Page 186 of Silent Shadows

I turn my phone toward the camera. Grant Ridgefield is frozen on my screen mid-livestream. Behind him, one of his guys is watching clips from my podcast. Another has maps open. Another is taking notes.

Maya's smile disappears. "Oh."

"They've been using my coverage to track you."

She shakes her head, figuring as much.

"I've been watching them all week," I say. "And I have an idea."

Maya studies me for a long beat. "Oh no."

"Oh yes."

The Mystery Machine is parked exactly where it was. Like this corner of the universe didn’t have the audacity to keep moving while I was mid-crisis. And thank God for that.

Dust clings to the 4Runner. One camp chair sits crooked outside the Machine’s door. A jacket hangs from the sideview mirror. Faint music drifts from inside. Everything is heartbreakingly normal.

And as it turns out, there’s nothing like normalcy to induce severe nausea. This is fun. My stomach and I are enjoying this. Nerves, what are nerves?

My hands tighten around my bag and I take a deep breath. I may not have loved the Daisy I was on The DL at the end, but the Daisy I always love is Daisy on a mission. So I channel that energy as best as I can.

Woman on a mission. We can panic later.

The RV door swings open before I can overthink my way back into the rental car. Jax freezes in the doorway. Actually freezes. One foot halfway down the steps. A cheese stick hanging out of his mouth.

We stare at each other.

Wind moves softly through the trees.

A crow caws somewhere like even nature knows this is awkward.

Slowly, dramatically, he pulls the cheese stick out.

“…Holy shit.”

“Hey, Jax.”

“Am I hallucinating?”

“Possibly.”

He laughs. “Welcome back?”

“If you’ll have me.”

“You look hotter.”

“Jax.”

“No, seriously. Did you have a post-break-up glow-up?”

I open my mouth and nothing comes out. Of course everyone knows Miles and I were… a thing.

Before I can answer, Taylor appears behind him.

She takes one look at me and stops. Her arms cross automatically. Terrifying, protective woman posture activated. “You came back.” It’s not cold or warm, just fact.

“Yeah,” I say, my throat suddenly very dry. I croak out, “I’m sorry.”