Page 75 of Smoke Signals

“I’ve been looking at houses.”

The words come out more casually than I expected.

I keep talking, taking a couple more steps before I realize his footsteps are gone. When I turn around, Hartley is standing still on the path, staring at me.

“Houses,” he repeats.

“Yeah.”

“For you?”

“Yeah.”

He starts walking again, but something in his posture changes. His shoulders pull in slightly, and his hands disappear deeper into his pockets.

“Closer to my parents,” I explain. “Maybe a yard.”

Hartley nods once.

“That makes sense.” His voice sounds careful now.

We keep walking. The path curves around the lake. Hartley kicks a small rock off the path.

“Rockford area would be cheaper,” he mumbles.

“Probably.”

He nods again, but his eyes stay on the ground.

He thinks I’m leaving.

“That would be a slower paced place to fight fires too,” he says quietly.

I glance at him.

His expression stays calm, but I can see the tension in his jaw.

People always leave and I get left behind.

The thought flashes across his face even if he never says it.

Hartley slows when we reach a small wooden bridge crossing the narrow part of the lake. He rests his arms on the railing and looks out across the water.

“You’d like having space,” he says after a minute. “Yard for grilling, a garage maybe.”

I lean beside him.

“Maybe.”

I can see the thoughts running through his head now. He’s trying to prepare himself for something that hasn’t happened yet.

“You already looking at any places?” he asks.

“Yeah,” I say.

His jaw tightens slightly.

“Find anything good?”