Page 6

If I had, I might have changed my mind.

I turned into the parking lot and backed my truck into a space near the porch. Max stood before I switched off the engine.

“Stay.”

He sat.

“You’re enjoying this.”

His mouth opened in what looked too much like a grin.

I climbed out and stared at the tavern.

Music drifted through the open windows. Someone laughed inside. Glasses clinked, chairs scraped across the floor, and the smell of grilled onions reached me from the kitchen.

It smelled like a business.

It sounded like a home.

I opened Max’s door.

He jumped down and took his place beside my left leg.

“All right,” I said. “Let’s find out if they remember us.”

The front door opened before I reached the porch.

Wolf stepped outside.

He stopped.

I stopped.

For several seconds, neither of us said anything.

Wyatt “Wolf” Maddox had more gray at the temples in his hair than the last time I saw him. His shoulders were still broad, his eyes still sharp, and he still looked like he could make a room fall silent by walking into it.

His gaze moved from me to Max and then to the truck packed with everything I owned.

“You got lost?” he asked.

“Several times.”

“You need directions?”

“I found the place.”

“That remains to be seen.”

The door opened behind him.

Trigger stepped onto the porch carrying a tray of empty glasses.

He looked at me.

The tray slipped out of his hands.

Glasses shattered across the boards.