Page 88 of Smoke Signals

I put in for the transfer first. Belvidere took me and I said yes before I got to the parking lot. Smaller house, smaller calls, the only downfall is I'll go in near the bottom again, lose my seniority, lose my company, probably lose the ladder for a while.

Rhys asked if I was sure. I told him I've spent ten years chasing the big ones and I'd rather spend the next ten getting home.

The key’s in my pocket while I stand in his apartment and watch Alaska play school with her stuffed fox inside the living room. Hartley laughs at something she does, and the sound hits me square in the chest.

I want that sound in my house.

Every day.

Not just the nights I stay over or the weekends.

Every day.

“You two want to go for a drive?”

Hartley leans back against the couch cushion and crosses his arms.

“A drive where?”

“Somewhere I want to show you.”

His eyes narrow slightly. “That sounds like a trap.”

“Come on.” I smile. “Trust me.”

Alaska claps like this is the best idea anyone has suggested all day. Hartley sighs like he’s lost this argument already.

“Fine.”

Ten minutes later Alaska climbs into the back seat with fox already tucked under one arm.

Hartley settles into the passenger seat but doesn’t put his seatbelt on right away.

“You’re up to something,” he says.

“I’m not up to anything.”

“That’s the least convincing statement you’ve ever said.”

I smile and pull away from the curb. Someone honks two cars back because patience doesn’t exist in Chicago. Alaska hums quietly in the back seat while she presses her face against the window to watch everything pass.

Hartley rests his elbow against the door and turns his head toward me.

“Where are we going?”

“You’ll see.”

He narrows his eyes slightly, but doesn’t push. That alone tells me he trusts me more than he wants to admit.

Traffic thins once we leave the city and the buildings start to fall away behind us. The highway stretches out in long gray lines and the sky opens wider above the road.

My grip tightens slightly on the steering wheel. This is the part where I could still turn around.

Hartley notices the change in scenery before long. His head turns slowly as neighborhoods shift from tight city blocks to quiet streets with trees and front yards big enough for kids to run through.

“Are we going to visit your parents again?” he asks quietly.

“Kinda.”