The veteran’s center is nestled a little way up the mountain where the land plateaus before the jagged ridges and valleys of the mountains.
It’s a fifteen-minute drive to the town of Hope at the base of the mountain, and my pulse races the whole way. I take the final corner too fast and skid into Hope with a squeal of tires.
I pass the airbase and the Bedrock Security offices just as Marcus pulls in, and I speed past him, noting his WTF look. I do contract security work for him, but I’m taking time out to help Joel for the final few weeks before the center opens.
A moment later, my phone rings, but I ignore it. I can fill Marcus in later.
The hostel where the work crew is staying is on the other side of town. In the summer, it’s full of hikers, climbers, and seasonal workers who bolster the local workforce during the tourist season. But this time of year there aren’t a lot of tourists.
As I speed toward the Sunny View hostel, there is neither sunshine nor a view. It’s nestled down a back street next to a laundromat and a fried chicken shop. Out front is a parking lot, and I spot Willow’s run-down Ford Focus. Relief turns to anger as I pull into the parking lot.
She’s just late. While everyone else is working, she’s slacking off back at the hostel. Unless she’s sick or injured, there’s no excuse for letting her team down.
As I circle the parking lot, the door of the hostel bangs open, and Willow strides out. Her hair is caught in a topknot, exposing her long pale neck. She’s not even got her overalls on. Instead, she wears a floaty floral dress with her work boots, and she has her backpack thrown over one shoulder.
As she barrels toward her car, I swing around to pull up next to her, causing her to let out a cry and jump back, her eyes wide with fear.
“Hey, it’s me, Hudson,” I tell her as I stick my head out the window.
Her hand flutters to her chest. “You scared the shit out of me. Why are you careening around the parking lot?”
She’s annoyed with me for scaring her, but something’s got her jumpy. I climb out of my pickup as she swings her backpack into the passenger seat of her car.
“What’s going on?”
“Nothing.” She slams the passenger door and moves around to the driver’s side. Her gaze darts to the street as she opens the car door.
I walk around the car, noting the gear piled up in the back seat. There are sticks of wood, and it takes me a moment to place them before I realize it’s an easel. I also spot a canvas in the back seat and a large carrier bag with a pillow on top.
“You going somewhere?”
“Nope.” She slides into the driver’s seat and starts the engine.
“Whoa.” I grab the door before she can close it. “Hold up.” I’m not letting Willow drive away without an explanation. You don’t just break the rules of your parole for no reason.
Glaring at me, Willow turns over the engine and starts to drive. I cling to the door, stumbling as the car moves forward.
“Stop the damn car. I want to talk to you.”
She huffs out a breath and brings the car to a stop, but I keep a hold of the door in case she tries it again.
“You’re skipping town?”
She scowls at me. “It’s none of your business, Hudson.” Her eyes blaze with fire and determination. I should let her go. It’s none ofmy business if she wants to break her parole; she’ll have to face the consequences.
But I can’t forget the way she looked at me just now, the messages that have been worrying her, and the fear that radiates under the surface of her determined glare. I can’t let her go like this.
“You’re right. It’s none of my business, but is it worth breaking the terms of your parole?”
“I suppose you’ll be the first to report me.” She bangs a fist on the steering wheel, desperation breaking through her anger. “Can you just give me an hour before you call it in? I just need one hour.”
The fact that she thinks I’d report her makes me wince. I believe in doing what’s right, but I’m no snitch. If she wants to break her parole and get herself sent to jail, then that’s on her.
I can’t imagine Willow in jail, wearing a gray jumpsuit and eating sloppy food, being cooped up in a cell, her light hidden away.
“Whatever’s going on, maybe I can help.”
I release the car door, but she doesn’t drive away. Instead, she clasps the steering wheel and shakes her head.
