Page 51 of Chasing Smoke

As siblings, we’re all close, but growing up, Elliott and I shared a room and were closest in age, so we were tight. Sutton and Hollis have their own bond. Sometimes I wonder if it’s because neither of them have any memories of our mother, unlike Elliott and me.

They pull away from each other, then she’s headed to the table.

I get up and hug her. “What are you doing here?”

She looks me over when she pulls away. “Can I ever feel the love. It’s a wonder I don’t come home more often.” She waves when the old guys start to push their chairs back. “Don’t get up, everybody.”

Sutton walks around the table to give a side-hug to everyone but Fowler and our uncle. With Uncle Roy, she gives him a quick kiss on the top of his head that he leans into a bit, but he doesn’t take his eyes off the cards. Then with Fowler, she just says hey and gives him the once-over as though she’s making note of what may have changed since the last time she was home.

“I have to pee.” She disappears down the hallway, then we hear the bathroom door close.

Hollis grabs her a beer and sits back down. He gives me a look, then we both turn to look at our uncle. He looks up from his cards at the two of us but doesn’t say anything. We’re all thinking the same thing. Why is she home? Sutton doesn’t just drop in for a visit. In the last five years, she’s never come home on a whim.

We hear the bathroom door open, and all our eyes snap back down to our cards, lest Sutton come in and think we were talking about her and rip us apart.

She looks around the table. “Where’s Elliott?” She takes the beer from Hollis, immediately bringing it to her lips.

“At home with Emelia and Baylor. Some of Emelia’s family is visiting.” I set down my cards.

“Shit. There goes my idea of staying in the bunkie.” She crosses her arms and looks at our uncle with an arched eyebrow.

“You can use your old room,” Roy says.

“Is my old room intact, or did you turn it into a shrine for all the band T-shirts?”

“It’s still your room,” Roy says, nodding.

“How long are you staying?” Jimmy asks.

“Not sure yet.” She smiles, and it’s the smile I know well from my sister. The one that doesn’t invite you to ask any more questions. “Nice welcome home. Trying to get rid of me already?”

“’Course not,” Roy says. “All of you have a room here when you need it. You know that.”

We’re all thrilled to have her home, but we can’t show it. That’s how it is with Sutton. And maybe I wouldn’t care and I’d tell her how happy I am to have her home if I didn’t think she’s here because something’s going on with her. And not something good.

“All right, I just drove in from Nashville, so I’m going to have a shower. If any of you interrupt me, I’ll bite you.” She laughs, takes a swig of her beer, and leaves the room.

“Want me to carry your suitcase up for you?” Hollis asks.

Sutton glances over her shoulder with a cutting look. Far be it from Hollis to offer to help with anything. She leaves the room, and we can hear her dragging her suitcase up the stairs, one thud at a time.

Uncle Roy inhales a deep breath. He’ll always offer us a place, but I think he’s enjoyed his alone time after raising four kids that aren’t his.

The three of us Mercers share another look, then we get back to poker, just the way my sister would want it.

TWENTY-FOUR

Ansel

Sutton only joined us for a few minutes after she was out of the shower, saying she was tired from a day of traveling and needed to sleep. I’m sure that was true on some level, but I also question whether it was an avoidance tactic.

Guess we’ll see in the coming days how open she is about why she’s really home.

I did all right tonight, but Hollis won the most rounds. He did that thing he always does, making it seem as if he’s not really paying that much attention when in reality, he’s quietly cataloging everyone’s moods and movements.

He drops Fowler and me off at our place just off Main Street, and we call out a thank you to him as we head up the driveway. Fowler is to the door first, so he punches in the code to the lock and swings the front door open.

I’ve debated talking to him about this thing with Collins that may or may not ever turn into an actual thing. Part of me wants to keep it to myself until I know for certain this thing has legs. That would certainly be the easier thing to do, but I feel like I need to talk to someone, and he’s my best friend. The only best friend I have left. Of everyone, he’s the person I’m most concerned may have a problem with the idea of something going on between Collins and me.