ON FIRE FOR HIM

Smoke Signals

Reese didn’t sleep.

He lay on his back staring at the ceiling, noticing how the shadow of the ceiling fan was spinning like a slow-motion blade.

Every time he closed his eyes, he was back in that hallway, the smell of Macs’ skin still on him, and the taste of his lips then one word replayed in his head.

‘Hide’

It wasn’t the argument, the shouting, or the way Macs had looked at him with that terrifying, cold steel in his eyes.

It was that one syllable. ‘Hide’.

Reese rolled onto his side, and he muffled a frustrated groan into his pillow.

He understood the crushing weight of family expectations that felt more like an obligation. But being told to disappear after he’d finally felt seen? He didn’t know how to handle that.

By the time he dragged himself into the Tavern the next afternoon, Grace was already behind the bar, her dark hair tied back in a messy knot, and she was arranging a tray of clean glasses onto the rack.

She looked up once and immediately sighed.

“You look like someone who tried to fight a hurricane with a spoon,” she said, and he could hear the worry in her voice.

Reese dropped onto a stool, He didn't even try to fake a smile. “I went to his house.”

Grace froze, a glass halfway to the shelf. “And?”

“And it was… good.” He swallowed hard, the memory of Macs’ hands on him clashing with the memory of the bathroom.

“Until it wasn’t.”

Grace stopped what she was doing, She just waited patiently, leaning her elbows on the bar in that way that usually meant she was ready to catch whatever information he threw at her.

“He told me to hide,” Reese whispered.

Her expression softened,

“That’s it?” she asked carefully.

“That’s it?” Reese’s voice cracked, he expected her to understand at least.

“Grace, I was in his arms five minutes before that. He treated me like a secret he was embarrassed to keep.”

“He lives in a world where vulnerability gets you killed, Reese,” she said gently.

“So that makes it okay? I should just be happy with the scraps of his time until some biker decides to check his front porch?”

“No,” she said bluntly. “It doesn’t make it okay. But it makes it explainable.”

Reese looked away, his gaze landing on the spot where Macs sat the last two times he came around, empty. “He said I get to live a happy little life. Like my life is some fairy tale because I’m not carrying a gun.”

Grace’s jaw tightened. “That was unfair. Especially after the call with your mother.”

“Exactly.”

“Reese, look at me.” She reached across the bar and squeezed his hand, her grip firm. “You’re looking for perfect. You want someone brave and emotionally available and fearless and ready to burn the world down for you the second you ask.”

“I don’t think that’s unreasonable,” he muttered, rubbing his fingers on his sweatshirt.

“It is,” she said, her voice dropping to a supportive low.

“Because that person doesn’t exist. You don’t have a happy little life, and neither does he. The difference is… his consequences are more. If you get caught, you get a cold shoulder. If he gets caught, he gets a shallow grave.”

Reese exhaled slowly, her words sinking in. He didn't want to be a secret, but for the first time, he saw things from Mac’s point of view, It was complicated, messy, and even terrifying.

***

Macs knew he was being watched, a feeling that hadn't left him since Tank walked off his porch.

At first, he told himself it was paranoia, but then the signs became impossible to ignore, a silver truck was parked two blocks away from the gym, a bike at the corner that stayed a little too long and a silhouette in the rearview mirror that always turned away just as he looked.

He didn't confront it, because he knew Tank was reckless, but this felt like a different thing. It felt too organized, like there were people Tank had started working with.

His phone buzzed one night, and it was an encrypted message from the dark web. A high pay, short notice, and most importantly out of state job.

Normally, Macs would’ve weighed the risks and considered going or not. But looking at the space in his bed where Reese had lain just twenty-four hours ago, he felt a suffocating need to leave town for a while.

It will also get Tank off his back for a while and let things settle down.

He packed light, his 9mm, a stack of cash, and a burner phone.

For a split second, his thumb hovered over Reese’s contact name. He wanted to apologize and explain that he didn’t mean any of that.

The highway out of Kansas Falls was a long, dark, and seemingly endless, Macs rode alone, as he desperately tried to outrun the look on Reese’s face when he turned and walked away from his house.

His phone buzzed in his jacket pocket. Once, twice, five times.

He ignored it till he couldn't, he pulled off the road into a deserted, rusting gas station, removed his helmet, the cool air hitting his sweat-damp hair, and looked at the screen.

Ten missed calls from Reese, his stomach dropped. Reese wasn't the type to beg, so he knew something was certainly wrong.

There was also a message from an unknown number, he opened that one first.

It was a blurry photo taken from a dark path across the street from the Tavern.

It was Reese, standing under the neon sign, looking at his phone with a worried expression.

Another message followed, “You should’ve stayed, Boss. Traveling is dangerous.”

Macs’ blood ran cold. The gas station lot felt like it was closing in on him. His phone rang again, and Reese’s name lit up the screen.

Macs answered immediately. “Reese? Reese, listen to me”

There was no reply. Just the sound of heavy breathing on the other end, and he knew it wasn't Reese.

“You really thought leaving town would fix this, Michaelangelo?” Tank’s voice boomed from the other end of the phone.

“You left your little Prince all by himself. He looks really pretty in the moonlight.” Then the line went dead.

Macs stood frozen, his heart pounding so violently he thought it might shatter his ribs. He looked back toward the highway, the way back to Kansas Falls.

He wasn't the hunter anymore, he had been baited. And it definitely didn’t feel great, Tank shouldn’t test him by hurting Reese.

He sped on his motorcycle back to Kansas fall, he knew with certainty, he was already too late.