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“Well, if you need me to talk to him, I will. But I’m trying to stay out of your business.”
I swing around to give him a look, not an unkind one. “Not trying all that hard.”
He shrugs, jaw ticking.
“Sabrina’s worried,” I guess.
He shrugs again. “I don’t know if worried is the right word. Maybe she would have preferred if you’d picked someone else.”
“Well, that’s rich. You’re not exactly an uncomplicated option.”
“I get it,” he amends.
Turning, I fix my gaze on the road. “I didn’t pick him, anyway. He’s not someone who’s good for my future, so I made the choice to spend a few days together and…you know, get things out of our systems.”
Coen’s silent.
“I mean it,” I say firmly.
“I believe you,” he says, but not convincingly.
We don’t speak again until we stop at a gas station. I pick out some snacks while Coen pours the largest black coffee he can get and finds a pack of jerky. He pays for everything, and I skirt back to the passenger seat and let him fill the gas. When he returns, he slams the door and starts coughing, hitting his chest.
“God, it’s dusty as fuck out here,” he says, clearing his throat hard.
I glance sideways at him. Maybe I don’t want a man; he’s as loud as my dad, and I doubt Jamie is any better.
“Alright,” he says, adjusting the rearview mirror and slapping this high. “Let’s get going.”
My mind drifts as we get on the highway again. If they decide to have kids, he’d make a really good dad. Sabrina would be an amazing mother, and our mom would be the best grandmother. Hell, even my dad would be pretty good at the grandparent thing. The longer Coen and Sabrina are together, the more they’re turning into a stereotype of an old married couple. In the best way possible.
“How long until we’re home?” I ask.
“About an hour,” he says. “Not too bad.”
He flicks the cruise control on and settles back, reaching for the radio. I curl up and pull my hood over my head.
“I’m exhausted,” I sigh. “If you don’t care, I’m gonna crash for a bit.”
“Go right ahead,” he says, taking a drink of coffee.
I close my eyes, and I’m out in seconds. Being back in Wyoming puts a mental wall between him and me. It feels like I’m sleeping for hours when I wake to a hand on my shoulder, giving me a little shake. Startled, I sit upright and blink.
Where am I?
“Jamie?”
The word slips out a half second before I remember where I am.
Silence.
“I don’t know if you’re as over it as you’re saying,” comes Coen’s lightly amused voice.
“God, shut up,” I grumble, sliding out of the passenger side.
“I’m just pointing out the obvious,” he calls, as I grab my bag from the car and drag it across the gravel.
He catches up with me, pulling open the door. The dogs appear in the hall, shoving their faces into my hands and bouncing up and down. The house is otherwise quiet. I was expecting it to be. I’m sure Sabrina couldn’t get herself to stay up this far past midnight, and I don’t blame her. Coen says goodnight and heads upstairs. I only brought my carry-on back, so I don’t need help with luggage.
