Page 70 of Ablaze

He pulls out of our embrace, his shiny eyes turning to Dean. “Check each alarm in this new place of hers. Might want to test some of the electrical while you’re at it.”

Dean nods right before he looks up at the sky. A flurry of new snowflakes make their way down, resting atop the melting slush.

It’s going to be snowing all through the weekend and into next week, so delaying the trip wasn’t an option. At this point, we’re just hoping to get on the road before the snow really starts to come down.

I press a kiss on both my brother’s and nephew’s faces before waving at them. “Tell Samantha she can call me about anything. I feel like I dumped a lot of information on her.”

Rohan nods. “Betty will be able to answer most of her questions, but I’ll tell her. Now get out of here before I change my mind and demand you stay.”

I smile through the almost-sob that tries to wiggle free, turning toward the door Dean has opened for me. He refused to let me drive, so as soon as I settle into the passenger seat, he shakes Rohan’s hand and comes around to the driver’s side.

Rohan wiggles Sage’s arm in an attempt to have him wave at me, and I wave back once more before Dean pulls my car out of the parking lot.

My heart feels heavy with both a sense of loss and an added anxiety–the nerves right before embarking on something brand-new on my own.

I lean my head back on the headrest and watch as my familiar neighborhood–though covered in snow–passes by slowly.

Along with the packing, it’s been a week of goodbyes. It was as if every customer I’ve ever had any sort of conversation with decided to come to the bakery to tell me how much they’d miss me. And even when I told them they were in good hands with Samantha and Betty, they insisted it wouldn’t be the same. It simultaneously broke and warmed my heart.

Malcolm came by after his shift almost every evening to hang out at the bakery. He said he was only there in case I had left-over pastries I was thinking about throwing out, but based on the way he hugged me each time when he came in and when he left, I know it wasn’t that.

“Your fingers are blue.”

Dean’s gruff bark has me bounding out of my thoughts. I follow his side-eye to my fingertips laying on my lap. I hadn’t felt them, obviously.

My lips twitch. “That preschool education did wonders for you, Fluffy. Now, let’s see if you know all your primary colors.” I lift my fingers to touch the ends of my hair. “What color is my hair?”

Dean rolls his eyes, grabbing my hand in his gargantuan one. “Fucking bane of my existence.”

I almost moan at the feeling of his fingers rubbing mine, warming them like marshmallows in a bonfire. I can’t deny the warmth in the center of my chest, either.

It’s been awkward between us ever since he left that night, and a part of me wants to demand he tell me why he signed up to take me–why he reminded me he’d do anything for me–only to show up at my door looking like I’d put a gun to his head to do it today.

But I don’t because I see the barely restrained pain and melancholy in his expression even though he’s tried hard to cover it with smiles that don’t quite reach his eyes. I see the worry for both of us. How will we survive without one another? What will happen to our friendship?

He’s dealing with the grief of what he thinks is losing me and the anger that I didn’t include him in my decision in his own way. He hasn’t said it, but I hear him regardless.

I quickly shift, giving him my other hand. “It’s as if you harness all the fires you fight inside you, like some sort of human volcano.”

His lips twitch, despite the annoyance he’s holding against me, and I’m hoping my dumb jokes will bring back the levity we’ve always had between us. “That’s not how volcanoes get created. They don’t fight fires to harness fire.”

I suck in my cheeks to hold in my grin. “Is that what you’re going to argue with me about? You’re going to give me a lesson in earth science because you’re too pissed off to voice the real reason you’re angry with me.”

I try to pull my hands from his grasp, but he holds on tighter. His shoulders slump but he keeps his eyes on the road. “I’m not angry with you, sprinkles. I’m . . . I’m . . .” He blows out a breath and I finish his thought for him.

“You’re hurt that I didn’t discuss it with you before I made my decision.”

His thumb rubs a circle on mine and a shudder runs up my arm, despite the fact that I’m now nice and warm all over.

Surprisingly, he shakes his head. “No, that’s not it, either. I’m happy you got the opportunity . . .” A muscle moves inside his jaw. “I’m just sad for me.”

* * *

Dean groans when we stop again for what feels like the hundredth time. It’s been like this for the past three hours we’ve been on the road, driving at a turtle’s pace behind a sea of cars. Any time we seem to make even the tiniest bit of progress, we’re quickly stalling again only a couple of miles later.

What was supposed to be an eight-hour drive is looking like it will turn into twelve or more.

I lean to my right to see if I can get a clearer picture of what’s happening ahead but between the lack of sunlight and the snow now dumping down on us like white confetti shot from a cannon, I can barely make out anything past the two rows of red brake lights from the cars ahead of us. “I think they blocked another lane.”

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