Page 24 of Smoke and Fire
He nodded, as if to silently say,fair enough.
Words revolved around my head like whirling fire sirens.Priyanka. Book launch. PR. Readers. Must decide.I’d dug myself into a deeper and deeper hole. Before I left on the next assignment, I’d have to tell Pri that I couldn’t find help. Emails would build through the launch and readers might think I abandoned them. My next manuscript was underserved—I hadn’t even started because the words felt like glue on my fingers. I needed to get it rolling soon.
The obligations stacked higher and higher and higher.
“Hey, man.” Hernandez’s voice cut through the swirling cloud of anxiety. My head lifted to look at him. Concern filled both their expressions. Dagny had set down her fork and regarded me with eyes full of love and worry. Hernandez leaned forward, brow furrowed.
“You good?”
Too late, I realized my hands clutched the cloth napkin so tight that my knuckles were white. My throat felt thick, my head boozy.
No, I’m not okay. I can’t take the weight. I can’t take the pressure. It’s all going to fall down.
A moment before I could reply, a knock came on the screen door. Through it floated a lyrical voice that set a spasm of shock all the way through my body.
“Dagny, it’s Dahlia. Is Bastian here?”
7
DAHLIA
Aface full of wary uncertainty met me at the door.
Bastian peered through a lowered brow, as if he didn’t know what to make of my arrival. I didn’t either.
Behind Bastian, Dagny wore a perplexed expression. Out of sheer nerves, I’d refused her offer to join them at dinner and fidgeted with the edge of my shirt on the porch while Bastian walked to the door. A lovely, late-summer day unfurled at my back, interrupted only by the growing smudge of smoke out on the horizon.
“I’ll take this,” Bastian said to Dagny. “Thanks.”
Dagny filtered back into the house, unspoken questions in her eyes. Hernandez hung back, but gave me a head nod. I returned it with a smile. Bastian shut the door behind him and tucked his hands into his pockets.
“Hey.” I cleared my throat. “Sorry. This is . . . sort of stalker-ish.”
A shadow passed over his expression, then disappeared. He opened his mouth, then closed it again. A shrug came next, and I figured it’s as good as I could expect. All words fled my brain. Like stepping onto a stage and forgetting the lyrics.
“Look, I just . . . I felt like I made the wrong move back there. You really seemed . . . panicked, like you need help. And I felt bad for freaking out on you a bit. In full honesty, I just got out of a tough relationship six months ago and I’m still recovering.”
One of his eyebrows twitched. He studied me with unusual intensity. His weight shifted.
“Does my job offer somehow remind you of the guy?”
“No.”
He blinked, clearly perplexed. Heat flared in my cheeks. How could I explain that I didn’t want to be this near him because I was on track to a massive, walloping crush my heart wasn’t ready for?
It is so ready for him,Inner Me whispered.
“I want to help,” I said to him, just to shut her up. “Can I take it back?
A long silence lay between us.
“I really like your books,” I finally admitted. My gaze lifted to peer at him through my eyelashes. “Too much, maybe. I don’t wantto like them, but I do. That’s what took me by surprise. To be Jess . . . I just . . . I can barely reconcile these books with being you. It just seems so far-fetched. And yet . . . why would you make this up?”
My tone sounded far too much like I still had to convince myself. He leaned back against the house, all casual ease despite a burning hope in his voice.
“If you could help me manage the launch of this book, that would be . . .” He let out a long breath. “Very appreciated. You don’t have to become Jess. Even answering emails would be helpful.”
“Can I answer them as your assistant?”
