Page 12 of Dandelions and Smoke

I watch her with wonder as her face tilts up toward the sky, raindrops falling on her skin, making it glisten in the light. With her eyes closed, she smiles, arms outstretched, as she welcomes the hammering of water against her skin, soaking it up like the very essence of it is what gives her life. Lightning cracks across the sky, and she opens her eyes to take it in, finally noticing I’ve followed her out here.

“What are you doing?” she laughs. “You’re going to get all wet.”

Again, I laugh. Her concern is for me, but she doesn’t seem to have any for herself. Rain has already soaked through my shirt and pants. My turnout coat has saved her from the worst of it, but the denim of her jeans is darkening as the water soaks through them. She steps right into the puddles without hesitation, her Converse disappearing beneath the water, and I just stare.

Who does that?

Who walks through a downpour like it’s sunshine? Like the rain isn’t something to escape, but something to enjoy? I don’t know when it happens, but somewhere between the rain falling around her and the smile I’m not sure she realizes she’s wearing, I stop seeing the storm altogether and only see her.

In two strides, I reach her. Water drips from my hair as I look down at her, my heart pounding in my ears in rhythm with the rain.

“Tell me,” I beg, grabbing her face in my hands. “Tell me who you are. I need to know.”

“You already know,” she says, a shiver passing through her as she meets my gaze and presses her face into my hands before closing her eyes. “You already know me better than anyone else ever has.”

Her confession washes over me like the rain that pours down all around us. The sky lights up once more, and when she opens her eyes, I see everything she isn’t saying. She leans into me without hesitation, and I know she feels it too. There’s an undeniable connection here with no logical reason. My hand travels from her cheek, and my thumb wipes at a stray tear that rolls down it before it’s lost in the rain.

Never in my life have I felt like I know someone the way I do her right now. Like our souls can see each other even in the darkness of night. I want to be the one she allows to be there for her. I want to be the one who helps carry the weight when it all gets too heavy, but I can see it in her eyes. There’s hesitation, fear, and an apology she hasn’t even spoken yet, all right there staring back at me. Something is holding her back, and I’m already damned, but if we don’t say it out loud, if she can’t spin the lie that will push me away before we even have a chance, then maybe there’s still hope.

Hope that whatever this is can still be real when the sun rises in the morning.

In one motion, I bend down and lift her into my arms. Her breath catches in surprise, and her wide gaze ping-pongs between mine. With a soft exhale, she wraps her arms around me. Her small hands press against my shoulders, pulling me into her like she’s trying to anchor herself in this moment. Her closeness magnifies every sensation, igniting my body with a fire that heats me from the inside out. Her fingers dig in like she’s checking to make sure I’m real, and before either of us can question what comes next, I capture her soft lips in mine.

Without hesitation, her lips move, and together we find a rhythm. I kiss her with a passion that I’ve long forgotten existed, and pour all I have into this moment, not knowing if tonight will be our first and last. She meets me with a frenzy, her tongue gliding over my lips before pressing into my mouth and dancing with my own. The taste of her finds its way into every corner of my mind, burrowing its way in and making a home.

As she pulls away, my mouth chases hers, refusing to part for even a breath of air. Her hands leave an invisible trail as they glide over my back, and her moan unravels me. Soon I’m walking us into the Fire Station, up the stairs, and into my room. I know that she already has the power to wreck me, that come the morning, she may be gone like one of her dandelion seeds in the wind.

But I don’t care.

If all I have with her is tonight, then I’m not going to waste a single second of it. And who knows? Maybe, if I make a wish, this time it will come true.

THREE

RORY

Six Months Later- Present Day

I bounce around the Cozy Pines Cafe, stopping to clean table twelve. It’s late afternoon, my favorite time of the day. The sun shines through one of the stained-glass wind chimes that Ainsley, the manager, has hanging by the window. It cascades across the cafe, lighting everything in a kaleidoscope of colors. I started coming here on my second day in Turtle Bay, and once Ainsley realized I basically lived here, she figured it might be a good idea to offer me a job, which has been wonderful for my mental health and my wallet.

I love it here, and it’s not only because I’ve forced my love onto my co-workers, turning them into my best friends who, more often than not, have felt more like sisters these last few months, but because the place is super cute and cozy. It makes me smirk every time I think about it because the word cozy is literally in the name. Kudos to Callie and her family, who own it, for being so clever. It’s got that Adirondack charm, the kind I would imagine when someone says coffee shop in the mountains near a lake, with its mix of natural wood, soft lighting, and pine accents. Which reminds me, I need to pick up a light bulb from the hardware store and replace the one in my bathroom at home.

The colorful light bathes the front of the cafe’s long wooden tables, and the rest are lit by the tall windows, which are framed with hanging vines and bursts of sunflowers, mums, and bromeliads in mismatched pots. My chaotic mind both loves and hates that it doesn’t match, but it’s done in such a way that somehow it makes sense. This summer, almost as many flowers were hanging on the walls as there were in Ainsley’s hair, but now she’s adorned them with warm hues of oranges, yellows, and browns, making the cafe ready for the fall.

She takes pride in this place, and it shows. She’s been here the longest of the three of us, eight or so years, I believe. Tris started working here in January, and I know for a fact that it was not by choice. Her transition from a life of being rich and spoiled to working as a cafe barista has been far from what she had in mind for herself, but I think she’s finally coming to terms with it… at least on most days. Her always-broody firefighter captain boyfriend, Levi, and his adorable firehouse dog, Ellie, I’m sure, have been a big part of that road to acceptance.

“Baby steps,” she likes to tell me.

Where Ainsley is sunshine, Tris is more like the wind of a winter blast when you open a door, and it smacks you in the face, but they’ve both become my best friends. Thinking about it causes a bubble of laughter to escape me. Somehow, the three of us together work, so I don’t question it. Together, we’re the bitch, the brat, and the southern belle. Six months ago, I didn’t have a home, much less a job, but now? I’ve got both those things and more.

“It’s really sweet what you’re doin’ for your brother,” Ainsley says after shooting me a curious look for my random burst of laughter.

She’s used to me being in my own head, so not at all surprised.

“If anyone deserves to be happy, it’s Blake and Emma. I just hope this plan works out.”

She smiles. “Suga’, you’ve been obsessin’ over this plan for weeks now, ain’t nothin’ gonna stop it from goin’ perfect,” she reassures me with her southern twang that I’ve grown to love, though sometimes Tris and I have to deconstruct her phrases until we figure out what the heck she’s talking about.

“I mean, Emma could tell my idiot brother no,” I point out. “That would definitely ruin it a bit.”