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I always thought arrogance made him careless, but maybe it’s confidence. The future doesn’t own his present because he trusts he’s capable of dealing with whatever comes. It’s not that I don’t think I can deal with the outcome, it’s just that I’d rather be prepared.
We make our way back through the forest while I try to ignore the throbbing in my shoulder. The relief was instant when he popped it back in, but it still aches. Lawton stays on guard, scanning the dense pines.
I should be thrilled we found a disturbing amount of human hair pieces, but there’s a twist in my chest that won’t go away every time I think of Bobbi tossing popcorn at me during girls’ night! When she was obsessing over charcuterie boards or going into the gory details of her latest UTI, she made it easy to forget my best friend in New York is a dead Betta fish, but if she’s killing people for fun and shaving their heads to make wigs, that complicates things.
“Do you think Bobbi and Arch are some kind of serial-killing Bonnie and Clyde?” I say, my feet crunching on grass.
“My bet’s on Arch,” he says, chewing on a toothpick. “Swan towels? C’mon. It doesn’t get more performative than that. The guy’s clearly trying to hide something, but they could be tag-teaming.”
By the time we reach the barn, the orange ball of sun is hanging above the snow-capped Tetons, and I’m dizzy from nearly having my shoulder ripped out of its socket. The barn is quiet, just the breeze ringing through the wind chimes. I expect Lawton to kick down the door and call it a day, but he does a quick sweep of the room. The kitchen’s empty except for a half-finished coffee mug that reads Life is Better in a Small Town! And he even checks under the cowhide rug.
“All clear,” he says.
“Aw. Am I rubbing off on you?”
“Hard not to when you make me memorize a What To Do In An Emergency checklist,” he says, leading us into the bathroom. He brushes the fresh eucalyptus aside from the nozzle to turn on the shower.
I step onto the black-and-white penny tiles, breathing hard, and he helps me with the makeshift sling. I might be about to pass out from the fading adrenaline rush, but I still notice the way his chest muscles bunch with the motion.
Nothing’s happened.
I tug my gaze away.
“Thanks,” I say reluctantly. “For helping me.”
He shrugs. “You got me out of listening to Arch drone on about how he met Bobbi on the apps, so win-win.”
I jerk back, then wince at the stab of pain. No jerking, then. “Hold on, what do you mean ‘the apps’?”
“That’s how they met.”
I pinch my brows together, trying to remember. “I could have sworn Bobbi told me they met at the Grand Prismatic Spring. That’s why they got engaged there…”
“Maybe they remember it different,” he says. I’m still mulling it over when he shoves a hand under the stream, testing the water temperature. “Get in.”
“What are you doing?” I ask.
“You smell like sweat and you’re covered in bleach,” he says. “What do you think I’m doing? I’m turning on the shower for you.”
“I’m amazed how you can make a nice gesture sound like an insult.”
“It’s one of my many talents.”
Steam fills the small bathroom. I try to wiggle out of my soaked shirt, but it’s useless. My shoulder might be back where it belongs, but I can’t rotate it enough to peel this thing off without pain lancing through me. And zippers? Forget it. I groan, leaning my forehead against the foggy mirror.
“What’s wrong?” Lawton asks, concern etched in his frown.
I lift my head, and our eyes connect in the reflection. “I need help.”
His brows crease. “With what?”
I bring myself to say it. “Showering. I can’t… do the zipper.”
His throat bobs, and that annoying muscle that really isn’t annoying flutters in his jaw. I don’t know what I expect him to say, but it’s not a simple nod of his head.
“Okay,” he says.
No teasing. Just one word that slices through my cracks. It’s like he knows how much I hate asking for help, how out of control it makes me feel.
