“Of course,” I say.
Jenna lifts the phone to her ear, turning slightly away as it rings.
One second.
Five.
Ten.
“Hey,” Jenna says, and my chest goes tight. “It’s me.” She listens. Her eyebrows pull together. “What?”
A muffled burst of sound comes through the phone.
Jenna’s gaze cuts to the ground. “In the back of your car?”
Another burst. The voice on the other end is deep, a rough rumble that carries even three feet away. My shoulders lock.
“Listen,” Jenna says. “There’s someone here who’d like to rent a cabin.”
Jenna does not even get to inhale before her mouth tightens. “I know they’re closed,” she says.
The male voice keeps going.
“I know,” Jenna says. “But she drove all the way out here, and everything else is booked.”
Jenna winces, pulling the phone an inch from her ear as a sharp, metallic clang rattles through the speaker.
“Bram,” she says, her voice dropping. “Just for tonight.”
There is a pause, and for one stupid second, hope climbs up my throat.
Then Jenna’s eyes flick to me. Then Away.
“No,” she says. “I understand.”
She lowers the phone and neither says anything for a beat.
“He said no,” I finally say.
Jenna slides the phone into her back pocket. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay.” The lie comes out automatically.
I take a deep breath, uncurling my fingers one at a time from my purse strap.
“He’s on shift,” Jenna says. “He’s volunteer deputy. And it sounded like he had someone in the back of his cruiser, so—”
“Would—would it be okay if I stayed parked here for a while?” I cut in.
Jenna looks at me.
“Just until I find something, somewhere,” I add. “And if I can’t, maybe I can just... rest in the car for a bit?”
Silence. The wind moves through the trees. A few dry leaves scrape across the gravel between us. “I can’t let you do that,” she finally says.
My stomach hollows out.
“Right,” I say quickly, already stepping back. “No, of course. Sorry. I—I’ll get out of your hair.”
