Austin helps me into the cab. Then, we drive over to my luggage. I watch as he wraps it up quietly, making room for it in the cab. He won’t let me help. Says I should stay inside. Stay warm.
My stomach sours as the gravity of everything hits me. Then, my hands animate, digging into my purse, finding Trevor’s keys and placing them on the center console between us. I should take them inside, risk another confrontation. Instead, I leave them where they sit.
Back in the truck, Austin grips the steering wheel too tight, knuckles white. He flips through the stations, unable to find the right song. Turns it off, instead.
Silence.
I open my mouth to mention the keys when the phone buzzes again. Text message spewing vitriol, calling me too many names to count.
Austin watches as I read. “Want me to handle things?” he asks. Not enraged or unhinged, but with quiet, precise control.
“Done,” I answer, blocking Trevor’s phone number. A weight lifts. One I didn’t even know I was carrying. “I just wish he hadn’t ruined… our date.” The words come out small.
When we pull into the parking lot of the Sheriff’s Department, I freeze. Austin parks, and my shoulders climb to my ears.
The cowboy grabs the keys on the console, the first time he’s acknowledged their presence. “Be right back.”
He locks the truck behind him, disappearing inside.
I watch the door, waiting. Noticing how he parked near the entrance, so he can check on me through the window. How he kept the engine running to ensure my warmth. How he makes me feelprotectedeven when he’s somewhere else.
When he returns, I don’t have to ask.
He keeps it short and sweet. “Dropped the keys with Mack. Gave a statement about the luggage. You won’t be needing to deal with him again.”
I’d spent years believing closure had to hurt. Turns out it can be quiet.
“Thank you,” I say, too soft.
The big man exhales, jaw muscle working. “Can I take you somewhere?”
I shake my head. “It’s fine. You don’t have to do anything else for me…”
“One more spot. Please.”
My eyes meet his for an instant before he stares at the road again.
It’s not like I have anywhere else to go anyway.
“Okay.”
I expect my voice to come out pathetic and small.
Instead, it holds.
Steady.
Quiet.
Like it finally belongs to me.
Chapter
Eleven
ALLIE
“Private car,” the cowboy says at the ticket window. I exhale sharply reading the gondola sign. It’s too much. He shoves a wad of cash across the counter, making small talk with the resort employee like they know each other well. It’s also too late to pretend nothing’s changed.
