Page 71 of Slow Burn
Cole slanted a look in Clyde’s direction. “Oh, sure, gettin’ harassed by gossip mongers and my mama’s bookclub is good for me.”
“We all know Jocelyn’s been asking folks questions.” He tipped his head. “Just tryin’ to understand, seems like.”
Cole shrugged, not keen on confirming or denying. “Was a tough thing, what happened.”
“Sure was.” Clyde nodded sagely. “Don’t blame her for the askin’, whether it ruffles feathers or not.”
Ruffling feathers. Was that all it was? The notes didn’t seem to say so.
“Anyway, a man needs to be harassed now and then.” Clyde caught his wife’s eye. Dottie was staring him down with a glint as sharp as it was deadly. “Speaking of bein’ harrassed. I’ve been gone from the voting too long.”
Cole grunted as Clyde moved along back to the table where his wife stomped her foot at him. Maybe more people didn’t mind Jocelyn bein’ back as much as it’d seemed at first, and that sent a measure of relief through him.
Hell if he could explain why he cared so much so fast.
Maybe it was how her hand had fit in his like it belonged there. Or the way she carried that fire in her, sharp and restless. Or maybe it was ‘cause the busted-up parts of her looked a bit like his, like maybe they could fit them together if they angled them just right.
It wasn’t just about her mama’s story or his making wishes, and it damn sure wasn’t for show. He wasn’t fooling anybody—least of all himself. He decided there was no use trying to.
He spotted Jocelyn just as she finished talking to Natasha, leaving her to her friends. She was scanning the crowd, looking for him. He could tell ‘cause the second she caught sight of him, she smiled.
Something tugged at his center like there was a rope looped around his chest and she’d grabbed hold, pulling him in slow, hand over hand.
She didn’t move. Just stood there waiting like she knew he’d come to her. But there was something different in her face. A look he hadn’t seen before. It shot straight through him, sharp and fast, rattling up his spine like a jolt from a live wire.
He was nearly to her, hands halfway out like they had a mind of their own—and from the look in her eyes, she was ready for it, too—when a sound cut through the air, clean and sharp like a blade through ripe fruit.
His hands dropped back as they both turned toward the firehouse. The crowd’s energy vanished like smoke in the wind, sucked clean away by the sudden rush of movement over there.
“A fire?” There was something laced in Jocelyn’s voice, a knowing that chilled him.
He didn’t think. Just slipped his hands around her waist and pulled her in close while he scanned the sky, looking for the telltale orange glow or a smear of black smoke cutting through the night.
“Might be somethin’ else,” he said, but the lack of conviction bled through. Even if the fire crew was called out to every emergency, always tag-teaming with the medical side, that knowing sat in his gut, too.
And then he spotted it. “There.” He nodded east, where a faint glow shimmered low on the horizon—out past where town gave way to fields and trees.
The firetruck screamed to life, siren howling as it peeled off in that direction. It laid on the horn as it barreled out of the square, the sound low and mean.
Jocelyn’s fingers curled into the fabric of Cole’s shirt as voices started to cut through the fog in his head—sharp, urgent. Words like “Joe Murphy’s place” snapped into focus, slicing through the rumble of the crowd, the buzz in his brain.
Jocelyn’s grip tightened as she looked up at him. She’d heard it, too.
“I’ll drive,” Cole said, tugging her toward the Nail so they could cut through the back to get to his truck.
“My car’s closer.” Her voice was too soft, too small. She pulled the keys from her bag and shoved them into his hand without looking up.
He just nodded and jogged with her across the street, keeping a grip on her as something hot and electric cracked through hisnerves. Outwardly, he kept steady. Inside, he was all fire and kindling.
Joe’s place wasn’t far past city limits, but it wasn’t exactly easy to find, either. Nearest neighbors were a good half-mile off, tucked behind thick trees that offered privacy most days, but tonight they were a risk. One strong gust and that fire could jump the line, set the whole ridge ablaze. Tennessee usually got enough rain to keep wildfire fears at bay, but it wasn’t unheard of.
Jocelyn didn’t say a word the whole ride. Just sat there stiff as stone, eyes flicking to the speedometer every few seconds—even though he was already riding the edge of too fast. She was so still, he might’ve thought she wasn’t breathing if he couldn’t hear each tight breath scraping through the thick silence between them.
If it was Joe’s place, she’d be thinking it was intentional. The rest of the town? They’d chalk it up to her drunk of an uncle screwing up again. Sure, he’d cleaned up lately, but folks around here didn’t trust change until it held steady for a decade or two. Even then, plenty still clung to the worst version of a person.
Cole didn’t know where he landed on it. Didn’t really matter. Her opinion outweighed his a thousand times over. But he’d been watched for slip ups long enough to know how established opinions could linger.
Jocelyn leaned forward, bracing her hands on the dash as they turned onto Joe’s drive.
