Hell Fire

pictures on the brick wall that gave the room so much character. We’d agreed on a fluffy white rug in the center of the hardwood floor. I remembered drinking our morning coffee on the balcony, overlooking the ocean.

In Mexico City, I was hours from the sea. I had mountains instead. Though I’d made a life there, I’d probably never stop missing the one I’d left behind.

My expression must have given away my feelings, because he went on, more gently. “I still have the clothes you left behind hanging beside mine in the closet. I went day by day, trying to pretend you were coming back . . . until I couldn’t anymore. But know this: Nobody will ever love you like I do.”

“Chance . . .”

He hesitated. I could see him trembling, and though it might have been the chill, I didn’t think so. “I spent three days at your bedside with neither food nor sleep, Corine, and I promised any god or devil that might be listening I’d give anything for you to walk out of there on your own two feet. And when you left me, not only did I think I deserved it—I thought that was the price I had to pay for your survival. But nothing ever showed up to enforce the terms. Turned out there wasn’t any otherworld pact—just good medical personnel.” His beautiful mouth twisted. “When you live in our world, you tend to look for that, I guess, even when it’s not there.”

“That much is true.” My voice sounded rusty.

These days, I found myself seeking signs and symbols in the strangest places, some clue that I wasn’t making disastrous decisions. Sadly, there were no guarantees, and nobody ever gave you a do-over when it mattered. Butch whined, likely sensing my inner turmoil, and burrowed his head against my arm. I took comfort in his warm little body.

“But the fact is, I’m not willing to let you go. I will do my damnedest to be the man you need—I’ll even try to find some way to kill this luck—but you have to meet me halfway. Now, you tell me, should I keep trying? Sometimes I feel like I’m beating myself to death against a stone wall, and it’s named Corine.”

I found myself getting mad, and it helped banish the ache for what we’d lost. “I don’t care! I can’t predict how I’ll feel ten minutes from now, let alone wrap myself up for you with a bow and an instruction manual. You want me back? Earn me! I’m not giving you shortcuts or promises.”

He started to smile. “Earn you? Like a pay increase?”

“Not what I meant,” I muttered.

“I know what you mean.” Chance sounded impossibly tender as he bent his head and brushed his lips along my jaw. “I think I get it. Finally.”

A shiver stole through me. “Get what?”

“You.”

“No, you don’t.”

“Show, not tell, right, Corine? Action, not words. You don’t want to hear how sorry I am or how things will be different this time. You want to see it with your own eyes. And until I can show you that, you won’t tell me what I want to hear.”

Huh, he finally did get it.

“What’s that?”

His answer came low. “That you still love me.”

Oh God. I didn’t want to. I wanted to start over, and Chance had no place in my new life. I wished I could cut him out of me. But part of me would always look at him and remember he represented the first home I’d known since my mama died.

“You’re right on all counts. It broke my heart to leave, Chance. You’ll never know how hard it was for me to walk away from you, or how much strength it took. If we ever get back together, it’ll be because you convinced me we can make it work long term, and because you trust me with everything you are.”

He had been nodding, a smile building on his wonderful mouth, until I said the last thing. The breath ran out of him in a sigh. I hated the haunted look in his eyes, but I didn’t back down.

“Some of my secrets could hurt you,” he said quietly.

“And your luck could kill me.” Maybe that wasn’t fair. Maybe I shouldn’t have mentioned it. That wasn’t something he could help, after all.

“I know,” he murmured, tawny eyes full of smoke and shadow. “That’s why I let you walk away in the first place.”

“But you don’t love me enough to let me keep walking?”

His voice deepened, gained a raw note. “There aren’t words for what I feel for you.”

“You’ll have to prove that,” I said softly.

“Fair enough.”

“And you still didn’t answer my question.”

Chance raised his brows, plainly surprised. I guess he thought he’d succeeded in distracting me. “The why of it?”

“Exactly. Why are you so determined now when you could’ve tried at any point before I left?” Or come after me before you needed me, I added to myself.

“Because you’re back, and that’s like a second chance,” he said quietly. “I learned from losing you.”

“What do you mean?”

“After you left, I only had my pride for company. At first I was furious, and I tried to tell myself, ‘Fine, if that’s how she wants it.’ Unfortunately, I had plenty of time to think about the things we used to fight about and how none of them seemed to matter. I’m not saying I’d cave on every issue now, but I realized it’s important to pick your battles.

“There should’ve been more give-and-take between us, and a lot of that was my fault. Because I didn’t want to share, didn’t want to give you insights that would make me vulnerable. So this time I told you how I feel about Saldana. You said yourself—I never would’ve done that before. I’ve lost too many people. Now that you’re back in my life, I’ve made up my mind you won’t be one of them. But I won’t push you.”

I considered what he’d said, and it all seemed honest enough; certainly more than he would’ve offered in the past. If Chance really wanted to change, I’d wait and see. He had been right when he said I wanted proof, not promises. It was easier to say, Baby, come back. Things will be different this time. But it could be hard to put the words into practice, and sometimes, good intentions resulted in falling back into old habits.

“Is that what you guys talked about at the bar? You agreed to back off?”

“Pretty much.”

“Thanks. It was starting to get awkward. And I appreciate your giving me the space I need to figure out what I want.”

“Take your time.”

“Talking about your feelings is only the tip of the iceberg, though it’s a good start. If you really want me back, you have to tell me who you are . . . and part with those closely held secrets.”

“I know. Give me time too. Rome wasn’t built in a day.” His tone ached with intensity, but he changed the subject, fixing me with a glare. “Dirt, Corine? First houses, now dirt? I’m worried about you, love. I’m afraid you’re going to push yourself too far; that you’ll go into a handling and you won’t come out again. I had no idea you could do this stuff, none at all.”

Well, I couldn’t, before I’d died. I didn’t tell him that.

Chance went on. “What’s it going to be next? Highways? Bridges? I thought your power only applied to buttons, shirts, lost jewelry—”

“I don’t know what my limits are,” I put in quietly. “But if anyone deserves my best, it’s my mom.”

He bowed his head then, in silent acknowledgment. I’d given his mother my best—and we’d saved her. When he spoke next, it was only to make plans. “We should eat, gear up, and then get out there.”

Food sounded like a good idea. As we went inside for more of my famous peanut butter sandwiches, I remembered I hadn’t mentioned the most important thing. “The bad guy . . . the one who choked Farrell in my vision?”

Butch wiggled, demanding to get down. He trotted into the kitchen, and I heard him munching his kibble— lunchtime for him too.

Chance paused just inside the front door. “Yeah?”