Twenty-Eight
VOODOO
Three months back at Base, and spring had finally bullied winter into stepping aside. Montana didn’t warm up so much asthaw, slow and suspicious, like it expected snow to ambush it at any minute. Which—honestly—was fair.
But today? Today was damn near perfect. Blue skies. Crisp air. Smell of pine waking up again. And the soft thud-thud-thud of construction floating from behind the house, where Bones, Lunchbox, and Alphabet were arguing over load-bearing supports for the deck we were apparently building with the paranoid precision of a military bunker.
Firecracker blamed me for the design plans getting more elaborate every week. I blamed her sparkling blue eyes and the way she saidpleaselike she didn’t know it was a nuclear-grade weapon.
Speaking of…
“Voodoo!” she called from the stairs, tugging her hair into a loose ponytail as she hopped down the last step. “I’m ready.”
I was supposed to be heading into town alone to pick up the custom French doors—doors that had taken four damn shipping hops and a forged delivery route to make sure no one ever tracedanything back to Base. Old habits. Necessary habits. And with Grace here? Non-negotiable.
But when she’d said she wanted to come with me—sunshine in her voice, promise in her smile—yeah, I wasn’t about to say no.
“Looking good, Firecracker,” I said as I grabbed the keys off the hook.
She rolled her eyes. “I’m in jeans and a sweatshirt.”
“Exactly. Looking good.”
She bumped me with her hip as she passed. “You’re biased.”
“Obviously,” I said, opening the door for her. “And correct.” In more ways than one. The pale, haunted look had retreated. She had a healthier glow to her skin, a playfulness that came easier and easier to the smile she often wore.
The nightmares still came, but less and less. Two days earlier, she’d told a story about her sister and her eyes hadn’t instantly sheened with tears. Though she’d immediately flicked a look to Alphabet who gave her a quick shake of his head with a measure of regret in his expression.
She’d steeled herself, then lifted her chin and asked us for stories. Stories about when we were younger, home lives, families… None of us could resist her. It didn’t take long before we unearthed some hilarious memories that had her in stitches.
Progress.
The breeze hit us the second we stepped outside. Somewhere in the trees, birds were making an unholy racket. Springsong. Life happening again. Looked a lot like Grace these days.
I’d gotten the big truck out of the garage, we needed the extended bed for this trip. When I opened the passenger door for her, she winked thenclimbedinto the passenger seat. Once she was in place, she grinned at me with that soft, relaxed look she only got out here—away from shadows, away from memories with teeth.
Satisfied, I closed the door and circled round to the driver’s side. As I slid behind the wheel, I tapped two buttons on my phone. It turned on the GPS. We had our own trackers, but habits were habits for a reason. Mirroring me, she pulled out her phone and swiped across the screen to show me she already had hers on.
God, I loved her.
“You excited to get the doors?” she asked, pocketing the phone once more.
“Sure am. Means we can finish the frame next week.” I flicked her a look. “You’re really getting that deck, huh?”
Grace grinned. “Told you I would win the deck battle.”
“You didn’t win. Youwore us down.”
Her snort of laughter was everything. “You agreed before dinner was over. That’s not winning?”
“Bones agreed,” I corrected. Some reservations had been assuaged when I sourced the doors. More as we worked out how to do it. “Some of us took more convincing.”
She laughed, bright and warm, and I’d drive sixteen hours just to hear that sound again.
We rolled down the gravel until it met the mountain road, the forest curling in around us like a living tunnel. She rested her cheek against the window, taking it all in with the same wonder she always did lately—like the world was something she could touch now instead of just survive.
“We should take you deeper into the mountains soon,” I said. “Past Harlow Ridge. Maybe hit the falls.”
