Page 61 of Secondhand Smoke

“Seriously, though.” She pulled the halves of her cardigan together against the sharp chill of the night, and hoped there was enough light coming through the back windows for him to see the gratitude in her expression. “Thank you so much for bringing her home. I don’t know…” She trailed off, because she didn’t know. Whether they could control Erin, whether the next time she disappeared would be the last, whether there was any way to convey her love and worry to her little sister.

“I never went through this, you know?” she said quietly. “I don’t know how to guide her through it.”

He nodded and dug a cigarette from his hoodie pocket. “You mind?”

“No. But aren’t you–”

As she asked the question, the headlights retreated down the driveway and the truck he’d arrived in backed out into the street.

“You’re missing your ride.”

“I told them to go on. My place isn’t far, I’ll walk.”

He’d told them to go on. Why? So he could stand out here and talk to her?

The stuttering of her heart spread, pulsed deep in her stomach, threatened to make her smile.

Aidan put his cigarette between his lips and lit it, took a long drag and let the smoke out through his nose. He dragged one of the sun-faded chairs away from the patio table and sat, pulling another up close beside him, intending she come sit close.

She couldn’t have refused if she’d wanted to.

When she was settled beside him, achingly aware of the few inches that separated them, breathing in the sharp tang of his smoke, he said, “Some people don’t want what’s best for them. You can pour your whole heart into making them see that you’re trying to help, but it doesn’t mean it’ll ever take.” He turned a serious look to her, eyes black in the moonlight. “It doesn’t mean it’s your fault.”

“Speaking from experience?”

“You know I am.”

“I wasn’t trying to insult you, Aidan,” she said, softly.

“I know, baby.”

Baby. That word had never made her blood sing the way it did now.

“I wish I could make her see that I’m trying to give her a future. That I’m protecting her.”

“She’ll see it. Eventually.”

“But what if it’s too late?” she asked.

He studied her, expression hard to read in the semi-dark. “Do you think that happens? That it gets too late for somebody?”

Oh, damn. He wasn’t talking about Erin anymore.

She thought carefully, dampened her lips. “I don’t think it’s ever too late to make the decision to change your life. But you might not be able to change it that much.”

“What if it’s already changing? When you didn’t ask it to?”

She’d never seen him cryptic; it was unsettling. “What’s going on with you lately?” When he started to shake his head, she said, “Aidan, please, you’re starting to worry me. What’s wrong?”

He made a face and took a drag on his smoke, staring out across the shadowed yard.

“Did you get detention again?” she prodded with a weak smile.

That earned her a wry grin. “Yeah. Told the teacher to suck my dick.”

They both chuckled, hollow, half-humored sounds.

He wasn’t going to tell her, she knew. Whatever troubled him was going to have to fester a little longer, until he was ready to let it burst forth.

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