Page 112 of The Fire Line

Jay’s mouth tilted. “You sound relieved.”

“Ain’t.”

“Sure.”

Harris let the conversation move on and made certain it stayed there.

Within a few minutes Jay was telling him about a shoot in Arizona where a rental car had lost most of its suspension thirty miles from the nearest town. Harris listened, asked the appropriate questions, and gave no indication that his attention kept trying to double back.

Jay topped.

Always, with Miles.

And five years with someone he still cared enough about to keep in his life had ended because caring had not been enough to make two incompatible futures fit.

Two pieces of information Harris had asked for himself.

Both would have been easier not to know.

By the time Jay’s knee settled against his along the couch, Harris had packed both thoughts away somewhere private enough that Jay seemed to notice nothing.

That was where Harris intended to keep them.

19

The Film Wanted You Before I Did

Jay found Harris a little after two beside the old machinery shed, replacing a split hydraulic hose at the tailgate of the work truck. The damaged line lay beside him, slick with oil, and Harris had shoved his sleeves above his elbows, exposing the pale wire scar across one wrist.

“Got a minute?” Jay asked, the folder tucked beneath one arm.

Harris looked up, and his eyes flicked briefly toward the open machinery shed.

Jay knew exactly what conclusion he had reached. “Work minute,” he clarified. “Unfortunately.”

Harris’s eyebrows lifted. “Good clarification.”

The faint disappointment on his face was far too satisfying. Jay set the folder on the tailgate before he could enjoy it enough to become obnoxious.

“We’ve been looking at the structure of the film.”

“Sounds dangerous.”

“Priya has index cards. Things have escalated.”

Harris returned to the hydraulic fitting, but the slight turn of his head told Jay he had his full attention. “Shaw Ranch is still the story. That hasn’t changed. But we’ve figured out where the audience stands inside it.”

Harris glanced over. “Meaning?”

“You.”

The wrench stopped. Harris looked at him properly then, and Jay found confusion where he had expected immediate resistance.

“Why?”

“Because every time we follow one part of the ranch far enough, we end up back with you. Water, cattle, the guest business, succession, fire planning, Nell’s work. You don’t have to explain all of those things. You’re just where they keep intersecting.”

Harris looked toward the pasture, taking that in with the expression of a man who had just been informed of an accounting error he intended to investigate.