Love in Smoke

by Holly Hall

  I search the man in front of me—tensed, solid muscles, jaw flexing, the tender skin thrumming just over the artery in his neck—and try to muster up any feelings of fear or caution, but I can’t. If sticking up for his mom is the worst he’s done, I can’t fault him for that. I can tell by the shake in his voice how much she meant to him, and that dredging up his past to be honest with me is difficult.

  I want to reach out to him—my hand twitches on the towel—but I can’t. It seems too intimate. “Tell me about your mother.” Before my eyes, his tight expression smooths into one of forlorn nostalgia.

  “She had her faults, just like anyone else. But she was the most understanding, kind-hearted person there ever was. She suffered from depression, so there were times when she was withdrawn and reclusive. We wouldn’t see her for days, sometimes up to a week. But when she was present, she was truly present.” His eyes shine with reverence. “She used every moment as a lesson, every opportunity to teach Trey and I about the world. When we walked around the yard, through the woods, we learned not only about animals but also the consequences of human nature. Deforestation and pollution. She loved nature and what it had to offer us. She taught us that every tree, every leaf, every grain of sand has a purpose.”

  I bite the inside of my cheek to distract from the roar of emotions inside of me. I didn’t know her, but I know that she’s dead, and that makes me unexpectedly and undeniably sad.

  “She had an early stroke. She survived, thankfully, but the prognosis was grim. She suffered from paralysis and sometimes had trouble speaking, but even with the difficulty of everyday tasks like walking and talking, it was her quality of life that my father was most concerned about. We couldn’t afford it, but he hired someone for at-home care. He needed to work almost constantly to fund her recovery, and we were just barely teenagers. It took a toll on all of us, but even at the most difficult of times, I still remembered the person she was: an avid explorer and lover of all things.” He pauses and clears his throat. His eyes are dry, but he blinks hard like he’s trying to fend off tears, and I find that my own are on the verge of spilling over. Despite my own family troubles, I can’t imagine going through something like that.

  “She ended up having another stroke a year later. That one was fatal. At a time when you would expect the town to rally in support, the majority of Heronwood was busy speculating about what caused it. Most blamed it on drug use, though I’d never known her to use anything but a little weed to wind down at night. I realize it’s illegal, but I don’t think something like that warrants the persecution she went through.”

  “I agree, and I’m sorry. About your mom and that nobody was there for you.” Even now, after experiencing the scorn of his community at a time when he needed them most, he’s more concerned about the disrespect shown to his mother. He chews his lip, but he doesn’t acknowledge my condolences.

  We sit in a silence only interrupted by the wind sighing through the trees as the weight of what he’s said settles around us. Unlike with me, his admission doesn’t seem to have unburdened him. That’s not something that leaves you. And although what he’s told me is monumental, the loss of his mother and his fight with Grant only occupy a small portion of a past I’m not privy to.

  “I don’t want you to feel sorry for me for that part, and I don’t want you involved in the other bullshit. That’s why I didn’t tell you sooner.”

  The other bullshit. I want to know what that encompasses, but I have a feeling he’s reminisced enough for one day. “If we keep seeing each other, I think I’m already a little involved.”

  His chin lifts. “You want to keep seeing me?”

  I suck my upper lip into my mouth, thumbing the hem of my shirt. “I don’t . . . that’s not what I meant. I didn’t really mean to start seeing anyone. I just—” Blowing out a breath, I drop my head back on my neck. “I don’t know what I want.”

  “I don’t think that’s true.”

  “Things are complicated, don’t you think?”

  He nods once. “Yes. But that doesn’t change what you want.”

  I swallow hard. God. Everything from his stubble to his honesty is beckoning me to him. “Doesn’t it? It affects things, whether we like it to or not, and there’s still more to the story, isn’t there?”

  Dane shifts, drawing his knees up and facing me. “Is it going to change your opinion of me?”

  “If it does, will that make it any less true?”

  He cocks his head. “Fair enough. Even though I hate to admit it, you were right to want to keep your distance from me. My family is involved in some stuff.” Angling his face toward the sky, he blows out a sigh, and I stiffen beside him. This is already sounding like a replication of what I heard from girls’ night. “It began when my mom was sick and my dad was bearing the brunt of her medical bills on his own. There wasn’t much he could do to make any extra money, he was already working sixteen-hour days as it was. We were facing foreclosure, and my father couldn’t stand the thought of not being able to provide a home for his family on top of everything else. So he started dealing. He turned a good profit, with little time involved, but there’s only so much you can accomplish in that position. He made the right connections, sided with the right people and proved his loyalty, and he eventually worked his way up. But it didn’t stop when my mother died. He’s focusing more on the shop now, but he’s too tangled up in everything else just to cut ties. I guess you could say he oversees operations.”

  Even prefaced by weeks of gossip, what he’s telling me is hard to absorb. “Is the shop legit?”

  He fiddles with a thumbnail, conflicted. “I don’t want to tell you too much.”

  “Because you’re afraid you can’t trust me?”

  “No. I probably trust you more than anyone in this town. But I don’t want you to know too much because I never wanted you involved in this in the first place. Anyone associated with me is associated with the shit my family’s wrapped up in.”

  “That’s not true, Dane.”

  “It is, and not only socially. After years of what my father has done, what Trey has done, they’ve collected a lot of adversaries who would love to see them fail. It’s natural to make enemies in that business. I don’t want anyone trying to use you, or thinking they can get information from you.”

  “You’re worried about my safety?” It all seems so farfetched, and the seriousness he’s trying to impart clashes with the serenity of our surroundings. It doesn’t feel like reality.

  His shrug is exaggerated, like he can hardly believe I would ask such a question. “Of course. As you should be.”

  “Okay, fine, we won’t go there. But you’ve already got me out here in the middle of the woods, all to yourself, so tell me anything that’s directly related to you. I think it’s the least I deserve after the guilt trip I experienced the other day.”

  Dane scratches his stubble, appearing reluctant. “All right. I’ve never dealt. I used for a short time when I was nineteen—wanted to escape the hell I was living in. It was short-lived. Haven’t touched it since. I don’t work with Trey or my dad, other than what hours I put in at the shop a couple days of week. I restore houses with my buddy Max for the most part. Over the past seven years or so, I’ve been putting as much distance between me and them as possible.”

  My brows knit together when that last part triggers something he said to me before. “Why haven’t you just left?”

  Something like pain flashes across his face for a millisecond, but it fades before I can be sure. “I wish I could. But I have to earn the right to do that.”

  “What the hell does that mean?”

  He shakes his head again, his eyes hard. Road block. “I don’t want to get into it.” I’m about to say something smart when he continues. “I never meant to end up in a place where I’d have to admit to any of this. I planned to fly solo until I got my life sorted out and planned my next moves. But you happened, and I’d be lying if I said you would be easy to walk away fro
m. I want to be honest with you—I am being honest with you—but I also want to see you again. And I haven’t felt that way in a long time.”

  I never thought I’d be faced with this—a man who has the capability to weaken my resolve while at the same time being involved in something I wouldn’t touch with a ten-foot pole. But the notes of defeat in his voice thread their way into my arguments and shatter them. He could be completely involved in the illicit activities of his family, and I’d have no way of knowing any better. The intimate tug on my heart tells me differently.

  Dane clears his throat, shaking me out of the throes of my internal conflict. “I dismissed it at first, thinking it was partly because I was lonely, but it’s much more than that. Maybe because you’re here when you could be anywhere else, and most times I’d rather be anywhere else. But that’s too simple of an explanation. I couldn’t fully describe how I felt about you if I tried.”

  With that, my resistance seems to seep out of me. I know how he feels, though I’m no closer to explaining it myself. Every part of me wants to give in, but experience blares a warning. Recklessness isn’t always safe, or foolproof. The past decade has taught me that. Then again, I’ve never been one to crave safety.

  I wanted to be wowed. I wanted to explore the possibilities of the woman I could be—and isn’t that why I came here in the first place? I never expected to find those things in a man, but the one beside me has spoken nothing but truth instead of talking me in circles, and it’s like a lungful of fresh air. How long have I needed that? Jenson painted a pretty picture, but Dane is the picture. He lives his truth in addition to speaking it. It sounds crazy, even to me, but I feel Dane’s very presence filling me up, his essence creating a soundtrack like a drumbeat; steady, powerful, impossible to ignore. Energy seems to course through my veins, electrifying my skin.

  I finally meet his eyes. They’re narrowed, seeking out my thoughts. Surrender seems to leave me with my words. “What do we do now?”

  His answer is definitive when he says, “I think you should kiss me.”

  TWELVE

  In all my days, I’ve never considered myself helpless. The one exception being the time I had to stay on the opposite side of the street as my house, my life, burned to the ground and I couldn’t do anything about it. I thought I’d never experience anything like that again, but here I am, sitting here waiting to be consumed as Dane leans over and slips one hand around the nape of my neck to draw me in. I lift my chin to meet him.

  Our lips move like they’re old friends who’ve known each other for years: predictably and steadily. Then Dane’s hands find my waist and he pulls me onto his lap. That’s when it changes. I’m in control, and I run my tongue between the seam of his lips to taste his. As if he approves, Dane runs one hand up into my hair, fastening my mouth firmly to his as our tongues roll together. The other finds its way to my hip, kneading in time with the movements of his mouth. I’m lost to him. Lost to the feeling that comes with a simple act that suddenly doesn’t seem so simple at all.

  When our hips begin to move together and our breathing labors, I falter. Have I just unknowingly said yes to whatever he’s proposing? So much is unspoken these days that I can’t be sure. Sensing my unease, Dane retreats just a few inches, a crease forming between his eyebrows. I place a hand on his shoulder to steady myself, anchor my thoughts.

  “I can’t promise you anything, Dane. I don’t know what you expect from me, and I’m not even sure what I have left to give right now.”

  He cups my face and uses his thumb to pry my lip from between my teeth. “I know you have doubts. But this, whatever we’re doing, it’s enough. Nothing about my situation is easy, and I don’t expect yours to be. I just want to get to know you. Slow, fast, whatever you want. If you’ll let me.”

  I go to chew my lip again when his thumb reappears, stopping me. I bite it on impulse, then kiss the pad of it before saying, “Okay.” I’m not sure what I feel. It’s a little like relief, fear, and burning desire all mixed together.

  “I have to warn you, it won’t be easy. Like I said, being affiliated with my family has its drawbacks. Normal dates, that sort of stuff, it wouldn’t be wise. We’d have to meet privately so as not to draw attention. Outside of town, places like this. We couldn’t tell anyone.”

  That kind of statement would raise a red flag in a normal relationship, but I know this isn’t one. Still, my curiosity is piqued. I shift off his lap, leaving my legs entwined with his. “Why all the precautions?”

  He directs his gaze to where he’s lacing his fingers through mine. “There are all sorts of people in my father’s line of work, and they don’t know how far removed I am from the business. Anyone close to my family can be used as a target. It’s better we don’t tell anyone, at least for now. Is that okay?” He’s firm in his reasoning, but I can see that he’s concerned.

  “Even your family?” I ask, remembering the way Dane avoided the main house during the party.

  “Especially my family. Trey doesn’t understand why I choose to live the way I do, busting my ass to make a few bucks, keeping to myself, and any change from the norm would attract his attention. I don’t want him to think he can somehow use you to manipulate me.”

  My head jerks back in response. “Trey? You think he would do that?”

  Dane nods coldly. “Yes.” He blinks, looks around, and dusts his hands off on his towel. “We should find our way out before it gets dark. Don’t want to be food for the critters.” He disentangles himself from me, stretches, then begins packing up the backpacks. It takes a moment to shake off the foreboding feeling his warnings have given me, but I stand up to help, rolling up the towels and stuffing them away.

  Once we’ve got everything packed, Dane helps me into my backpack once again, and we set off for the truck. The shadows are long when we make it to the trailhead, though the trek back seemed to take only a fraction of the time. We spent the walk in silence, aside from Dane’s commentary on this tree or that wildlife. It seems we’re leaving the park with more to think about than we arrived with.

  Just as we’re approaching the truck, Dane says, “I’m glad we did this. Now at least I can say I kicked your butt at hiking.”

  I chuckle. “You were starting to surprise me, but now I know you’re just a typical man.”

  “Well, a man I am.”

  “I hope it was worth it. Now that I’m less of a mystery, you might just lose interest and run off.” I hand off my backpack, and he stores it in the backseat before facing me and leaning his shoulder against the truck. It was a joke, but there’s a disbelieving smile on his lips.

  “Not even close. Call me crazy, but I think there’s a whole lot left in here that I’m dying to know.” He taps my temple, then grazes his finger over a cheekbone, along my jaw, watching my lips like he wants to eat them. My breathing becomes uneven, ragged. The air is thick, but not with humidity. It’s choked with him and what he makes me feel.

  I sigh with meaning so he can’t tell how unsteady he’s made me, then I say in a disappointed tone, “I promised I wouldn’t try to ‘find myself’ out in the woods.”

  Instead of a retort, he begins to laugh. One that originates from deep in his belly and makes you feel like even the trees can understand what it means. “You would say something like that after I just bared my heart to you,” he teases. Then he leans in close and kisses me on the corner of the mouth. It’s chaste in comparison to the one in the woods, but fingers of flame fan across my abdomen anyway. “Let’s get you home.”

  The drive is peaceful. Outside, dusk descends rapidly upon Tennessee, and rose-reds and burnt oranges smear across the sky. I feel languid in my seat, my muscles stretched and sated from all the walking we did today. I’m impressed with myself and a bit impressed with Dane, though I’m not going to admit that out loud. I confessed more than I expected, but an odd satisfaction has settled deep in my bones as a result. I guess there’s something to be said for getting things off your chest, though I di
dn’t know how much those secrets weighed until I set them free.

  Dane is drumming his thumbs on the steering wheel to the beat of the music, and when he thinks I’m not paying attention, he purses his lips and bobs his head. I want to laugh, but I know the moment will be broken if I do. So, I let him rock out on his own until the song is over, then I prop my chin on my hand atop the center console.

  “Were you enjoying that song?”

  He glances at me, ready to shrug it off, but when he sees my teasing grin, he does that lip-biting smile he does when he tries to suppress it and fails miserably. Somewhere along the way, despite keeping my distance, he’s become familiar to me. A distinguished face in a sea of strangers.

  “Don’t cut those judgmental eyes at me. Why don’t you pick something this time? Something that makes you want to dance.”

  I shake my head fiercely. “You don’t want to see me dance.”

  “Oh, but I do.”

  “Maybe if we’d finished the bottle of wine at the lookout . . .” I trail off purposely, letting him know there’s no chance of him seeing these dance moves without a little incentive.

  “It’s probably better we stay away from my place, but we could go to yours and open another?” His hand slides over to mine, giving it a squeeze.

  I resist a smile, but I know it’s showing in my eyes. Now that the tough conversations I imagined would end every possibility of us are out of the way, it would be so easy to give in. To share meals and bottles of wine. To pretend there aren’t things hovering over us that are out of our control. It’s basically unfair that he’s asking to come over when I’m in such a good mood and my head is clouded with endorphins.

  “Okay,” I say before my senses return. “But I am choosing the music.”

  I use the tuning dial to scan the stations, but most of them are spotted with static or playing country music from eons ago. Banjos are aplenty. Damn this place and their lack of decent music. I’ve about given up, ready to hand the DJ duties back over to Dane, but something catches my attention.