“What’s so funny?” His hand catches mine—our fingers brushing against one another.
“Just thinking that I might need to raid my sister’s growing collection of paperbacks soon.”
Cruz hangs out of the passenger seat window. “Get in, loser. We’re going adventuring,” he deadpans.
A laugh slips out before I can stop it. “I haven’t seen that movie in forever.”
Cruz tips his head back against the seat and looks at me, one corner of his mouth lifting. “We should fix that.”
I reach for the rear passenger door handle, but Gage stops me with a hand on the small of my back. “Cruz is gonna take the back.”
Cruz turns in his seat immediately. “The hell I am. I called shotgun. Bells knows to respect the sacred tradition of shotgun.” He looks at me from underneath the bill of his baseball hat. “Don’t you?”
I shake my head and grin, reaching around Gage to open the door. “Unfortunately, I do know the rule. I’m good in the back.”
Cruz huffs out a quiet laugh, dragging a hand over his jaw. “Man,” he mutters. “As soon as Bells gets in the car, suddenly you’re all serious.”
Gage leans a forearm against the top of the door, finally looking at him. “You don’t have to come along, you know.”
Cruz’s mouth tilts. “And miss an adventure with Bells? I don’t think so.”
An hour into the drive, the novelty of wind in my hair and music bleeding through the speakers starts to give way to something else:Curiosity.
I shift slightly in my seat, glancing between them. “So what kind of adventure is this today?”
Gage’s mouth curves. “The best kind.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“It’s the only one you’re getting right now.”
“Have you been spending time with Bishop lately?” I narrow my eyes at him, then glance back at Cruz. “Does it have anything to do with our recent job?”
Cruz looks over his shoulder at me, his voice cutting in before Gage can answer. “Nah.”
I don’t buy it.
I turn back toward the windshield. “What’s the status update, anyway? I haven’t been to the garage lately.”
Meaning: I haven’t been in the room where decisions are being made.
Gage exhales through his nose. “That’s because there hasn’t been anything to go to.”
Cruz adds, “We might have a lead.”
My attention snaps back. “On what?”
Gage keeps his eyes on the road. “Salvage yard. Someone flagged a Mack truck getting processed that didn’t sit right.”
My stomach tightens slightly. “Is that where we’re going?”
Cruz shakes his head. “Nah. That’s back in Hollow Beach.”
I turn toward the window. The desert slides past, flat and unhurried, the dry air swirling around me like a reminder of how far I am from the ocean. It clings to my skin, gritty and hot, an oppressive weight compared to the salty breeze that lifts the hair off my neck back home.
As I watch the landscape blur by, I can almost feel the sun beating down, melting into the asphalt, the scent of sagebrush and dust heavy in the air. I don’t mind the desert, but it doesn’t spark the same sense of freedom as being by the ocean does.
Out there, I could breathe; here, I feel like I’m suffocating in the stillness.
