Sure. Coincidence.
My phone buzzed again.
Unknown number: You always did look better in red.
I flicked the message away without reading it twice, turned into the diner lot, and parked where the whole damn town could watch me eat a grilled cheese with my lawyer cousin.
CHAPTER TEN
LINC
The drive back from Everton was quiet except for the hum of the tires. The sky was heavy with clouds that had the look of snow in them, not the kind that dusted the ground and melted by noon, but the kind that stayed. The air had that brittle cold that burned the inside of your nose when you breathed too deeply. Kristin kept her hands at ten and two, eyes locked on the road ahead like she could steer us through whatever was coming next.
When we turned off the highway onto the long gravel lane that led to the house, the first flakes had started to fall. They caught the headlights and spun in tight spirals before hitting the windshield and melting away. By the time the yard came into view, the ground was already turning white. The porch lights glowed through the haze, and for a second, the sight of home almost felt peaceful.
She cut the engine and sat there with her hands still on the wheel. Her shoulders were rigid, jaw tight. I wanted to reach out to tell her we were fine, but the words stuck. She had been through enough in the last few days without me adding more weight to it.
“You hungry?” I asked finally.
She blinked like I had pulled her out of somewhere far away. “I could eat.”
That was all she said before she opened the door and climbed out. I followed, pulling my collar up against the cold. The snow crunched under our boots, the sound sharp and hollow in the quiet yard.
Inside, the house was warm. The chili I had left simmering in the slow-cooker filled the kitchen with the smell of spices and tomatoes. She hung her coat on the hook and stood near the stove with her hands stretched toward the heat. Her hair had come loose from its braid, a few strands sticking to her cheek. For a moment, she looked softer, less guarded, and it hit me how much I had missed seeing her like that.
“What?” I asked without turning.
“Nothing,” she said. “Just wondering if you were zoning out or planning another escape.”
I gave her the faintest smile. “Maybe both.”
“Wouldn’t surprise me.”
“Why? Are you worried I’ll run off with one of your horses?”
“Depends which one you would take.”
“Firefly.”
She laughed quietly. “Figures.”
We stood there a moment longer before I moved to grab bowls from the cupboard. She joined me at the counter and ladled out two servings like she lived here, like the last three years had been nothing but a blink. We sat across from each other at the table, and the only sounds were the clinking of spoons and the occasional sigh of the heater kicking on.
Her phone buzzed halfway through. She glanced at it, frowned, then flipped it face down.
“Problem?” I asked.
“Just orders. Nothing important.” Her tone said otherwise, but I let it go. She needed room to breathe, not me breathing down her neck.
After dinner, she cleaned up the bowls before I could stop her. When I told her to sit down, she ignored me completely. The bruise on her hip had her moving slower than usual, but her pride kept her upright. I leaned against the counter and watched her drying the dishes, the movements precise and methodical, like keeping busy could hold everything else at bay.
When the kitchen was spotless, she finally turned. “You’re staring at me again.”
“Habit.”
“Well, break it,” she grumbled.
“Not sure I can.” My words were far more husky than I’d intended. Her lips twitched, but she said nothing and brushed past me toward the living room. I heard the chime of her laptop and the faint tap of keys as she settled on the couch.
