Page 112 of The SEAL and the Sheriff

“Check-in. Status?”

Sarah.

Professional. Calm. As though an hour earlier she hadn’t whispered come back with her hand flat against his chest.

He picked up the handset. “All clear. Making good time. Road’s empty.”

“Copy. Fifteen minutes.”

Three words. He set the handset back into its cradle.

A minute later, the radio clicked over to the convoy channel and another voice broke across the speaker. “How are things up front?”

Owen.

Hudson contemplated the road ahead. “Quiet.”

Static. The ambulance tires hummed over compacted snow.

“So.”

Hudson frowned at the radio. “So what?”

“The sheriff.”

Hudson’s fingers curled against his thigh. “Owen.”

“I’m not saying anything.”

“Good.”

“I’ve never seen you stop scanning a parking lot because a sheriff walked across it.”

Hudson kept his eyes on the road. Snow. Trees. Another sweeping bend disappearing into white.

“How long have you two⁠—”

“It’s not a discussion, Owen.” Hudson checked the side mirrors.

“It’s barely a question.”

Archie shot him a curious glance. Hudson met it just long enough for Archie to decide he didn’t actually want to know.

The silence stretched.

Owen’s voice came back, stripped of the teasing. “Do you know what’s next?”

Sarah barefoot in his shirt, looking at him over the rim of her coffee cup.

“No,” Hudson admitted. “I don’t.”

“Good.” Owen laughed, warm and genuine. “That’s the right answer.” The radio clicked as he signed off. Hudson switched back to Sarah’s channel.

Outside, the road curved and began to climb. But for the first time in years, the destination was less important than the return. The spruce closed overhead until branches brushed the roof of the ambulance with a dry hiss, shedding powder snow across the windshield.

Hudson reached for the handset. “Sarah, we’re approaching the ridge. Signal’s about to drop. Back in fifteen.”

Her reply came through a wash of static. “Copy. Fifteen minutes, Hudson.”