Page 212 of Silent Shadows

Taylor startles. It’s dark enough that I can’t see their faces, but silent enough that I can make out their conversation.

“I’m fine,” she says.

“You shake when you get cold.”

“I wasn’t cold.”

“Sure.” He steps back like he just offered her a piece of gum. Like none of this qualifies as intimacy.

Taylor’s still looking his way, her jaw dropped. Almost offended by how seen she was in that interaction—which, honestly, relatable. She grips the jacket closed anyway. Breathes deep. Finally, Owen looks out toward the dark.

“You don’t have to hold it together all the time.”

Something in Taylor’s posture shifts so subtly I almost miss it. Her chin dips.

“I’m fine,” she says.

“Mm-hmm.” Owen makes that annoying noise people make when they know you’re lying. He glances sideways at her. “Go sit down before you pass out.”

“Bossy.”

Owen scoffs quietly, a small smile tugging at his lips.

Then, quieter: “Come on, Tay.”

Taylor exhales hard through her nose. Protesting and petulant.

But she complies, turning to walk with Owen back toward the RV—toward us. She keeps the jacket on.

I turn back to Miles, feeling like I’m creeping on their moment. My nerdy man sits there like he forgot what comes next, like he walked out of one life and into another. I grab his hand, lead him inside, and have him sit in a desk chair while I grab drinks for everyone. Owen helps me, grabbing a beer for himself and handing one to Miles. No words. Just brother language. I sit down with a beer next to Miles, and everyone drinks in silence.

The RV settles around us slowly as everyone’s brains arrive back online, one piece at a time.

Outside, wind brushes softly against metal siding. The desert carries on. Keeping its secrets.

Jax has fully cocooned himself in a blanket now, still shell-shocked.

“I just want everyone to know,” he says thickly, “we’re bonded for life now. So, I think it only makes sense that we get matching tattoos.”

“Yes,” Taylor says.

“No,” Maya says at the same time.

“Absolutely not,” Owen mutters.

I laugh before I can stop myself. The sound slips out easier than it used to.

Miles glances over. A small, tired smile.

I look around. At the glass bottles clinking.

At Jax ascending to a new level of emotional vulnerability.

At Maya pretending she isn’t dying to collect everyone’s empty beer bottles and put them in the recycling.

At Taylor standing in borrowed warmth while Owen quietly makes sure she eats something, passing her pretzels one at a time.

I look at maps and radios and muddy boots piled by the door.