And that’s exactly what he is.
Aman.
The thought makes my stomach flutter.
I shift in my seat, suddenly very aware of my body and the way it’s reacting to him.
Holt clears his throat. “Road’s going to get worse. Fast,” he says. “You picked one hell of a day to come out to the mountains.”
It feels almost like a question, but just like my dad, he doesn’t actually ask why I’m there, so I don’t offer up an explanation.
Instead, I simply say, “I guess I didn’t think to check the weather before I came.”
He grunts, and I can almost hear him thinking,rookie mistake.
“How far out is my dad’s place?”
For the first time, he looks at me, sparing me only the briefest glance before focusing on the road again.
“I’m not taking you to Luke’s place,” he says through gritted teeth. “You’re coming home with me.”
Holt
The silence in the truck stretches too long.
It’s not awkward. Not exactly. It’s worsethan that.
It’s heavy and loaded with everything I’m trying not to think about.
The storm has kicked up in earnest now. Rain is hammering against the windshield, the roads quickly turning to mud and slick beneath my tires. Despite my urgency to get home and out of the confined space with Tessa, I slow down in an effort to navigate the truck safely.
She’s sitting too close.
And she’s way too much of a woman for the memory I’ve been carrying around for years.
Luke’s kid is just that.A kid.
Only, she’s not. Not anymore.
“You can just take me to my dad’s,” she says. “I’ll be?—”
“No.” I don’t mean it to come out so gruff, and I clear my throat and try again. “Luke’s place is too far up the mountain. With this storm, the creeks will spill and close the road. We’ll be lucky to make it to my place in time.”
“Oh.”
She doesn’t say anything else, so I add, “Just for a day or two. Then I’ll take you up there.”
“Okay.” She nods and turns to look out the window.
After a few more minutes of silence, I clear my throat. “You didn’t tell your dad you were coming.”
She shifts in her seat. “It was kind of a last-minute decision.”
That tracks. Luke never would have left the mountain if his daughter were coming. For the first time ever.
I want to ask why now? Why visit her father after all these years of staying away? But it doesn’t feel like my place to say anything.
Instead, I focus on the drive and let the silence build again.
