His discomfort somehow makes it easier to breathe.
Tomorrow, we head back to the place where everything started.
And ended.
And maybe—just maybe—where we’ll finally finish it.
Together.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
VALEN
Leaving Happiness feels like committing a crime that makes no sense.
Clover sits in the passenger seat of the RV, counting under her breath as we pass theTake Some Happiness with Yousign at the town limits. Her fingers tap against her thigh—one, two, three, four, five—and her breathing is measured and controlled.
But I have a feeling underneath this mask, she’s anything but calm.
Ever since we smuggled her into the back of the RV and pulled out of her driveway, she’s been a shell, an illusion of who she was becoming. She has the strongest coping mechanisms I’ve ever witnessed, but how effective are they really?
“Are you okay?” I keep my tone even and light so I don’t startle her again.
I still can’t believe she got the jump on me in her kitchen. I’m not sure who was more surprised, her or me, but I am grateful to know that in times of duress, her muscle memory kicks in, even if her mind freezes.
“Three. Four. Five.” She mumbles the rest of her count before looking at me. “It’s just a lot.”
“I know.”
“The farthest from home I’ve been lately is Greyson’s new office, and it practically straddles the line of Happiness and Hopevale. That’s—” She laughs, and it’s a wobbly sound with no joy. “It’s less than five miles from my house.”
Chief leans forward from the new leather recliner I had bolted to the floor that he quickly claimed as his territory. “You’re doin’ great, Clover. Just keep moving forward.”
“There’s no pressure here,” I say gently. “No judgment. This is your call, Clover. Yes, getting you out of Happiness, and out from under the all-seeing eye of your stalker is appealing, and as your boyf—ah—bodyguard.”Holy shit.“I also understand if it’s too much. If you can’t handle any part of it, then we’ll find a plan B.”
Fuck. I almost called myself her boyfriend.
Her gaze lingers on my face. Those honey-colored eyes bore into my soul, and I wish I weren’t driving so I could get lost in them. I have no doubt that this woman knows me better than anyone, even myself. I wish I could recall how we got to this point.
“I can do this,” she says, before biting her bottom lip.
“You can,” I agree.
She’s picking at her cuticles now—a habit I’ve noticed she does when counting isn’t enough. Her thumb works at the skin beside her nail until I gently cover her fingers with mine. She stills, and it’s as though her nervous energy bleeds from her limbs into mine.
“I can do anything for five seconds.” Her voice is like honey. Sweet. Tame. Rich.
She can do so much more than she realizes. Five seconds, or five million, she has an inner strength I wish she could acknowledge. Clover Danforth is a warrior—she just hasn’t recognized that piece of herself yet.
Behind us, Wrecks has claimed the entire floor where the Murphy bed should be, sprawled out like he owns the vehicle, chewing on his third “indestructible” toy of the hour. I glance in the rearview mirror where Chief’s puttering around in the kitchenette, listening to something that sounds suspiciously like pop music while Clover…
She’s watching the world go by as though she’s seeing it for the first time.
“Look!” She rolls down her window and inhales deeply before pointing at a roadside fruit stand. “Peach cobbler. It smells heavenly, doesn’t it?”
I side-eye her. “Clover, we’re going sixty miles an hour.”
“I can smell them.” She’s practically hanging out the window, so I reach over, grab a fistful of her sweater, and drag her back in before I crash the RV from a heart attack.
