“I’d love that. Thank you.” Heat spread from her cheeks,everywhere.
“Come on.” He released her hand, but his eyes stayed on her face. “My brother Ryder’s giving us a ride.”
Wyatt’s brotherRyder met them in the lobby. He pulled Wyatt into a brief hug, then turned and hugged her too. The contact startled her—and then, unexpectedly, calmed her. Comfort from a stranger, but it counted.
Ryder released her, and his attention shifted back to Wyatt. “I just heard from Sarah. One of the SEAL platoons was already running a training op out of Kodiak—they were airborne whenthe alert went up. Shaved almost two hours off the response time.”
“Our sister Sarah is sheriff,” Wyatt explained.
Oh.“I saw her grilling the FBI?—”
“Sounds about right.” Ryder grinned. “Akilov is in federal custody. You two did good.”
Wyatt’s hand found the small of her back. “It’s over.”
Jen tried to believe it.
It’s over.
“Come on,” Ryder said. “Let’s get you out of this place.”
His truck was large, ancient and roomy. Strapped into the back seat was a pink princess car seat, a small stuffed unicorn wedged in the cup holder.
Ryder caught her looking as he helped her up into the cab and grinned. “My Ellie’s three, going on thirty-five.”
Twelve hours ago she’d been fighting to stay alive. Now, a stuffed unicorn stared at her with glittery plastic eyes. The world was absurd.
Wyatt climbed up next to her while Ryder swung into the driver’s seat.
Jen found herself in the middle of the bench, pressed between the two brothers. Wyatt’s shoulder bumped hers, the heat of him seeping through the thin hospital scrubs.
“So, hotel, then your place, Wyatt?” Ryder glanced at his brother.
“No, just my place.”
A beat.
“Okay.” Ryder started the engine. It sputtered several times before catching.
“This truck is a hazard.” Wyatt pointed to the check engine light glowing cheerfully on the dashboard.
Ryder patted the dash affectionately. “It’s got character. Your Volvo’s a bore.”
“It’s reliable.” Wyatt sighed as they swung out of the parking lot past patrol cars, blue lights bleeding into the night.
“It’s Swedish and judgey.” Ryder’s headlights sliced through the darkness. “All that safety. It’s like driving a therapist.”
“The Volvo has excellent crash-test ratings.”
“Of course it does.” Ryder made eye contact with Jen. His eyes crinkled at the corners with warmth. “Don’t let him fool you. He alphabetizes his glove box.”
“I do not.”
“You absolutely do.”
Jen bit back a smile. The normalcy of it—two brothers giving each other shit—felt surreal after the rig. After gunfire and explosions and dark, hungry water.
“How’s Ivy?” Wyatt asked.
