Page 8 of Dandelions and Smoke

He pulls out my chair and waits until I’m seated before taking his, and we continue our conversation. Hours fly by, but neither of us seems to notice. Chief asks Remy to refill my seltzer when he notices it’s empty, and he switches to water.

I catch the small upward twitch of Remy’s lips and the way her amber eyes linger as she takes the two of us in, and wonder what she must see. I wonder if she can see what I feel and how it’s as if he and I are drunk on each other, intoxicated by the conversation and undeniable connection.

We gravitate toward one another like there’s an invisible rope pulling us together. Our bodies are turned, and our heads tilt closely together as we talk. He listens without ever making me feel like I’ve gotten carried away. He continues his questioning as if he’s determined to know everything about me, from my favorite color, green, to why I have such a fascination with movies.

“Movies are consistent.” I shrug, twirling my straw in my drink and sighing.

My smile falters as I go back and forth in my mind between whether I should explain myself further or not. Beside me, I can feel Chief’s eyes boring into the side of my face. I still don’t know his name, and he doesn’t know mine, yet I’ve never felt more seen. Like someone has uncovered the parts of myself I keep hidden, locked away for myself alone.

Yet instead of running for the hills and being scared off, he’s still sitting here, looking at me like I’m one of those eighth wonders of the world or something. Maybe that’s the reason I find myself wanting to share a truth that’s heavier than most of our topics tonight.

“Once you’ve seen a movie, you know what happens. There are no surprises. You know exactly what to expect. It’s reliable, and you can watch it over and over and enjoy it without worrying about what’s next. I guess it’s something that I sort of needed growing up,” I admit, looking up at him to watch his reaction closely because this matters.

Even if I wish it didn’t.

There’s no judgment in his eyes like I feared. Instead, he watches me like he’s measuring every word. Heat floods my face, and I reach for the hair tie around my wrist, fidgeting with it out of habit. Slowly, tension builds between his brows as he looks at me, and I furrow my own in question.

“Yes?” My voice comes out hesitant, and I internally cringe.

“Sorry, I’m just thinking,” he says, pinching the bridge of his nose as he shakes his head. “I’m glad you found that stability in movies, but I’m sorry you ever had to go searching for it,” he says with so much sincerity that I find myself still and speechless as my throat constricts.

Well damn.

“I get it,” he continues, letting the silence stretch as his shoulders tense up like they were earlier, as though he’s carrying something unseen.

Instead of filling the silence, I wait, going against every instinct I have that’s screaming to say something, to give him the room to go on.

“There isn’t a single day in the last four months that I haven’t woken up and wished I knew what was going to happen next.” He exhales slowly, eyes trained straight ahead like he’s looking at something that isn’t there, before looking back at me. His brow twitches. “You don’t look at all surprised by that.”

Now that he’s pointed that out, I probably do, I think to myself. My back straightens slightly, but his soft smile has me relaxing again.

“Five minutes until closing time, you two,” Remy says, walking by, drying the glass in her hand.

I look around to see that the place is nearly empty. The guys who Chief was here with are nowhere to be found, and other than us, there’s only one other small group cashing out at the bar. I pride myself on what I like to call my hypervigilant superpower, but talking to Chief all night, I never noticed.

His hand finds mine, fidgeting with my hair ties, and he stills it gently. Looking down, he draws circles on the back of my hand with his thumb a few times before shifting his gaze back to me. A shadow passes through his eyes, and he inhales slowly through his nose, holding it.

“Why’d you choose to spend your whole night with me?” he breathes out, his thumb still drawing circles.

Swallowing hard, my eyes bounce between his baby blues.

“Maybe I just really liked this seat. I was here first after all,” I say, trying to deflect with humor, but it lands a little too sharply, giving me away.

His head tilts, and he waits for me to tell him the truth.

“You really want to know?” I ask nervously.

After a perfect night, I’m afraid to ruin it with the truth, but his small nod and squeeze of my hand give me the courage.

“Because,” I pause, readying myself to brace for impact. “I know what it feels like to carry something heavy alone, and it looked like you deserved a night off.”

TWO

CHIEF

I’m no stranger to being called out. Hell, that’s how I ended up at The Boozy Bear tonight to begin with. I’m always doing my best to keep things at my firehouse as professional as possible. I’m the chief, and it’s my job to make sure my crews have a good leader, but these last few months have been rough, and unfortunately, that hasn’t been the easiest thing to do. Spending so much time together, we all eventually become more like a family than co-workers, so it’s nearly impossible to hide anything from each other. It doesn’t help that my engineer, Billy, seems to have been a hound dog in his past life and doesn’t miss a thing.

“Not a chance. We’re not letting you sulk up in your room tonight, Chief. Mark and I are heading to The Boozy Bear after our shift. We’ll pick you up at eight,” Billy says, leaning forward on the back of the chair that he’s spun to face me instead of sitting in it as any normal person would.