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She struggles to open the door with all the bags she’s carrying, so I round the vehicle and grab the door handle at the same time that Charlee sets her stuff down and reaches for it too. Her hand lands on mine, and the touch shoots a spark up my arm. She jerks back as if she too felt the jolt. Or perhaps she just can’t handle contact with me. Either way, her hand is gone, and only the aftermath lingering on my skin is proof that it used to be there.

“I got it,” she quips, low and cold.

“I’ll put your stuff in the truck bed, then.”

“Fine.”

I grab her backpack and suitcase. Fine. The same word she used when she said she’d stay with me. So much contempt in such a small word. I shake my head. I knew she had some fire in her, but I didn’t expect it to burn this hot.

I load her luggage into the truck bed and shut the hatch, then settle behind the wheel. I spare a glance her way, but I’m met with a mass of wavy auburn hair.

I sigh, turning the engine on and putting the gear in reverse. If that’s how she wants to play it, fine. I let out a bitter chuckle. There’s that word again.

“What’s so funny?”

“Nothing,” I reply, doing my best to sound as unaffected as I can, despite every nerve ending in my body being aware of her proximity. “I was just thinking about something.”

Charlee sinks deeper into her seat, her body angled toward the passenger door. “Care to share?”

My eyebrow rises, but I control my surprise before she gets a chance to see it.

I shrug. “It’s nothing, really.”

Charlee mumbles something I can’t hear and goes back to the silent treatment, looking out the window. The warmth coming from the heater starts to melt the icy space between us, and I relax my fingers around the wheel, settling my focus on the steady rhythm of the highway.

For the next two and a half hours, only the radio playing nineties rock music fills the silence in the car. Charlee doesn’t move from her position: legs tucked underneath her, her body turned completely toward her door. At some point, her breathing changes, growing slower until she exhales deeply.

She’s sleeping. At least the silence is less awkward now than it was when she was openly brooding.

God, what am I going to do with her?

She seems so . . . stubborn.

She wasn’t as hardheaded or closed-off before, even if a part of her enjoyed being in her own bubble back then. I don’t know where this toughened-up side of her is coming from, whether I played a part in fortifying her defenses, or if other moments in life have shaped her this way. Whatever the reason, the next time I want to attempt a conversation with her, I’d better be armed to the teeth and ready with a battle plan. Otherwise, she’ll never let me past her guard, and I’ll never be able to explain to her what happened on June 21, 2018.

“Charlee.”

I lay my hand on her arm, squeezing it lightly. She stirs, groaning as she frees her arm from my hold. A second later, she’s back to her soft snores.

I shake my head, a smile stretching my lips for the first time since I’ve been in her presence. Even asleep, she’s a little grump.

“Charlee,” I say again.

This time, I shake her with a little more force.

She opens her eyes slowly, then looks around, frowning. She removes her arm from under my hand like a feral cat about to get caught and crawling out of reach.

“How long was I out?” Sleep clings to her voice, giving her a soft, soothing edge. Such a contrast to earlier. It leaves me breathless, begging for more. This is the voice I imagined her having when I used to think of her. Being able to hear it outside of my fantasies sends my heart tumbling in my chest. It takes me a second to remember she asked me a question.

“Almost the whole ride,” I manage to get out. I glance through the windshield at the sun starting its descent below the horizon. We’re in Pine Falls, parked on the street in front of Lola’s boutique. “I need to make a quick stop. Do you mind?”

Charlee shakes her head and grabs her phone. I gather this will be her only answer.

As soon as my feet hit the ground and I slam the truck door shut, I inhale fresh air, and my chest expands for the first time in three hours. I allow myself a few seconds of respite before heading into Lola’s store.

The doorbells chime when I walk inside One Last Chapter.

“We’re closed!” Lola shouts from the back, probably finishing some last-minute paperwork for the day.