Page 38 of Chasing Smoke

I couldn’t save Caleb. If I’d listened to myself, Caleb would still be alive and happily married, and I wouldn’t have fucking kissed his wife.

I’m the guy who fails the people I care about, just like my father. I failed Caleb in life, and now I’m failing him in death with my emerging feelings for his widow. I’ll fail Collins eventually too. I probably already have failed by kissing her when all I’m supposed to be doing is helping her move on with her life.

“Food’s ready,” Russo calls, and everyone descends on the kitchen like a pack of wolves.

After I’m done eating, I pull out my phone. Anything to keep myself distracted until we start our daily chores.

Checking my email, my thumb is still on an email from Portland Fire and Rescue. I’m nervous to click it open, unsure whether I want it to be good or bad news.

I press on the email and see that they’re reaching out to schedule an interview.

Maybe this is a sign that my idea of moving up the ranks in Portland is a good one. Get far away from here and Collins, because nothing good will come of me staying here now.

I type a response, letting them know the days I’m available for an interview, and click off my screen before shoving my phone back in my pocket.

There. Maybe if I’m away from the people I care about, I won’t hurt them.

EIGHTEEN

Collins

It’s been a few days since I kissed Ansel in his truck.

I’ve thought about that kiss many times over. To my shame, not always with regret. Because if I’m honest with myself, a part of me enjoyed the kiss.

I knew my attraction to Ansel was forming, even if he is the worst person in the world for me to be attracted to. And beyond that, it felt too nice being desired by a man again.

I haven’t thought of sex since Caleb passed, but somehow, spending time with Ansel has brought my libido back to life. Which is wholly inconvenient.

Neither of us has reached out to the other. It seems we’ve both retreated into our corners, but the time will eventually come when we have to talk about what happened. And why. And what our plans are.

That’s the scary part. The why.

Sure, I could pretend it was a momentary lapse of judgment and chalk it up to two people who share the same grief mixing up their emotions and making a mistake. But that would be a lie. At least on my part.

And the next time I was with Ansel, those feelings would still be lingering, hanging over our heads like a dense fog.

I’m not sure what to do.

I haven’t even told Nina what happened. I don’t know why. I was going to, but I couldn’t get the words past my lips. Maybe for the same reason I haven’t told her about the hotel invoice I found. Because I’m embarrassed. How would I not have seen the signs if Caleb were cheating?

Pushing the thoughts from my head, I park my SUV and slip on my winter hat. I ordered takeout from the Pines to pick up on my way home. I’m not in the mood to cook for myself tonight.

I tried for a little while, but not only is cooking for one depressing.

It’s still cold out, but there’s no wind tonight, so the temperature feels more bearable. I’m almost to the front of the pub when the door opens and Ansel steps out. We both come to a stop, our upper bodies bending back slightly. Our eyes lock for a beat, and both of us open our mouths.

I guess this is happening now. Awesome. And right where all the Echo Lake residents hibernate during the winter.

“Hey,” I say.

He clears his throat and steps forward. “How are you?”

“Good.” I nod as if that can convince us both. “Good. You?”

Ansel shoves his hands into the pockets of his coat. “Fine.”

We’re quiet for another beat, then we both begin talking at once.