Page 128 of Freefall

His deep baritone laugh echoes through the cab of the truck, catching me completely off guard. I gape at him, but he keeps flashing that carefree grin of his.

“Look, do you want me to tell you what you want to hear or the truth?”

I pause to think it over. “Let’s try the truth, and if I really don't like it, you can tell me you were kidding.”

“Deal.” His fingers drum absentmindedly against the steering wheel. “When people say it’s too late, it usually isn’t. They're just too scared to fix it.”

I turn the words over in my mind, trying to study them from every angle. When I don’t respond right away, he chuckles.

“Go ahead.”

“Go ahead with what?”

“Tell me I’m right.”

I wrinkle my nose. “I would never.”

We both laugh this time, and by the time we stop, I’m considering his words in earnest. He’s right. I am absolutely terrified to fix whatever this thing is between Nate and me.

If it can even be fixed at this point.

TJ’s smile turns smug, like he already knows exactly what conclusion I've come to. I refuse to give him the satisfaction, though, so I turn toward the window instead.

As soon as we turn off the main road, the houses begin to disappear, and trees line both sides of the street, growing thicker with each mile.

“This is beautiful,” I tell him. “I’ve never been out this way. Is it much further?”

“About another twenty minutes or so,” he says. “Rich people love their secluded backdrops. Do you need anything?” He nods toward a blue metal bottle sitting in the center console. “There’s ice water in that thermos.”

I swallow past the dry lump in my throat. Nate would be so mad that I forgot to bring my water bottle. Shaking the thought away, I reach for the thermos. “Yeah, actually, that would be amazing.” I take a long sip of the cold water as TJ pulls onto a narrow dirt road. The truck bounces over deep ruts before rolling to a stop.

“Hey, I need to check something real quick,” TJ says, climbing out. “I’ll be right back.”

“I’ll be here,” I say lightly.

I watch him disappear around the back of the truck. He leaves the driver’s door open, and a cool breeze rushes through the cab. I pull my jacket tighter. It’s colder up here. Windier, too. We must’ve climbed a decent amount.

I adapted to the altitude pretty quickly when I moved to Denver, but I never got used to how dry it made my lips. I reach over to the cup holder and pick up the thermos again, twisting off the cap.

Drink.

Nate's stern command fills my head before I can stop it.

“Happy?” I mumble to no one before taking a long sip.

TJ chooses that exact moment to slide back into the truck. “What?”

“Nothing.”

He smiles and shifts the truck into drive. “We’re almost there.”

I settle back into my seat, watching the trees blur together outside my window. The farther we drive, the narrower the road becomes until it’s barely wide enough for two cars to pass.

This family must really value their privacy. I wonder if they’re famous or just incredibly wealthy. TJ said the coordinator he spoke to was pretty tight-lipped about their identity.

We take a few hairpin turns, and a wave of nausea rolls through me, which is weird because I don’t usually get carsick. TJ takes another sharp turn, and the nausea intensifies. Maybe it’s because we’re so high up. I’ve never liked heights.

A rush of heat hits me, and the warm air pouring through the vents suddenly feels like an inferno. I tug off my jacket and toss it onto the back seat.