During a gas station stop while Vaughn is inside paying, I find myself standing next to Callum by the car, both of us stretching our legs in the cool air.
"Thank you," I tell him. "For helping us. For not—for not judging what we did. What we are."
Callum looks at me with kind eyes that crinkle at the corners. "Mr. Sutherland is a good man. Maybe he didn't start this the right way. But he ended it the right way. That's what matters. And you—you make him better. Make him human instead of just ambitious. So, no thanks necessary, Miss Eden. It's an honor to help."
The words make my throat tight with emotion I don't quite know how to process.
"I don't know if I make him better. I just—I just love him. Even though I probably shouldn't. Even though it's completely insane given how we started."
"Love is always a bit insane," Callum says with a small smile. "The sane kind isn't worth much, in my experience. It's the insane kind—the kind that makes you give up everything, risk everything, choose someone over your own best interests—that's the kind that lasts. That's the kind worth having."
Vaughn emerges from the gas station with coffee and snacks.
Callum excuses himself to use the restroom, leaving us alone by the car.
"What were you two talking about?" Vaughn asks, handing me a coffee.
"Love. And insanity. And how the two might be the same thing."
He smiles. "Callum's a philosopher at heart. Always has been. Ready to get back on the road?"
"Ready."
We reach Montana as the sun is setting on the second evening, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink and purple that seem impossible, too vivid to be real.
The landscape has transformed completely from anything I've ever known—wide open spaces that stretch forever, mountains in the distance rising like ancient guardians, sky so big it feels like you could fall up into it and never stop.
It's beautiful. Overwhelming.
This is wild. Untamed. Free.
Like maybe I can be wild and untamed and free here too.
The house appears as we turn off the main road onto a long gravel drive that winds through pine forest.
It sits in a clearing surrounded by trees, mountains visible beyond, a small meadow stretching behind it where wildflowers probably bloom in summer.
It's not large—maybe three bedrooms—but it's beautiful in a rustic, honest way.
Log construction that looks hand-built.
Wide windows reflecting the sunset.
A porch that wraps around the entire structure like an embrace.
Nothing like the estate we left behind.
This is simpler. More real.
A place you could actually live instead of just existing to impress others.
"It's perfect," I say as we pull up.
"It's isolated," Vaughn warns. "The nearest neighbor is probably five miles away. The nearest town is thirty miles. We'll be very alone out here."
"Good. I've had enough of crowds and audiences and people watching. Alone sounds perfect."
Inside is exactly what I expected after seeing the exterior—simple but comfortable.
