Afterward he wraps me in a towel, and carries me back to the bedroom. He dresses me in his clothes again—sweats this time, soft and oversized—then pulls me down onto the bed. We lie there, tangled, listening to the drip of melting snow outside.
His hand finds mine. Fingers lace tight. “Whatever happens today,” he says against my hair, “this doesn’t end. You and me. This feeling. This promise. It doesn’t end.”
I turn my face into his chest, and press a kiss over his heart. “It doesn’t end,” I echo. And for the first time since I saw that black SUV in my rearview mirror, I believe it.
The pass is open. The sheriff is on his way.
My brother is coming. But so is the rest of our life. And we’re going to meet it together—scarred, scared, and stupidly, fiercely in love.
I close my eyes. Feel his heartbeat under my cheek. And for one perfect, suspended moment?—
Everything is quiet.
Everything is possible.
Everything is ours.
ELEVEN
BECK
Silas James’s truck crawls up the drive just after noon, chains clanking on the half-melted snow, red-and-blue lights cutting weak pulses through the thinning gray.
I watch from the porch, rifle slung low across my body—not pointed, not yet. Sabrina stands behind me, close enough that I feel her trembling against my back. Her hand is fisted in the hem of my coat like she’s afraid the wind might snatch her away if she lets go.
Sheriff James steps out—big, intimidating in the best of ways. He tips his hat, eyes flicking from me to Sabrina, then to the rifle.
“Beck Ironwood,” he drawls. “Heard you had company.”
“Had,” I say. “Still have.”
He nods slowly, and looks past me at Sabrina. “Miss Hart?”
She steps forward—just one half-step. Her voice is steady when she speaks, but I hear the crack beneath it. “Yes.”
“Got your message. Said you had evidence of financial fraud. Said someone was following you. Said it might get ugly.”
“It already is ugly,” she says.
Silas exhales through his nose. “You got that evidence on you?”
She nods toward the small waterproof pouch tucked inside her borrowed coat—the USB drive, still sealed, still the only thing standing between her and whatever Ethan’s willing to do to bury it.
Silas holds out a gloved hand. “I’ll take it now. Chain of custody. You know how it works.”
Sabrina hesitates.
I feel it—the sudden hitch in her breathing, the way her fingers tighten on my coat. I turn my head just enough to catch her eye.
She looks at me like she’s asking permission to jump off a cliff.
I nod once.
She pulls the pouch free, and hands it over.
Silas pockets it without opening it. “Good. I’ll get this to the DA in Missoula by end of day. They’ll want your statement. Formal. Recorded.”
“Now?” she asks.
