Page 100 of When the Smoke Clears

One side of her mouth lifts.

“But I also wasn’t kidding about the claws. So no more mouse bullshit.”

She grins. “You got it.”

“See ya, Ginger.” I turn to go with a flicked wave.

Just as I reach the door, she speaks. “You really kill Colt?”

I turn to take in her face. We’ve caught the attention of the few members scattered at the nearest table, one of which is McCoy, who was at the bar before. My eyes catch on his. They don’t hold the same question as most of the others. Because he knows my truth, and I know his, too. That tiny thing reflected in his eyes.

I nod and turn back to her. “Yeah. I did. He came for me, and it was me or him.”

She nods with a contemplative face. “Glad you made it.”

My lungs cease and my head bobs slightly in thanks. I wave and slip out the door.

Chapter 36

Sutton

I’mnotsurewhatto expect when we arrive at Maci’s apartment. She hasn’t been messy to live with, but maybe she’s still getting comfortable. Her aesthetic could also be completely opposite to mine. Modern, sleek. Then again, I’ve witnessed her love for woodwork and the way she’s designed her rustic backdrops.

It’s in a typical cream building with dark faux shutters and about twenty buildings stacked on top of each other, situated on a major intersection in Austin. The noise alone is enough to drive someone insane.

She directs me to a building near the front and seems excited that “her” spot is open, but seems to forget that my truck is wider than her Jeep, so I’m more thankful that the second spot is also open. She claims there isn’t much for furniture, but just in case, I spin the truck around and back in.

She lets us in, and I take in the space. I’ve seen her photos on occasion, when she’s editing, but the prints she has on the living room wall are far beyond what I expected. They aren’t her family, which is kind of ironic, and they aren’t even the same family across the set. Yet, somehow the grouping is cohesive. It’s like experiencing the moment with them, while also feeling like they’re in their own world.

When Sammi and I were younger, Mama used to make us sit for family photos. Mostly studio ones that came out cheesy and awkward. They hung in the hallway to her and Dad’s room. These are nothing like that. They’re in living rooms, bedrooms, and green spaces. The people are moving and laughing, interacting in fun and natural ways. A couple have a backdrop, and even though I know she enjoys planning and making them, the ones without are my favorite.

I have a new appreciation for her work and the way she sees things.

“You gonna stand there all day, or you gonna come in?” Maci stands in the middle of the living room with a hand on her hip.

I rub my lips together, suppressing a smirk. “Lead the way, Firecracker.”

She gives me an incredibly brief tour of the tiny space. Nothing stands out besides her hung photos. All of the furniture is basic, well-loved, traditional craftsmanship.

“It’s cute,” I tell her in reference to the apartment, as she scoops some decorations off a side table. “But I don’t know how you stand all the noise.”

She grins widely. “I’m used to it. Well…Iwasused to it. Now, it feels a little oppressive.” Her brows scrunch as if she’s remembered something.

“What?”

“I was just thinking how I used to find small-town life oppressive.” Her eyes slide over me. “Maybe it’s not so bad.”

Surprisingly, there’s more photography equipment in her closet. Unsurprisingly, she loads that first. Otherwise, it takes us little time to pack up a few boxes of things she wants to keep, as well as the few items left in her closet and bathroom.

The whole scenario has me itching to get our house built like never before. It’s like until I had someone to share it with, it didn’t matter. Now, I want Maci and I to be comfortable and settled. I want us to start building our new normal, our own little habits and traditions.

“So you just want to get rid of all of this furniture?” There’s nothing especially wrong with the pieces, even if they are mismatched.

She shrugs. “I don’t have any sentimental reason to hold onto them, and it’s not like there’s anywhere to put them at Nana’s. Or at your house.”

“Well, we will have more than a bedroom and office to fill in a few months.”

She studies me plainly. “I don’t think they fit.”

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