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A door creaks open across the driveway, and she leans in the barn doorway, her arms crossed. Her hair is wild from tossing and turning all night, and she’s wearing the same blue dress that she peeled off for me yesterday.
Josie watches me load up my gear, her expression unreadable at this distance, and more than anything I want to go to her.
I want to cup the side of her face and tell her it’s going to be okay. Want to unwrap those bandages and check on her poor hands one more time.
“Call me if there are any problems with the Barns.”
Harry yanks the driver’s door open for me. “Sure.”
“And give her hands a salt bath later.”
My nephew snorts. “Get gone, Everett.”
Well, then. The truck dips and settles under my weight, the worn leather seat already warming beneath the rising sun. I toss a peppermint in my mouth before throwing the truck into reverse.
“Be good,” I call at Harry’s retreating back.
Josie’s mouth twists over in the doorway.
This is the right thing. I’m doing the right thing.
But I feel every sickly bump and lurch as I drive away on the winding dirt path.
