Page 62 of When the Smoke Clears

“I remember meeting a sexy firefighter when I was younger.”

Jamie’s smile falters, and I’m reminded that she’s Will’s friend more than mine.

“Can I put this into perspective?” I ask.

“What’s that?”

“Will and I. I was one month from turning eighteen when we met my second year of medical school. I never lied about my age, but no, I didn’t tell him I was seventeen. And I don’t know what he’s told you, but it wasn’t a single night of intoxication and lust. It was more. There was an emotional connection before we had sex. I got food poisoning the night of the rehearsal dinner, and he took me home, stopping by the store on the way to get every remedy imaginable.” I grin, and so does Jamie.

“Will made it his personal mission to have me ready to walk down the aisle on time without Victoria, the bride, knowing how close I’d come to leaving her short one bridesmaid. He could have walked away. I begged him to. He witnessed me at my worst before he knew if I was good at sex. Really, before either of us knew.” I chuckle.

“It wasn’t”—I shake my head—“nothing. It wasn’t everything either, at least not to him. But it was something.” I inhale a deep breath and slide my fingers under my legs, feeling vulnerable and desperate for someone to see it from my point of view. “I fell first. I fell hard. And when Will found out about my age, he ran too fast for me to catch him. So then I did what any young woman in my shoes would have done.”

“What’s that?”

“I obsessed over him for more than a decade.”

Jamie laughs.

With a shy grin, I rest my crossed arms on the edge of the table, waiting for her to look at me again. “When you came to Missoula and worked for me, I knew you wanted to make friends and just fit in.”

She nods once.

“That’s all I’ve wanted my whole life.”

“Then, as your friend, I have to give you some good advice.” She glances at her phone before sliding it into her tote. “Let Will go. No more obsessing. He’ll crush you because he’s still a boy who can’t understand the fragility of a young woman’s heart falling in love for the first time.”

I don’t react. She doesn’t know I kissed that boy earlier today, and my heart can’t let him go.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Will

It’s a midlife crisis.

That’s the best explanation for why I kissed Everleigh. I’m forty, single, and dealing with my father’s declining health. My job is stressful. I tweaked my back a few days ago.

There are so many reasons for my unusual behavior.

But scared? No. That’s absurd. What could I possibly be scared of?

“What did the poor mailbox do?” Everleigh asks, stepping out of her Subaru a little before eight at night.

I slide the head of the hammer into my jeans’ back pocket. “A snowplow clipped it last winter, and I’m tired of looking at the dent in the side. And the door doesn’t close properly.”

She lifts her brown leather tote onto her shoulder and cocks her head, inspecting the mailbox. “So you thought a second dent would solve the problem?”

I frown. “I had to hammer out that side so the door would close.”

She reaches for the door and gives it a hard tug before it opens. “Stiff.”

“It’s fine.” I head toward the garage. “Where have you been?” I cringe the second the words leave my mouth. It’s none of my business. More than that, I don’t care.

Keep telling yourself that, buddy.

“I had dinner with a friend.”

“You have a friend?” I grin with my back to her while I return the hammer to its hook above my tool bench.