When we finally pulled away, the hurt was still there.
“I’ll drive you,” she choked out through her tears.
“I called Mason. He should be here after his delivery to Jones.”
She lifted her chin. “You’re not a parts order, Austin. I’m taking you to the airport.”
I didn’t argue again. You learn, after enough firefights and family dinners, which hills are worth dying on.
We loaded the duffel into the back of the truck. Inspector watched from the porch rail. I was going to miss the cat. The goats bleated at the fence line. The new barn gleamed in the distance, catching what little light there was.
Milly slid behind the wheel. I took the passenger seat, which felt wrong already. She always rode shotgun. We were messing with the order of things.
The heater wheezed to life. She backed down the drive, tires crunching over packed snow. We rode in silence until Everwood’s main street unfurled ahead. Last night’s snow was piled at the curb.
Sue’s SUV was parked in front of the library. Mason’s truck sat outside the hardware store.
“They’ll miss you,” Milly said suddenly.
“Who?”
“The town,” she said. “Mason. Cassie. Levi.”
We passed the sign for the county airport turnoff, and my chest tightened. I took a deep breath. In all the years I’d served, there had always been a little fear. That fear keeps you alive, but the knot in my chest felt more like an ending than the mission ahead.
“How’s your arm?” she asked, eyes on the road.
“Doesn’t like the cold much.” I smiled at that, but it faded quickly.
“You could stay,” she said at last. “You know that, right?”
I smiled and nodded, not trusting my voice.
Her fingers tightened on the steering wheel.
The little terminal building huddled under inches of snow. Its glass doors fogged from the heat inside. A couple of trucks sat in the parking lot. There were no big crowds and no lines. Just a short hop to Denver and a life I wasn’t sure I wanted anymore.
Milly pulled into the drop-off lane and put the truck in park. The engine idled, humming low.
“Well,” she said.
“Yeah,” I said.
Words had never been less helpful.
I unbuckled, then hesitated. “You know you can call or text me anytime, no matter the hour, right?”
“You’ll answer my messages,” she asked sarcastically, trying to lighten the mood.
I wanted to reach for her, but I was afraid it would dissolve my resolve. Milly didn’t tell me I could stay until I booked the flight. For days, we’d walked in silence. Until this morning, she hadn’t asked me to stay. But was that out of fear, or love?
She leaned across the console and took my hand. Her scent filled the truck, coffee, hay, and whatever soap lived in the upstairs bathroom. I memorized it, knowing I might not ever smell it again.
“Be safe,” she said through sobs.
“You too,” I said. “Watch the ice near the north pasture gate. It gets slick.”
Her eyes shone, but she kept her chin up. “Go on. Before I decide to block the curb and cause a scene.”
