Page 33 of When the Smoke Clears

Gabe looks at me like I’ve grown a second head.

“Please.” My limbs tingle, half-numb, half-burning. I rock back and forth, wanting to stop but unable to. “Promise me.”

His lips settle into a hard line. “Let’s go.”

It turns out Gabe shares a small one-bedroom apartment with a pet ferret and a bachelor’s eye for décor. The space is small but tidy—everything seems to have its place, which tracks with the military thing—but it definitely screams for a woman’s touch.

“Wow. I’m in Gabe Mercer’s bed,” I joke weakly as I slide beneath the soft blankets of his king-sized bed. The sheets smell of detergent and cedar. “If these walls could talk…”

“These walls and I have an understanding,” he chuckles from his spot near the doorway. “I’ll be right on the other side of the door, on the couch. You understand?”

“I do.”

“We can assume if someone is following you, they know you’re here,” he continues. “I’m going to hang onto your phone tonight. You get some sleep, and we’ll figure out a plan in the morning.”

“You’re a good guy, Gabe,” I murmur as my eyelids grow heavy and the day’s tension finally starts to unfurl. “How are you still single?”

“Not all of us can have an epic love story.” His voice is a gentle whisper as he clicks the door shut.

My love story never had a chance to be epic. I press my eyes closed, trying to shut out the noise long enough to breathe.

I wake after a fitful sleep to sunlight spilling through the bedroom window. The building backs up to a dried-out ravine and a hill choked with trees.

I sit up and watch a family of three deer—two adults and a fawn—pick their way through the underbrush before disappearing with a few graceful jumps.

Pulling my sweatshirt over my head, I head straight for the bathroom. I freshen up, brush my teeth, and work a brush through the tangled waves of my hair before joining Gabe at the kitchen counter.

“Good morning,” he says. “How’d you sleep?”

“Good. I’m sorry you had to take the couch.”

He pours me a steaming cup of coffee and slides it toward me. “I’ve slept in much worse places.”

He sets a tiny pitcher of creamer in front of me and returns to his spot in front of his computer, eyes raking over whatever’s on the screen.

“Did I get any more threatening texts?” I ask.

“Not unless you count someone named Erin, who threatened to kick your ass if you don’t check in with her this morning.” He chuckles.

I lean against the counter, letting the warmth of the cup seep into my hands. “What am I supposed to do now?”

“I think I should take you over to meet the lawyer,” he says. “I’ll sort out your tire situation while you’re with him.”

“What about Luke?”

“I’ll tell Luke as much as he needs to know,” Gabe replies. “But you should know this puts me in an awkward spot with him.”

I nod, guilt pricking at my ribs.

“Isla,” he says softly, “I think you should reconsider telling him everything. He deserves to know what’s going on. You owe him that much.”

I chew on my bottom lip and nod again before heading into the bedroom to change.

The drive to Alan’s office takes less than ten minutes. The building is an old house turned into a professional space. The waiting room still has its bay windows, the kind that used to belong to cozy breakfast nooks and quiet weekend mornings.

Inside, Alan is on the phone. He gestures for me to sit, and I sink into one of the chairs. The thought that I’m here to settle my mother’s “estate” tugs at my heart, and tears sting again, but there’s nothing left to give. I think I might actually be dehydrated from how much I cried yesterday. My head throbs, ignoring the acetaminophen I washed down with my coffee.

“Isla,” Alan says warmly as he ends the call. “It’s so nice to meet you in person. Please, come in.”