Page 7 of When the Smoke Clears

“Hi,” I croak.

“Hi, yourself.” He stands and kisses me on the forehead. “Thirsty?”

I nod.

The warmth of his hands disappears as he moves to a small rolling table, filling a Styrofoam cup. He presents it to me with a straw. “Sips.”

I roll my eyes. “When did you get a medical degree?”

“Real funny, Firecracker.” Even through his sarcasm, he smirks. I appreciate the moment of normalcy. He waits for me to sip a few times before setting the cup back on the table and sitting at my side again. “How do you feel?”

Like I was hit by a Mac truck.“I’m okay.”

Sutton’s eyes narrow. “You don’t have to—”

The room door swings open.

“Oh good, you’re awake.” A bright-eyed nurse smiles at me. “Are you thirsty?” She bustles around the bed.

“I’m fine, thanks.” Her chipper attitude isn’t as welcome as the calm nurse in the ER. My nerves are shot, an odd combination with how sluggish I feel.

“I’ll let the doctor know you’re up.” She stands, staring at me expectantly, across the bed from Sutton. I blink at her. At first, I think she’s waiting for a response, but it feels like she’s assessing us. Judging us. Judging me.

Her mouth pulls into a smile that doesn’t meet her eyes and she darts out of the room.

“This place is full of weird people,” I mutter as the door closes.

Sutton chuckles. His presence is soothing, and I let my eyes close.

It’s not the closed eyes of being at Nana’s, wondering how long it would be until someone found me bleeding out.

The relief at hearing Sutton’s voice almost instantly after the scuffle was unparalleled.

I’m not fully resting here, but having him near me is a reminder that I’m not the only one looking out for me. I don’t have to be at one hundred percent now.

The door flies open again. This time, the nurse is followed by a man in his forties. She’s still smiling widely, attempting cheerful, but it comes off more blinding.

“This is Detective Porter.” She scans my face and Sutton’s in turn.

“Hey there. I’m Detective Porter with the Bull Creek Police Department.” He’s dressed in khakis and a polo and carries a dark notebook in one hand.

The nurse eyes us once more before leaving.

Detective Porter walks further into the room as the door closes quietly. I’m not sure how such a large door can close without a sound. If only it opened the same way.

“I’d like to ask you a few questions about what happened tonight, if you feel up for it.”

It’s odd to think it’s still the same night. I’m not even sure what time it is.

“That’s fine. Whatever you need.” I knew this was bound to happen sooner or later. My upbringing is fueling my ability to be pleasant right now, when I really just want everyone to go away and for things to be quiet. Not that it matters if it’s quiet in here. Outside these walls, I can imagine all the whispered gossip going on.

Stupid small towns.

Now I remember just one of the many reasons I can’t stand their oppressive nature. The last few weeks getting to know Sutton and spending time with my family and friends lulled me into a false sense of enjoyment.

“So you understand, we will be conducting a full investigation. I’ve collected the clothing you both had on earlier.” Detective Porter doesn’t make eye contact as he opens his notebook. The flipping pages jar my sensitive nerves, akin to scraping a fork on a plate.

I refrain from commenting that I’ll never wear the sweater again anyway. “Fine by me.”

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