His jaw tightens, and his gaze flicks to my scraped hands, then back out the windshield, and for a second, he looks sober enough to scare me.
“And now,” I add quickly, because the fear is catching up, “now it’s really bad. Because Tanner is… he’s Deputy Tanner. Sheriff’s department. And he is absolutely going to make this a problem.”
Seth blinks slowly. “Deputy?”
“Yes.” I nod too hard, because panic needs somewhere to go, and apparently it’s going into my neck. “Like, badge. Gun. The authority to ruin everyone’s week. He’s gonna wake up tomorrow and decide that he didn’t lose a fight but got ‘assaulted.’ And you’re gonna be the villain, and he’s gonna be the poor wounded public servant.”
Seth frowns like he’s trying to hold the thought in his head and it keeps sliding off. “He didn’t feel like public service.”
“No,” I snap. “He felt like a restraining order with legs.”
I swallow, eyes flicking back to the mirror even though he’s already gone from view. “But… you’ll be fine,” I say, trying to convince myself as much as him. “You’re out of town in, what, a few weeks? The circuit packs up and disappears like a traveling circus. And your dad’s got friends. And sponsors. And the town council practically rolls out the red carpet for anything that brings money in, so they’ll protect you because—” I take a breath, words tumbling. But for me…
Seth hums, distracted.
I glance over and realize he’s not listening. Not really. He’s digging through my center console with the determination of a raccoon breaking into a cooler. Then he pulls out my stash of Oreos like he just found gold.
“Oh my God,” I groan. “Those are my emergency cookies.”
“Mm.” He pops one open with his thumb, then shoves half into his mouth. Crumbs scatter onto his jeans. He doesn’t care. “Smart woman.”
I stare at him, half horrified, half relieved that he’s acting normal. “I am literally spiraling, and you’re looting my car.”
“Want one?”
“No.”
He eats another anyway. “More for me.”
I hate that my mouth twitches into a smile.
The road hums under the tires, the town falling away behind us until the streetlights thin out and the dark starts to feel wider. My heartbeat finally eases down from a sprint to something closer to a speed walk, but my hands are still tight on the wheel, knuckles pale, palms stinging every time I shift my grip.
Beside me, Seth goes quiet. I glance over and find him with his forehead pressed against the passenger window, mouth slightly open. He’s asleep so suddenly it’s almost impressive. One hand is still curled around the Oreo, and there are crumbs scattered down his shirt and into his lap.
I stare at him for a long beat, equal parts annoyed and, against my will, fond.
“You are so weird,” I mutter, like it’s an insult. It doesn’t land like one.
He just exhales softly, a little puff of breath that fogs the glass near his temple.
The Ridge Motel comes into view a few minutes later, squatting at the edge of town like it gave up trying to be charming sometime in the late nineties. One flickering sign. Arow of doors facing the parking lot. Nothing around it except dark fields and a stretch of road that disappears into nowhere. No cute shops. No cozy streetlamps. Just the kind of place you end up when you’ve run out of options.
Pete insisted we put him up for the night to sleep it off instead of taking him to the Copper Canyon Guest Ranch, where some of the rodeo stars are renting for the duration of their stay in town.
I pull into the lot, park crooked because my nerves are still buzzing, and kill the engine. The sudden silence is loud.
For a second, I just sit here, hands resting on the wheel, listening for sirens that aren’t coming.
Then I glance at Seth again. He’s still out cold. I lean over and nudge his shoulder. “Seth.”
Nothing.
“Seth,” I try again, firmer. “C’mon. Wake up.”
He makes a sound that’s more disgruntled than human and shifts his cheek against the glass.
I sigh and reach for his arm. “Do not make me drag you. I will drop you. On purpose.”
