I turned toward the side window and watched the trees blur past.
For a while, neither of us spoke.
The pickup descended toward the paved county road. Insects flashed gold in the headlight beam. The mountain air began to cool, sliding through the vents with dust and pine and the faint scent of Dex from the driver’s seat. My stomach growled once, loud enough to betray me.
Dex reached behind the console without looking and pulled out a sealed bottle of water. He set it in the cup holder closest to me.
My cuffed hands rested in my lap.
I looked at the bottle. Then at him.
He exhaled through his nose and twisted the cap loose before handing it over.
“I’m still not telling you my birthday,” I said.
“I’ll struggle through.”
I drank because refusing water to prove a point was amateur hour. The water was warm, but it hit my throat like grace. I took three swallows, capped it awkwardly, and set it back.
“Thank you,” I said.
Dex nodded once.
Kindness from the wrong man could still get under the skin.
The paved road appeared through the trees, a pale stripe cutting across the mountain. Left led back toward Whispering Pines, with its storefronts and people and the illusion of safety. Right led toward the larger towns, court schedules, bonds offices, locked rooms, and men asking questions Crystal couldn’t survive.
Dex slowed at the intersection.
A reckless thought flashed through me: throwing myself across the console and grabbing the wheel. The cuffs would make it clumsy. He’d stop me before I got both hands on it. We’d crash if he didn’t. Crystal didn’t need me dead in a ditch. She needed me mean, breathing, and patient.
Dex turned right.
Away from town.
My cuffs clicked softly as I shifted my wrists.
“Comfortable?” he asked.
“Wildly. I’m thinking of asking for your supervisor so I can compliment the accommodations.”
“You do that.”
“I’m still taking off points for the cuffs.”
“You tried to run.”
“And you took that personally.”
“I took it literally.”
Despite myself, I huffed out one small laugh.
Dex’s gaze cut to me, then back to the road.
The truck picked up speed.
The seat belt held me to the passenger seat. The cuffs linked my wrists in my lap. Dex drove with one hand on the wheel and the other near the gearshift, close enough that I remembered his grip around my wrist.
