Page 88 of Chasing Smoke

Fowler’s gaze flicks back up to meet mine. “I don’t know. He never said those words to me, but…”

When the silence prolongs, I finish his sentence for him. “But he was happy about the baby.”

He cringes, squeezing his eyes shut. When he opens them again, all I see is pain and regret. “He was. I’m sorry.”

I nod. This isn’t new information to me. Sure, it’s still painful to hear, but I must have already dealt with the worst of it because I don’t cry. In fact, of the three of us, Fowler looks like the one closest to crying.

“After he died, I didn’t see the point in telling you any of this, Collins. You were already so traumatized by losing him. You were in so much pain… what was the benefit of telling you besides relieving my own conscience? I couldn’t do that to you. I thought I was protecting you. I decided that I’d rather live with knowing and have it eat me up inside rather than cause you any more pain. The idea of telling you everything seemed cruel when it wouldn’t change anything. Caleb was dead.”

I find myself pulling my hand away from Ansel and walking over to him. Fowler just stares at me until I pull at his hand to get him to stand. He does and wraps me in an embrace.

“I’m so sorry, Collins. Please forgive me. I thought I was doing right by you.” His head is tucked into my neck, and his tears wet my skin.

I consider what he must have been carrying around for the past two years. How he might have felt every time he saw me, whenever anyone mentioned Caleb. No part of me likes that he kept the information from me, but I can understand it. I can understand why. If roles were reversed, I might have done the same.

“I forgive you, Fowler.”

He sags a bit in my arms, then straightens out. “I’ve thought a lot about what I would’ve done if Caleb hadn’t died, and I swear to you both that I would have told you myself if he didn’t.”

I step back, nodding. “I believe you.”

Fowler looks at Ansel. “I can’t speak to why Caleb didn’t say anything to you, but I’m sorry I kept it from you. It was no different with you—I was trying to protect you and your memory of our best friend.”

Ansel is quiet for a moment before he nods. “I’ll get past it.” He glances at me. “I can understand keeping something to yourself that you think would be hurtful when it serves no purpose.”

I sigh. “There have been moments when I’ve wondered whether I’d be better off not knowing anything about Madelyn because really, what difference does it make? Caleb is dead. All me knowing has done is to cause me pain and leave me with a million questions I’ll never be able to answer.”

Both men look at me, seeming a little surprised.

I shrug. “It’s true. There’s nothing easy at all about this whole thing, but one thing I’m sure of is that I’m tired of being in this holding pattern in my life. I want to move forward. Caleb’s death, the reveal of his affair—it’s already stolen so much from me. I don’t want to let it take anything else from me.”

Ansel stands and looks at me with something like pride. Then he tugs me into him, kissing my temple, and says in a low voice, “I’m proud of you.”

“I’m proud of me too.”

When we pull away from each other, Fowler is looking at us strangely. “Sorry, it’s just kind of weird to see the two of you together like this.” Ansel opens his mouth to say something, but Fowler raises a hand. “I said weird, not bad. I’m happy you guys have found something in each other.”

I nod. “Thank you.”

Fowler looks at Ansel. “You forgive me, or should I start looking for a new place?”

Ansel rolls his eyes and pulls him in for a man hug. “We’re good. Sorry I flipped out.”

“You were right to.”

As I look at the two of them, a peaceful feeling settles over me. It finally feels like time to move on. Not because I’m running from the truth or my feelings, but because I’m just ready.

THIRTY-NINE

Ansel

The ceremony for Caleb is over.

Unlike last year’s anniversary when I was filled with grief and sadness, today I’m filled with a tossed salad of emotions. The grief is still there, but so is anger. At the choices he made. I’m hurt that he didn’t feel that he could confide in me. And I’m concerned about Collins and fucking hate the fact that I can’t pull her into my arms at the fire station and make sure she’s okay.

In honor of Caleb, Russo has made Caleb’s favorite meal from the firehouse—shepherd’s pie—and he invited Collins to join us.

Russo is at the oven, pulling out two large casserole dishes he always insists have to go under the broiler for exactly two minutes and forty-seven seconds.