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“Not yet, Court. You don’t have to tell him yet.”
His grip around me tightened, a silent oath of unwavering support. With that, I allowed myself to drift off into the realm of sleep, our intertwined forms a testament to the bond we shared.
Chapter Eight
Brad
The first light of dawn was just starting to peek over the horizon as we pulled out of the ranch's driveway. The old Ford work truck rumbled beneath us, a steady reminder of the work-worn hands that had driven it before. In the side mirror, I caught sight of Jedediah, his tall figure illuminated by the ranch's porch light. He was waving us off, a genuine smile on his face.
"Don't worry about the truck, kids!" he had called out just before we left. "I'll take a bus to Laramie and get it once you two are done with it. Just focus on what you gotta do."
Courtney was driving us and had a confident grip on the wheel, suggesting she had driven on ranch roads many times before.
"Are you sure we shouldn't tell the others?" Courtney asked, her voice barely above the hum of the engine. She cast a quick glance my way, her brows knitted in concern. Her eyes were the same intense blue as the predawn sky, clouded with uncertainty.
"It's too risky," I said. "If Tyree knew what we were up to, it might put the Rosedale crew in danger. So, I think it's best we don't," I replied. "We don't have all the facts yet, and I don't want to cause unnecessary worry. Plus, Giuseppe has a knack for making mountains out of molehills."
At this, Courtney let out a laugh, a sound so infectious I found myself grinning. "Giuseppe?" she said, incredulous. "Are we talking about the same guy? The man who sorted out the mess we were in and set on the path to solving the Rosedale case?"
"Okay, okay," I conceded, chuckling. "Maybe that's a bit of an exaggeration. But you have to admit, he's not exactly one to shy away from a dramatic moment."
"No, he's not," she agreed, her smile lingering. "But I get the feeling you're trying to downplay things, Brad. Are you sure you're not the one making molehills out of mountains?"
She gave me a pointed look, her eyes dancing with amusement. It was a fair question. I had a tendency to downplay issues to keep the peace. But this wasn't a time for half-truths.
"Maybe," I admitted, my gaze meeting hers. "But we have to stay focused, Court. And getting everyone riled up isn't going to help."
She considered this for a moment, then nodded. "Alright, Brad," she said, her voice steady, "I trust you."
Hearing her say those words filled me with a sense of responsibility. I looked at her, her profile outlined against the slowly brightening sky, and felt a surge of admiration. She was strong, resilient, and incredibly brave. And she trusted me to help navigate this crisis. I wasn't going to let her down.
We continued down the road in companionable silence, each lost in our thoughts. The sun was starting to rise now, casting long shadows across the Wyoming landscape. I glanced at Courtney again, taking in the determined set of her jaw.
A new day was beginning, a new chapter in our lives. As we drove toward Laramie, I couldn't help but feel a strange sense of anticipation. We were heading into the unknown, but we were doing it together. And somehow, that made everything seem a little less daunting.
Navigating through the heart of Laramie, we found ourselves outside a building that was all too familiar, even if it was thousands of miles from my alma mater—the co-ed dorm apartments.
As Courtney parked the old Ford, the sight of the dormitory stirred a sense of nostalgia within me. I glanced over at Courtney, who was watching me with a twinkling curiosity in her eyes.
"Feel like you're back at Berkeley?" she asked, a playful smile on her lips.
"Honestly, it's a bit like stepping into a parallel universe," I chuckled. "Berkeley, it's all about redwoods and artsy murals while here it's open plains and cowboy boots. But the essence? It's uncanny how similar it is."
The doors of the dorm building swung open; the scent of cleaning products mingled with the ghost of thousands of instant noodle packets was like a time machine, whisking me back to my own university days.
Berkeley had been a whirlwind of late-night study sessions, impromptu football games, and passionate debates that lasted till dawn. Back then, I was just another face in the crowd, another hopeful spirit with dreams too large for my own good.
I remembered my roommate Clint, always buried in his books, his glasses sliding down his nose as he furiously scribbled notes. I shook my head, a wry smile on my face. That was until I moved into the fraternity house with the other guys that would later become my colleagues, leaving Clint to rent an apartment. He wasn't the frat boy type. The irony wasn't lost on me.
Here I was, years later, back in a dorm, this time not as a student but as a protector, friend, and lover. The roles had reversed, but the sense of camaraderie, the shared laughter, and the undercurrent of tension as assignments piled up and the chicks came and went was all too familiar.
I heard laughing, and two figures emerged. I figured it was Jenna, Courtney’s roommate, and Dylan, who I had met at Mitch and Amy's wedding, sprinting toward us.
"Dylan?" I exclaimed, stepping forward to shake his hand. "When did you enroll at the university?"
Dylan flashed a sheepish grin and turned to Jenna, "Giuseppe hired me to keep an eye on you girls," he admitted, offering a casual shrug.
"Wait," Jenna interjected, her eyes wide. "So, all this time, you weren't really into me? Were you just doing your job? Who's Giuseppe?"
