemed to feel it, like the end of an intense time when we both needed space to think.
That didn’t bother me much. I’d wanted some time to process through everything I’d witnessed, and lunch with him had been easy going despite the day.
His ditched attempt to see me yesterdaydidbother me, however. Clearly, he’d gotten into his own head.
Butwhy?
What did it mean?
Did I push him too hard? I’d come at him with pure, observant truth. Maybe he hadn’t been ready for it. Pele told me all the time I came on too strong when I felt like I was right. Maybe my cousin had wisdom I didn’t.
Bastian remained an utter puzzle to me. Reading the latest Jess release didn’t help matters. Knowing him better now, though I didn’t know the details of his non-fire-affected life super well, I saw him laid out in the words.
Love interests with lingering maladies. Grouchy and imperfect, often broody males. The quiet way he spoke, normally saying so little, put him at odds with his chattering protagonists that bubbled full of life.
Katrina lay amidst the maze of problems. Was she still around? She’d indicated a likelihood that she’d be here for a few more days, but doing what? It was entirely possible she’d stationed herself at the shop yesterday while Lizbeth ran the place. Katrina could have staked out looking for Jess all day . . . but I doubted it.
Something else brewed there.
