"Why not? You're loyal, protective?—"
"Grace." My voice is gentle but firm. "Leave it."
She realizes she's stepped on a landmine. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean?—"
"It's fine." Banshee's tone says it's not fine. "Just not interested in that life anymore. Once was enough."
Once.
Grace goes still beside me. "I'm sorry," she says quietly.
Banshee meets her eyes in the rearview mirror. "Yeah. Me too."
The silence stretches for a long, uncomfortable moment.
Then Banshee clears his throat. "But you know what? You two are disgustingly happy. It's actually kind of annoying."
There's affection in his voice. Not bitterness.
Grace relaxes slightly. "Jealous?"
"Nah. Just observant." Banshee's quiet for a beat. "You're good for each other. Don't fuck it up."
"Not planning on it," I say.
"Good. Because some people don't get second chances at this." His voice roughens. "You got lucky. Both of you. Don't take it for granted."
Grace reaches forward, squeezes his shoulder. "We won't. I promise."
Banshee covers her hand briefly with his—and I see that gold band again, stark against his tanned skin.
Then he pulls away, turns to look out the window.
Hiding whatever's on his face.
When we stop for a bathroom break at a rest area, Grace and I walk Charlie while Banshee stretches his legs by the truck.
"He lost someone when I was away at vet school, didn't he?" Grace asks quietly, watching Charlie sniff around in the grass.
My hands go into my pockets. "Yeah."
"His wife?"
"Yeah."
"How did I not know?"
"When she died, he didn’t want us talking about her. It was too much pain for him, I think, so we respected his wishes."
Grace's face crumples with sympathy. "And he still wears the ring."
"Yeah."
"What happened to her?"
I shake my head. "Not my story to tell, Grace. But it broke him. He's been barely holding it together since."
"And the phone calls?"
