Page 74 of The Heart of Smoke


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I’m dying to talk to him. If I can get a read on him, it’ll do wonders for my racing mind. I want to know if he’s happy about what we did. If he’s not…I may as well just quit and run away.

Once decent, I hurry downstairs. I see Violet peeking out the window by the front door. When she hears the stairs creak, she whips around and stares at me with a guilty expression.

Not disappointed like one would be if she found another man’s clothes scattered about…

What does Violet have to be guilty of?

“Morning, er, afternoon,” I say, wincing at my error. “I’m a sleepyhead today.”

She forces a smile. I don’t like that. Not one bit. It puts me on edge.

“It happens, honey. Why don’t you come into the kitchen so I can fix you something to eat?”

I hear raised voices outside and pause, craning my neck to listen. It sounds like Jude. He’s pissed, too. When I start for the front door, Violet shakes her head.

“Please, sweetie, don’t go out there. Let Jude take care of it.”

Take care of what?

A chill slides through my veins, turning them straight to ice.

Her behavior, Jude outside, the yelling, him needing to take care of something—it’s all adding up to something dreadful. I just know it.

Ignoring her plea, I march straight out the front door. The first thing I see is the bright red blob in the yard. Not just any blob. My car.

As soon as it registers that my car has been vandalized, I completely freeze as suffocating fear cloys the air around me. My lungs seize and I absently claw at my sweater as though it’ll help me breathe. I’m rooted to the front porch, unable to move or speak or scream.

It’s Sean.

Sean was here.

This is what he does.

A wave of nausea passes over me. I swallow the acidy bile trying to come up my throat. This can’t be happening. It can’t!

I was safe here.

I made sure of it.

How did he find me?

A cat or wounded animal makes a pained, horrible sound. It takes only a second to realize the sound is coming from me.

I’m the broken one.

I’m the one collapsing under the weight of terror.

Muffled voices are directed at me, but I can’t pick out who they belong to. My eyes are locked on the red blob of my car. It looks like blood.

I gag but thankfully don’t puke my guts out.

A white mask comes into view and strong hands grip my shoulders. I blink away the scarring image of my car and fixate on the blue eyes peering through the eyeholes at me. Jude’s concern flickers in his eyes as they dart all over me as if to assess where I’m hurting.

It’s inside.

It’s always deep, deep inside my heart and my head when Sean’s not around.

And then it hurts everywhere when he is.

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