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She had everything she’d wanted two years ago—in addition to some other problems she hadn’t anticipated, but no one was perfect.

“No, it’s not.”

She snorted a laugh. Saint was always so sure of himself. She needed to borrow some of that.

Kristi had thought Nico’d let her quit too easily and with the money in her account—a year’s pay—she was starting to wonder the same thing. Maybe he’d been clouded by grief. Maybe it wasn’t that much money to him.

She’d set up news alerts to find out if he would be arrested again, because of the spreadsheet. If it would even help.

Her hand moved to her pocket, but her phone was in the glove box where it had been since they’d left the city. No one could reach her. No one could expect her to reply. She’d told everyone they were going camping and World War Three could break out and she wouldn’t know.

Her mother had said she deserved a vacation and asked when they were coming to Florida. Again.

She let out a breath and sunk into the mattress further.

They were on public lands, not owned by anyone—the logging roads were open access, as long as you stayed out of the way, and Saint had a radio in his truck that picked up the road channel.

They were completely off the grid, and instead of the isolation she’d been concerned about, she felt free.

And that felt like a bigger deal than it had before.

“I’m glad I did it.”

Her words disrupted the soft whir of crickets, and it took a moment for them to resume.

“Are you?” Saint’s voice was soft, and Riley smoothed her finger over the furrow in his brow.

“No, but it was the right thing to do. Even if it goes nowhere and Nico walks out again. At least I know who I am. I’d like to have not been involved with anything illegal, even if money-laundering doesn’t hurt anyone. But the money had to come from somewhere.”

Saint nodded. “Aaron thinks he’s laundering for the club.”

“Great.”

He held her closer.

She’d indirectly aided and abetted bikers who moved weapons and drugs and god knew what else.

Wonderful.

But she was fixing it. She’d pay attention and have a normal job from now on. She knew who she was.

More stars came out, and maybe even a planet or two.

“I’m going to apply for that master’s program at Cascadia U. The counselling one.”

Kristi had sent her the application package one evening with no other context, just the link, and it was just the push she needed.

Saint squeezed her. “All your future clients will be grateful you’re doing it.”

Riley blinked as a single tear ran down her nose, but she didn’t wipe it. It soaked into Saint’s t-shirt and faded away.

“I hope so.”

“They will.”

They lay like that for a long time, each lost in thought as the moon rose over the mountains behind them.

“I think it’s going to be okay,” she said. “Like, with Nico and the Eighty-Sixers and everything.” With Kristi.