Page 67 of Ablaze

My brows pinch, my heart steadily hammering inside my chest. “You do? How?”

“Jessie.” Mala fingers the hem of her nightie, pulling it down. “She came to the café the other day and said she overheard you speaking on the phone with someone at the grocery store. You were telling them about a woman you had feelings for.”

What the fuck? That Jessie would follow me around the grocery store and listen to my private conversation is one thing, but for her to tell Mala? That crosses every line.

My mind whirls with questions. Did she hear everything? How much did she tell Mala?

I eye Mala and her reaction to knowing what I was supposed to tell her myself. “So, uh, what . . .” I clear my throat. “What did you think–”

Mala’s arms come around my neck, pulling me to her, and I breathe in a sigh of relief. My nose lands inside her freshly washed hair as I grip her hips. God, I just want to raise this little nightie and find out what it would feel like to bury myself inside her.

“I’m so happy for you, Dean. I’m glad you found someone who could make you happy.” She pulls back, her arms still loose on me, but her smile doesn’t reach her eyes. “Have you told her yet?”

Wait. What?

My brain struggles to catch up with her words, and another wave of relief hits me when I realize she doesn’t know. Jessie must not have caught the name during her eavesdropping. Come to think of it, I don’t think I even mentioned Mala’s name once while I was speaking to Grams. But I didn’t have to because her name was already implied.

I suppose this means I can go back to my plan of telling her myself.

“Not yet. It’s . . . it’s why I’m here,” I reply cautiously.

Mala nods before grasping me by the hand and pulling me toward the living room. “Let’s sit down and you can tell me all about her. I actually have some news of my own, too.”

She turns on a lamp on the side table, illuminating a pile of empty boxes against the walls of the hallway to her room. There is an additional set of boxes in the corner of her living room.

I chuckle. “You planning to start a moving company, sprinkles? What’s with all the boxes?”

Mala perches next to me on the couch with her knees folded under her. There’s a stiffness to her that she tries to hide with a wobbly, forced smile.

Why does it feel like my gut is trying to clue me in on something?

She still hasn’t let go of my hand, and while I’m always looking for ways to keep her close, the prickly sensation at the back of my neck makes me feel like I should disconnect our hands and walk right out the door this second.

A faint ringing starts in my ears, and I’m worried I know what she’s going to say before she even starts.

“I was actually going to tell you tomorrow.” Her smile wobbles again before her eyes fill, and it’s everything I can do to not stop her from finishing whatever she’s about to say. “Remember that company I told you about a few years ago? The one out of LA that I applied to several times and wanted to work for after I graduated?”

I nod. It’s the only movement I can make without triggering the roll of my stomach so that I’m stumbling over to her bathroom.

She blinks, pulling another smile in place. It doesn’t look nearly as ecstatic as she would like me to believe. “The head of their pet treats department came into the café the other day. He, um . . .” She swallows and my gaze moves from her face to her neck to the top of her burn scar and back again. “He offered me a position to lead their dog treats operations and . . . and I accepted it. I’m moving next week.”

I stare at her as her words finally make it to my ears.

I accepted it . . ..

I’m moving next week.

I accepted it . . ..

Her fingers tighten around mine, but they might as well have tightened around my heart.

“Dean,” she whispers, and I meet her watery gaze. She pulls the corner of her lip into her mouth, but I don’t miss the shake of her chin. “Did you . . . did you hear what I said?”

I blink, realizing I’ve been quiet this whole time. Perhaps the buzzing inside my head had me believing I’d spoken. “That’s great.” I rise to my feet, letting her hands drop on her lap. I suddenly want to be anywhere but here. I plaster on the same fake smile she did as I muster up the courage to congratulate her. “That’s great, Mala! It’s a huge opportunity for you. Something you’ve always wanted.”

Ever since we met, she spoke about the prospect of working for Doggone. It was her dream back in the day. But I guess I never asked if it was something she still wanted to do. I guess I assumed she was content with what she already had.

I guess I assumed she was content with her life here . . . with me.

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