Page 89 of Chasing Smoke

“You want something to drink, Collins?” Ramsey asks. “Pop, water, we even have some wine this elderly lady dropped off after we got her cat out of a tree. We can’t drink it, so it’s just sitting there behind Gonzalez’s stupid protein shakes.”

“I heard that,” Gonzalez says without looking up from setting the table.

“I meant for you to,” Ramsey says.

Collins laughs—a real one, not the pretend polite ones she was doing for so long after Caleb’s death. “No wine for me, I’m driving. Water is fine.”

“Water for the widow, coming right up.” Ramsey stills, eyes going wide. “Shit, Collins, I’m sorry, I⁠—”

“It’s fine, Ramsey.”

He shakes his head. “That was terrible, I’m sorry. I’m gonna go stand in the truck bay.”

Collins gives him a warm smile. “Just bring me my water, Ramsey.”

He does as she says.

Collins is still smiling, and she catches my eye from across the room for half a second. I have to look away because if I look any longer, everyone in this room will know how I feel about her.

Russo brings over one of the casserole dishes and sets it on a folded towel on the table. “All right, everyone, come sit.”

Collins is across from me, Fleming to her left, Ramsey to her right. Gonzalez sits to my left and Russo on my right. Everyone else takes seats farther down the table.

“To Caleb,” Russo says, lifting his drink.

“To Caleb,” we all echo.

Collins’s voice is even, and I don’t see the flinch of pain on her face I used to whenever Caleb’s name was mentioned.

We all pass our plates down, and Russo serves big spoonfuls.

“How’s the practice?” Gonzalez asks Collins, digging in.

“Busy—which is good.” She blows on the steaming food on her dish, then lifts a forkful to her lips. Her eyes close, and she nods like yes, I can see why this was Caleb’s favorite.

Russo points his fork at her and winks.

“So, how’s it going with Ansel’s back?” Ramsey asks, mouth half full. “You getting him fixed up, or is he a lost cause?”

I still for half a second.

Ramsey saw me coming out of the building when he drove by one day and asked about it, so I had to give him the same story I gave Collins about why I was there, but I never mentioned seeing him to Collins.

“He’s a project,” Collins says, not missing a beat.

“He’s always been a project,” Fleming says.

“Hey,” I say.

“He’s not wrong, Mercer.” Gonzalez laughs.

“I’m right here.”

“We know, you always make your presence known,” Russo says with a smirk.

Collins is trying not to laugh. I can see it in her eyes and the twitch of her mouth. She takes a drink of water to cover it and meets my gaze.

Fleming’s eyes flick from me to her and back again.