I barked out a laugh, incredulous. “Trackers and tracers are acceptable, but phone tapping is too far?”
“What do you take me for?” He gave me a look like I was the unreasonable one.
Before I could retort, he pressed a button on the dash and suddenly there was ringing, echoing through the cab.
“Holy fuck, you better be half dead to wake me up at three in the morning.” Ryder’s voice filled the truck, groggy and sharp.
“Just wanted to let you know I’m coming home,” Linc said.
“This couldn’t have waited until morning?”
“No. Had a bit of trouble. It should be fine, but we’ll be coming in hot and need horses taken care of.”
“Who’s we?”
“Kristin and I.”
“She let you in her truck? What the fuck happened?” The sound of bedsprings creaking carried over the line. He was awake now, fully.
“Not only did she let me in,” Linc said, lips twitching, “I’m driving it. We’ll explain when we get there, but heads up, we got married.”
“You what?” Ryder’s voice cracked, sharp with disbelief, before Linc thumbed the call off.
My phone buzzed immediately. Lexie. Of course.
“Hello,” I said, voice sugar-sweet, as if nothing at all was wrong and it wasn’t the middle of the night.
“You got married? You got married to Lincoln?” she screeched, and I jerked the phone away, wincing. I hit the speaker and set it in my lap.
“Yeah. Surprise.”
“This isn’t funny, Krissy. What’s going on?” I glanced sideways at Linc. He shook his head once. No details. Not over the phone and not to a lawyer.
“Well,” I said, forcing a laugh, “let’s just say a bit too much alcohol and a wedding chapel don’t mix.”
Linc smirked, smug as hell, his profile etched against the glow of the dash. His bruised face looked worse in the light, one eye already swelling shut, but that damn smirk made something inside me uncoil.
The desert wind whistled against the cab. The road hummed under us. The stars stretched wide and sharp above the windshield, endless and indifferent.
And even though my world was upside down, even though fear still lingered in my bones, for the first time in three years, I felt like maybe, just maybe, I wasn’t alone anymore.
CHAPTER SIX
LINC
The highway stretched out, straight and dusty, with Montana lazily rolling beside us. The morning sunlight sat low and warm on the horizon, and the sky seemed endless. Kristin’s truck rumbled beneath me, trailer in tow, every bump and dip rattling my teeth a little more than I liked. The steady hum of the diesel filled the silence, rhythmic and constant, as I kept my eyes on the road with hands firmly gripping the wheel. The sun hit the cracked windshield just right, illuminating the dust dancing inside the cab. She sat in the passenger seat, knees pulled slightly up, a blanket wrapped around her legs.
Her injuries made her wince with each jolt from the trailer, every breath that caught, even when she thought I wasn’t looking. I wanted to reach over, brush a strand of hair from her face, make her laugh to distract her from the aches, but I didn’t. Couldn’t. Not yet. Not until we were safely home.
The smell of stale coffee lingered in the cab, mingling with her shampoo, a sweet and clean scent that cut through the grit of diesel and road dust. Her hair was a little tangled, her cheeks still pale from pain and exhaustion, but she was the most alive thing I’d seen in years. I kept my eyes on the highway, but Icaught glimpses of her reflection in the side window, the rise and fall of her chest, and the way her fingers twisted at the edge of the blanket.
Silence settled between us, heavy with everything unspoken. The kind of silence that wasn’t empty but weighted, like a storm waiting to break. I stole glances when I thought she wasn’t looking, taking in the curve of her jaw, the tense set of her shoulders, the way her lips pressed together when she stared out at the horizon. Goddamn it, she still had me. She always had me.
“Your ribs, okay?” I asked finally, keeping my voice low, not wanting to startle her.
She turned, eyes narrowing. “They’re fine,” she muttered, voice clipped, clearly trying not to admit how bad it hurt. Her chin lifted stubbornly, the same way it always had when she was determined to hide pain.
“Right,” I said, gritting my teeth. “Because you’re never subtle about anything, Kristin. That’s why I noticed the grimace before you even opened your mouth.”
