Page 39 of Saddle Storm

“Hey, you mind if I drive your truck back to the ranch tonight? I’ll fill her up for you and pick you both up in the morning.”

My eyes drop to his arm.

He stretches it as if to show it’s mobile. “I’m fine. Promise.”

I chew on my bottom lip. “I . . . don’t know. Max needs to be at school early and it’s a good twenty-five minutes from here.”

“I know,” he assures softly. “I’ll be here.”

“All right.” I agree, because if he doesn’t take my car tonight, I’d need to park this thing on the other side of the highway and risk being ticketed in the morning.

He nods and we both hop out of my truck. “Which one are you?” he asks, opening Max’s door.

I faintly hear an exchange on the other side of the car when Max points up to our window and our apartment number.

My breath catches when he starts toward the building with us and I grab his arm. “Silas.”

He turns, his eyes dropping to my hand as he steps closer. “Storm, I’m walking you to your door,” he says flatly.

“There’s no need. We’re good. I promise.”

He glances back, licking his lips. “Then I’ll wait down here until I see a light turn on.”

I release a breath. “Thank you. And thank you for dinner. Max . . . needed that.”

He keeps his eyes on me. “I did too.”

A slow familiar ease settles in my stomach as I let him hold my gaze. If this was closure, then maybe I needed it too.

“Fine.” I exhale and hold out my hand in a truce. “I’m officially no longer bitter for you ghosting me in high school.”

He laughs. “I’m glad.” Then he takes my hand, pulling me in close. “But I call bullshit.”

“What?” I breathe, conscious of Max a few feet away.

“Think you and I both know it’s going to take a little more than wings and a cheap Polaroid camera Max got with his tickets before we get there.”

“Well, then I’m letting you off easy.” I glance at his arm. “Besides, not much more you can do in four weeks.” I can hear the challenge in my voice and I wonder how intentional it was.

His easy grin disappears but I don’t feel bad.

Because we both know when that clock strikes, we’ll all be seeing the smoke in his wake.

13

I order two coffees and a hot chocolate at a deli not far from Storm’s address.

I drove home last night fuming because it took everything in me not to ask Storm why she’s living in a building that should have been torn down and remodeled a decade ago.

When I left town, her and her dad were living in a townhouse in Blue River Springs, just off Main Street. I never visited but we all just knew where everyone lived.

I tried bothering Wilder about it last night but he was in full-blown wedding chaos with Rose, and there was no way I was calling Dallas.

My phone rings as I settle back into my car with the drinks and breakfast to-go. I didn’t bother putting Storm’s truck through the wear of going all around town this morning, so I’m picking them up in my car. Still filled up her tank like I said I would.

I answer on the third ring. “Hey.”

“You left early this morning,” Wilder notes.