Page 60 of Peaks and Promises

Summer

Reese returned to the motel more relaxed than I’d ever seen him, giving me the impression his reunion with his parents had gone well. He told me his mom was making breakfast, so we needed to go straight to his parents’ place first.

The breakfast part was sweet, and it seemed important to him, so I didn’t argue. But I really wanted to find a place to stay. I hated being homeless.

Checking out of the motel felt ominous. I didn’t like the idea of not knowing where we were going to sleep that night. It made sense to find a place in Tilikum. That was our destination—where we were going to settle down. And hopefully the place where I could finally provide a more stable home for Nate.

With our things loaded in the back of the SUV, we headed out to the highway. I watched the scenery in awe. The road followed a winding river that churned with white, rushing water. Mountain slopes rose up on either side, dotted with determined pine trees clinging to the rock. I’d never been anywhere like it.

My heart fluttered when we passed the Welcome to Tilikum sign. We’d arrived.

The main road led past a large wooden cutout of a squirrel. Flowers bloomed in hanging baskets and the storefronts looked cheerful and welcoming. We passed a large park in the center of town and small knots of people gathered on street corners or wandered up and down the sidewalks.

I twisted to look at Nate. “What do you think?”

He gazed out the window. “Does it snow?”

“Yeah,” Reese answered. “It snows a lot in the winter.”

“Wow,” he breathed.

I appreciated his sense of wonder—he’d never seen snow in real life—but it did make me think of all the things we didn’t have. Warm coats, hats, gloves, boots. What else did you need in a place with cold winters?

One thing at a time. I’d figure it out.

The road led away from the little downtown area, and Reese kept going. We passed a few houses and an intersection that looked like it led to a residential neighborhood. He approached another intersection and oddly, didn’t slow down.

My foot pressed against the floor, as if I could hit the brakes from the passenger side. “Um, Reese? There’s a—”

Before I could say “stop sign,” he drove right through.

“What?” he asked, and his eyes lifted to the rearview. “Oh, shit.”

Blue lights flashed behind us. It was a cop.

“What the hell?” he muttered.

“There was a stop sign,” I said.

“Are you kidding?”

“No, it was right there.”

He shook his head. “That did not used to be there.”

“Are we in trouble?” Nate asked.

“Not really,” I said. “Reese didn’t see the stop sign.”

“And of course a freaking cop was there,” he grumbled, lowering the window as the officer approached. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

The cop wore aviator sunglasses and an army green and khaki uniform with the Tilikum County Sheriff logo on one side of the chest. On the other was his name, and when I read it, I almost gasped.

Haven.

“License and registration, please,” he said.