I had to be honest—I didn’t think my 442 would still be here. And it added yet another layer of confusion where Maggie was concerned. I’d spent two days believing she was innocent, and then four years convinced she was some kind of professional scam artist. And now, after only a day and a half, I had no idea what to think.

The fact that she hadn’t sold it for parts left my head spinning. And if I allowed myself to think too much about her motives, or question why she hadn’t done what any other criminal would do, I began to soften where she was concerned. I couldn’t let that happen. Regardless of her reasons—which might’ve even been legitimate—I didn’t care to go down that road with her again. Whether her intentions had been good or bad, it didn’t change the outcome. And for that, I refused to let her back in.

So, I did the only thing I could to keep my mind off her.

I worked on getting the 442 on the bed of the tow truck.

Less than five minutes in, and movement on the dock caught my eye. I turned toward the lake in time to see Maggie remove her jacket and absentmindedly drop it behind her. Not sure what she was doing, I watched and waited. She didn’t slow her gait as she moved down the wooden path, and I couldn’t tear my eyes away from her. My feet began to move before I even knew what was happening. Walking normally as if taking a stroll down the street, she headed for the end. I picked up my pace, my heart pounding unforgivingly in my chest.

Time shifted into first gear, and everything seemed to unravel like it was in slow motion. My steps felt sluggish, like I was in quicksand; my pulse echoed in my ears, and my throat tightened until I couldn’t even swallow. And still, Maggie continued her plight toward the edge. It was eerie if nothing else. The way she stared straight ahead, as if looking at something miles away. Not once did she glance down at her feet, or even the water.

And then she took the final step.

She didn’t jump. There was no hesitation or moment of doubt. She just walked straight off the end, as if she expected to walk on the lake’s surface—the entire time, her focus never wavering from somewhere in the distance.

By the time I made it to her, she was gone. There was barely a ripple on the murky pool, let alone air bubbles to indicate where she was. It was November, and although the Florida sun did a great job warming the day, I wasn’t sure it had sufficiently heated the water enough for a swim.

I jumped in without consideration for the frigid temperatures, frantic and already short of breath. Luckily, I managed to find her on the first try and pulled her by the arm toward safety. She fought me all the way up. Not bothering to find the ladder, I hauled her to the shore, which had been overtaken by weeds. There was more than likely bugs and insects—as well as snakes—hiding in there, but I didn’t let that stop me. I already had to contend with Maggie’s feistiness, so a bear could’ve been lurking in the grass and it wouldn’t have fazed me.

“What the hell is wrong with you? What were you doing jumping into the lake like that?” I dragged her into the yard and held onto her shoulders, forcing her to look at me. “The water is cold and you’re in your clothes.”

Even with adrenaline coursing through my veins, I couldn’t ignore the chill cutting through my body every time a breeze ran through my wet shirt. She felt it, too. Her teeth rattled together and her lips had begun to turn blue. The change in her coloring highlighted a scar I hadn’t noticed that ran down the right side of her cheek, past her jawline. It stood out against her ghostly skin. It was darker than her lips—more purple. I couldn’t help but question if it had been there before, or if she’d sustained it after our night in Mississippi.

Regardless, this was not the time to ask.

She slapped her palms against my chest and attempted to shove me away. Except I wouldn’t budge, which only pissed her off more. She contorted her body to push and twist, trying to escape my hold, the entire time screaming for me to let her go. Finally, I released her when we reached the house.

“Don’t pretend like you give a shit, Talon.” Deep sadness clung to her voice when she pushed the door open and walked inside. She had been upset a few minutes ago after realizing her mother wasn’t here; still, the way she directed her hatred at me made it seem as if she believed it was all my fault.

Ignoring her, I quickly grabbed a blanket off a chair, unfolded it, and attempted to wrap it around her shivering body. I should’ve known she wouldn’t even make that easy for me. Maggie’s erratic actions should’ve worried me, yet they only left me irritated.

“I don’t understand,” she continued, almost in tears.

“Well, that makes two of us.”

Seconds away from tossing the blanket at her, I decided to try one more time to turn her around. I grabbed her upper arm, not even attempting to be gentle, and swung her in a semi-circle until she faced away from me. Her wet hair, that had clung to her shirt and skin, whipped to one side.

And I froze.

On the back of her left shoulder was a tattoo, but not of just any design. What looked to be a realistic depiction of a bird’s claws dug into the muscle just above her shoulder blade. The shading was unbelievable, making it look like they had ripped part of her skin off. And when I moved her hair out of the way, I found the same pattern on the right side, too. The two weren’t identical, which only created a more convincing picture.

As soon as I ran my fingertip over it, she stepped away and turned around. I moved closer, still unable to speak, and noticed that more ink peeked out from beneath her shirt just above her collarbone on both sides. Just one nail, dug into the flesh like the others. Putting the full image together, a massive bird captured her on either side of her neck. I was in awe of the talent it had taken to make it look so lifelike and three dimensional. Not only that, I was stunned by what it could’ve possibly meant.

“Maggie…” My voice gave out, making her name sound desperate on my lips.

She didn’t care. She ripped the blanket out of my hand and draped it over her shoulders, covering the artwork that had stolen my attention—as well as my breath. I wanted to say so much, ask the questions that riddled my mind, yet I couldn’t do anything other than watch her leave the room. I didn’t have a clue where she was going, and for some reason, my feet refused to follow her. I simply stood there, letting her walk away from me, all the while, my every thought revolving around her tattoo.

Snapping out of it, I stormed out the back door, stomping my way to the truck. The cold cut through me, and I desperately needed to change clothes. Except we were running out of daylight and I needed to get my car hooked to the wench. So rather than think about the wet clothes clinging to my skin or the cool weather surrounding me, I focused on the task at hand, hoping to get it done before dusk.

It shouldn’t have taken as long as it did, but it wasn’t an easy task to do while shivering every time a breeze blew past. Luckily, I managed to get it done and the door to the shed closed without any further incident.

I contemplated leaving the truck where it was, in front of the garage. It was in the rear corner of the lot and away from view of the road, which would keep neighbors from questioning who was here. Unfortunately, it wouldn’t keep the people who’d been staying at the house from coming home. And in the end, I decided that was more important than not getting noticed. If need be, I was sure Maggie could have her uncle explain the situation if anyone bothered to report a suspicious vehicle.

After grabbing our bags from the floorboard—leaving her jacket that I had picked up from the dock in the passenger seat—I got out and locked the doors. I hadn’t taken two steps before an older man walking his dog stopped in front of the house. He eyed me for a second, then began to lead his German shepherd down the dirt drive. My initial reaction was to turn away from this man, ignore him, and go inside. I didn’t, because that would only make his suspicions worse.

“Hey there,” he called out when he’d gotten about twenty feet away.

“How are you?” I figured being friendly could go a long way.

He noticed the bags in my hand, then regarded the house with interest, and my chest constricted. Yet when his eyes returned to me, they didn’t appear to be menacing, or even fearful. If anything, he seemed curious. Friendly.

“You here with Mr. Falkner?”

I shook my head…then realized what I’d just done. If I changed my answer, he’d be on the phone with the authorities in less than two minutes. So, I had to stick with my original response and hope this didn’t end with me in handcuffs…again.

When he began to flick his gaze around the yard, I could tell he was apprehensive, so I decided to con him like the low-life everyone thought I was. “No, sir. He didn’t come with me. His car”—I hitched my thumb over my shoulder to the Oldsmobile hooked to the truck—“doesn’t run, so he needed it towed.”

“Oh.” He laughed—and I was able to breathe. “Mr. Falkner only comes once a month, and he was just here like maybe two weeks ago, so I was a little confused when I saw someone here.”

This would’ve been a fantastic opportunity to learn as much as I could about this Falkner guy; except I was supposed to know who he was, it could potentially blow up in my face. So I chose to keep my questions to myself and just be thankful that I wouldn’t have to worry about anyone popping in before we left in the morning.

“That’s certainly nice of you to be checking up on the house while he’s away.” I smiled and took a step back, hoping he got the hint. Which he did. He waved, and without another word, he tugged on the leash and headed up the driveway to the road.

* * *

Maggie was nowhere to be found when I came inside. Unless she still had clothes here, I couldn’t imagine she’d changed out of the ones she’d taken an unseasonal dip in. Then again, everything about her seemed to be a surprise. She could’ve found something in one of the closets or dressers and took off on foot. If that were the case, I would never find her.

I had my car, and she hadn’t taken the tow truck, so I shouldn’t have cared if she vanished. After all, I didn’t need her for anything else…yet I couldn’t ignore the uneasiness in the pit of my stomach at the possibility of her being gone.

Needing to locate her, I headed in the direction she had disappeared before I’d gone outside. There were two doors, both closed. I assumed one led to the real garage, so I knocked on the other and immediately heard, “Go away.”

I tried the knob, twisting it and finding it unlocked. When I opened the door, I discovered her on the floor, wrapped in a towel. Water dripped from the showerhead. The sound of each drop hitting the tile echoed throughout the small space.

She pulled her head back, resting it against the wall behind her, and then turned her gaze to me. Sorrow filled every pore from her hairline to her chin. Her eyes were dejected and despondent, so unbelievably sad, and her lips sloped downward into a defeated frown. It gutted me, and it took far too long to rein in my concern. I had to tell myself that this was how she was—manipulative. Yet I wasn’t sure I believed that anymore.

I dropped her bag on the floor next to her. “Here’s your clothes. You should change.”

She nodded and pulled her belongings closer. “Where are we going?”

“I figured it’d be best if we just stay the night and leave in the morning. It’s almost dark, and I’ve been driving all day. I’m exhausted.”

Her eyes grew wide, fear deepening the color until they were closer to sapphires than the sky. “We can’t stay here. What if they come back?”

“They won’t.” And with that, I left her in the bathroom to change, setting my own bag near the door for when she finished. I needed a hot shower and prayed she hadn’t drained the water heater.

When Maggie finally exited the bathroom, she had on those same black pants as before, but this time, she didn’t have her jacket. And it gave me a good view of her figure. I’d been too distracted after her swim to take notice…now, I had a hard time looking away.

“My jacket is outside,” she grumbled, calling my thoughts away from her body.

I wasn’t stupid. If she were aware I’d grabbed it and put it in the truck, she’d cover herself. Granted, that would’ve saved me some serious sexual frustration, but I refused to let it happen until I had a chance to discuss her tattoo.

“It’s dark; you can get it tomorrow. I’ve already locked all the doors and checked all the windows.” I grabbed my duffel off the floor and closed myself off in the bathroom, not giving her the chance to respond—or argue.

I was convinced Maggie had lost the ability to have a normal conversation. Either she was a master of manipulation and an incredible actress, or the last four years of her life had been comparable to mine. It would’ve been easy to ask, yet that would mean I could potentially open myself up to have her play me again. Although, the longer I was around her, the more I began to doubt everything.

Meeting her.

Her leaving.

Finding her again.

Nothing made sense, and just like the water swirling around the drain between my feet, my thoughts spun in circles, going nowhere. There was a deep desire to understand her, figure her out—grasp some sort of explanation for everything that happened. And then there was my anger, shoving down those needs in a vain attempt to save myself the trouble later.

My mind became as murky as the water in the lake—wondering if obtaining answers would alleviate the headache or release the pressure that had sat on my chest since that cold October night in Mississippi.

I stood beneath the spray in the shower, letting the hot water run down my body to thaw out the chill that ran bone deep. Maybe if I started from the beginning and ran through all the information I had, I’d either figure it out on my own or, at the very least, narrow down my field of questions to ask her later.

The night we met, I’d gone into the convenience store after filling my tank at the pump outside. At the time, I hadn’t made the decision to run, though I figured it would be best to have a full tank of gas in the event I chose to skip town. I’d just come from the restroom and was too stuck in my own misery to notice her coming inside. That was, until she got closer, head down and eyes trained on the floor beneath her feet. I’d stopped walking, and for whatever reason, didn’t move out of her way, even when there was no doubt she’d run into me.

After I’d caught her, keeping her from falling over, she lifted her gaze, and in that one split second—right before I’d taken notice of the blood—my whole world changed. I wasn’t aware of it at the time, but those eyes would deceive me.

Or…maybe they hadn’t.

I wasn’t sure anymore.

My dick came to life as memories of that night flooded my mind. And to stop myself from doing anything about it—refusing to find pleasure in the shit she’d brought to my doorstep—I pressed my palms against the tile wall. The water cascaded down my back, easing the tension that had taken over since jumping in the lake, and my head served as a shield for the front of my body. Not even the chill trickling down my chest and abs warded off the need to ease the growing ache.

I closed my eyes and mentally reverted to that fateful Saturday night—the one that changed my entire life.

She’d fought me at first, refusing to allow me to help. And initially, I’d let her win. There was no point in getting involved, so I’d decided to let her go. Honestly, I was on my way toward the door, ready to get in my car and face the music, but at the last second, I’d turned around. And that was when I’d caught her trying to open a locked door. She’d been so adamant about finding privacy to clean her face, and I couldn’t fight my need to intervene. I hadn’t been driven by want or lust—just an authentic, genuine desire to help someone who clearly needed protection.

I’d just left the men’s room and hadn’t noticed anyone else near the hallway, so I assumed it was empty. I’d led her there. And she’d followed. No argument, no protest, not even a hint of hesitation. Not two minutes earlier, I’d convinced myself that she had seen in me what everyone else had. Yet had that been the case, she never would’ve followed me inside. She never would’ve allowed me to lock the door. And she certainly wouldn’t have given me the chance to touch her. But she did—all of it. And when she looked at me, she wasn’t scared, didn’t doubt me. If anything, she’d appeared grateful.

I couldn’t repress the images of her face, her eyes, the way she’d clung to me as I bandaged her cut. Her moans and sighs reverberated through my memories until I had a tight grip around my dick. I just held it, squeezed it, hoping to break the need for more and choke the desire until it went away. Regardless of what I did, the longer I replayed her image behind my closed eyelids, the harder it—and I—became.

The memories played like a movie in my mind. Like when she’d gotten pissed and helped herself to the Jack I’d picked up before heading to the motel one of the nights. The scenes were never ending when I recalled her virtual striptease in the bathroom, the way her breasts filled the cups of her bra, and how her body had taunted me even then. And before I knew it, I began to rub myself in long, punishing strokes.

I could almost feel her in my arms after that shower, and the heat of her illusionary skin caused my balls to tighten. The reel continued with clips of the following night when I’d buried myself inside her, and lust covered my skin in unimaginable heat. I gripped myself tighter, pumping harder, faster. My breaths coming out harsher, shorter, as I envisioned her body beneath mine, her nails digging into my arms, her gasps and whimpers floating around me.

I couldn’t hold back any longer. With the echoes of her coming playing in my mind, I let go, and then watched my release wash down the drain. Once my heart rate slowed, I managed to think beyond that moment in time, to less than an hour later when I’d sat alone in the booth. And that’s when my anger returned.

I slammed the side of my fist against the shower wall; then I shut off the water. My breathing was out of control, though there wasn’t much I could do to stop it. The only way I’d be able to calm down was to get it all off my chest.

After drying off and pulling on a pair of jersey pants, I left the bathroom. Maggie was around the corner in the kitchen, sitting on the floor against the cabinets. Her knees were pulled up, yet she didn’t hold them to her like I’d seen her do before. At first glance, she almost appeared relaxed, possibly even comfortable. Although, the fear glistening in her eyes contradicted it.

I didn’t say anything. Instead, I fell into the recliner in the corner of the living room, just next to the door that led outside. That was when she finally spoke up, breaking the silence in the room.

“That’s my grandpa’s chair.”

“I would hope so, considering this was his house and all.”

“No. I mean that was his favorite chair. I don’t think he ever sat anywhere else.”

I gripped the full, puffy armrests and observed them. “It’s nice—definitely worn in. I’m willing to bet it was expensive when he first bought it.” When she did nothing but stare at me from across the room, I smiled. “Usually, when a recliner is used a lot, it loses support in the seat. And while this one isn’t stiff like it would be if it were new, it certainly hasn’t lost its support. I can see why it was his favorite.”

Her shoulders lifted with each inhalation while she regarded me. It was obvious her mind was elsewhere, even though her eyes were set on me. She didn’t speak, just sat and stared, breathing as if her thoughts had strangled her.

It didn’t matter how angry I was, there was no way I would allow her to have a panic attack—if that’s what this actually was and not another way to play me for a fool. I kept talking, hoping it would pull her out of the trance to keep me from going to her.

“He must’ve liked looking outside.” I stuck my finger between the slit in the curtains and drew half of it to the side. “I closed everything up before you got out of the shower, and I happened to notice this was the cleanest window. Like…by far. All the others have a milky film over them, but this one…it’s crystal clear.”

I let the fabric go and turned to Maggie, who by now, shook like a leaf. Her attention remained in my direction, but if I had to guess, she was staring at the window, not me. I glanced between it and her a few times, wondering what the hell had triggered this response, but I wouldn’t get an answer unless I asked for one. I still wasn’t sure how much of her reaction was genuine, or how much of it was for show, so I hesitated to entertain her with questions.

Deciding to drop it—for now—I got up and retrieved the bag of snacks I’d brought in from the truck earlier. I tossed it onto the couch, and then went to her. All the while, she never took her eyes off the glass pane. Or chair…it was hard to tell what she focused on. I reached down, wrapped my fingers around her arm, and helped her to her feet. To my surprise, she came willingly.

There was no part of the couch I could seat her at that would prevent her from seeing the window, and I’d started to believe the fear that strangled her was real. The way her eyes glazed over, the color light yet dull, nearly convinced me. But what really got me were her clammy palms. Lots of things could be faked—tears, body shakes, screams, panic attacks—except I didn’t believe a person could purposefully make their hands sweat. So rather than try to turn her away from whatever held her in its grip, I sat close to her, hoping it would call her attention to me instead.

“I don’t feel comfortable leaving to get food, and the idea of calling a delivery person to the house doesn’t sit well with me. Not to mention, we have no clue how long any of that food has been in the fridge, nor who it belongs to. So I guess our dinner will have to be Cheetos and Cool Ranch Doritos.” I pulled out a half-eaten package of Ding Dongs and a bag of Twizzlers. “These can be dessert.”

Even though she’d taken the snacks, she barely touched any of it. I couldn’t complain, because while she sat next to me, she kept her sights trained on the bag of corn chips in her lap and not the chair fifteen feet away.

“What happened to you?” I couldn’t have kept the question to myself if I’d tried. I needed the truth, unable to carry on until I had at least that piece of the puzzle answered. Granted, it was a broad inquiry, leaving her plenty of room to respond in a variety of ways, but at this point, I would’ve been happy with just about anything.

Her gaze slowly lifted, traveling up my bare chest until it reached my eyes. “What do you mean?”

That wasn’t what I was looking for, and the idea of having to clarify it unnerved me. “I understand it’s been a while since the last time we…um, hung out, and I’m fully aware that there’s a chance the person I thought you were was all an act. Regardless of whether it was real or fake, you were strong. You were on the run”—that was still questionable—“yet you held your shit together for the most part. So why have you been a broken mess ever since yesterday morning?”

“You hate me, Talon. You’ve made that abundantly clear. If it weren’t for your car, I would’ve never seen you again—you can’t deny that. And if I’m being honest…I kinda wish you hadn’t come back.”

It took a moment to absorb what she said. She was right—I wouldn’t have tracked her down if it hadn’t been for the car. Still, I was confused by the last part. No, I hadn’t made things easy for her. Hell, she hadn’t made anything easy for me. I just didn’t understand how she could’ve possibly made herself out to be the victim in this.

“Why do you wish that?”

Again, her weakness shone brightly in the tear that broke free and slithered down her cheek. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Yes, it does. Now tell me.”

She shook her head in short, jerky motions and pulled in a stuttering breath. “I kept thinking that one day, we’d run into each other. You’d let me explain everything, and then we’d have a chance to pick up where we left off. I’ve gone into that gas station in Fleetwood so many times, just hoping you’d be there. But you never are. And when you finally did come around, you didn’t give two shits about what I had to say. Ever since you cornered me after my shift at the diner, it’s been what you want to talk about, when you want to talk about it. Where you want to go and what you want to do. And anytime I’ve objected—for very valid reasons—you couldn’t care less.”

“You see, this is where I’m confused, Maggie. If you were so interested in picking up where we left off, why did you run away?”

“I came back!” Her chips were nothing more than crumbs after she squeezed the bag, proving just how hot the fury burned inside her. “I already told you that. Yet you still haven’t explained where you were that night. Was I not enough? Did you go hook up with some chick in her room after sleeping with me? Did you walk to a bus station…or hitch a ride? I don’t know, Talon, because you refuse to tell me.”

I could no longer refrain from telling her the truth—well, most of it. “I was arrested, Maggie. Once I realized you hadn’t gone to the bathroom, I left the bar and went to the parking lot. My keys were missing, and I desperately wanted to believe you only needed them to get something out of the trunk. But a few seconds later, the cops pulled up, and they took me to jail.”

Her mouth gaped and a gasp filled the space between us. “Why? That doesn’t make any sense. I left so you wouldn’t get caught up in my shit.”

“So you knew they were on their way?”

“Yes. Kind of.” Her posture relaxed somewhat, more than likely out of defeat. “While you were in the bathroom, after we came inside from the rain, I checked my phone. I had turned it off before running into you at the gas station because my texts were blowing up with hateful messages from my boy—” She shook her head. “From that guy I was with. Gramps’s home nurse used to reach out to me pretty regularly to give me updates on how he was doing. I wondered if I’d missed any calls or messages from her, so I decided to turn it on to see.”

I remembered her sitting on the bed, messing with her cell after retrieving it from her bag; at the time, I hadn’t thought anything about it. But now, I couldn’t stop thinking about how brazen she was.

“I just need to feel something more than loneliness right now.”

If only I’d paid more attention at the time.

“More nasty texts from that first night popped up. Then, after we sat down for dinner, new ones came through. Like…brand new. Somehow, he found out where I was and said the police were on their way to get me. I had no clue if he was making it up or not, but I couldn’t wait around and find out.”

“Then why didn’t you just tell me that? Why take off and leave me to fend for myself?”

“I panicked, Talon. My mind was clearly not in the right place. I wasn’t thinking about how you’d get out of there, because I didn’t see a reason for you to have to run. And I needed your phone for directions so I could figure out where I was going. Again, not taking into consideration you didn’t have a way to reach anyone. But I swear to you…” She leaned forward and took my hand. “I never thought, not once, that you’d get in any trouble. I didn’t involve you in it because I didn’t want you to get caught in the middle of the mess I created when I stole that money. And once my head cleared enough to see what I’d done, I turned around.”

God, I wished I could believe her. More than anything, I yearned to trust what she was saying. Except I wasn’t ready to release the resentment I’d carried with me all this time. “That doesn’t explain why you’ve changed. Is it regret that’s made you weak?”

Maggie pulled her hand from mine and shut down. Observing her reaction, it was plain as day. Desperation had narrowed her gaze while she explained her motivation for leaving me at the motel. I would’ve gone as far as saying sincerity sang in her tone. Yet now, utter defeat swam in her eyes, and raw pain hung on her downturned lips.

“I don’t for one second believe you’re this person, Maggie. I can’t accept that the same girl I was with for those two days would’ve…whatever you were trying to do today by jumping in the lake. I’ve seen more tears in your eyes than any other emotion. I can vividly recall moments from before where you were defensive, defiant, offended…strong. None of which I see when I look at you now.”

Her voice lowered to a throaty whisper when she said, “I just explained it to you. If that wasn’t enough, then I don’t know what you expect. I mean, you already think everything I say is a lie, so maybe if I actually tell one, you’ll believe it.”

“Regardless of your reasons, it’s not adding up.”

“What am I supposed to say, Talon? Huh? How about you tell me what will make you happy so I can repeat it.” Finally, a real reaction from her. One that wasn’t laced with tears or didn’t come with an impenetrable wall.

As much as I wanted to keep this up, keep her fighting, I longed for the smiles and laughter, the bright eyes and occasional shyness. Except, I didn’t think that girl would ever return. I should’ve been happy that this side of her—the one that was capable of weakening my resolve—had vanished…but I wasn’t.

“I’m just trying to understand. Because I don’t. I don’t get how you could do what you did, and then be pissed at me for not running to you with open arms, ready to hear everything you had to say. You turned around. Fantastic. But what good does that do me now? That’s fine if you didn’t think I’d get in trouble if you weren’t there, except I did.”

“How? There was no way anyone would’ve assumed we were together to even put you with me at that motel. It’s not like you had the money. You didn’t even have any information about what had happened that night.”

I grew quiet as my mind flashed to the blue and red lights that flooded the parking lot outside the bar. There were parts of that night I didn’t want to disclose. I still had to get her home, and I was certain if I told her I’d basically been convicted of murder, she’d run, refusing to come with me. Again, it shouldn’t have mattered now that I had my car…but it did. It seemed a part of me still cared about her well-being—a tie my heart refused to cut.

“What are the chances two people from Iowa are both in a small town in Mississippi, much less the same motel?” Apparently, this wasn’t as odd of a coincidence as one would imagine. Either that, or the cops who had shown up were morons, because they not once questioned it while they had me detained. I hoped for the civilians’ sakes, they had never become detectives.

“There’s nothing else to say except sorry. And apparently, that’s not what you’re looking for. I can’t go back in time and change it, no matter how many nights I prayed for the ability to do just that. I was eighteen and scared. There was no way for me to know you would’ve gotten arrested.”

She was right. That had only happened because of the warrant, which she hadn’t been privy to because I’d kept it a secret. She had no reason to assume I’d get in any trouble—she was unaware of my crimes and had only taken her own into account. If what she had told me was true—that she’d left to protect herself, thinking I would be fine, and then returned after the dust had settled—then my resentment wasn’t completely justified. Yes, her actions had negative ramifications on my life, but she hadn’t understood that at the time. Not to mention, she claimed to have done it to save me from going down with her, and I couldn’t fault her for that.

“Maybe we should get some sleep. We have a long drive ahead of us, which will give us plenty of time to hash this out.” As much as I wanted to get it over with, make it water under the bridge and move on, we were talking in circles. It was going nowhere fast. And since I had a tendency to grow in understanding while sleeping next to her, I figured it was worth a shot.

“Do we have to sleep upstairs? There’s no telling who’s been living here, and it creeps me out to climb into their beds.”

“No, we don’t have to. Let’s make pallets on the floor. Do you have any idea where there might be some pillows and blankets?”

“The couch is a pull-out. One of us can take that, and there’s the recliner you love so much.”

I nodded and stood, taking the bag of snacks with me. “Sounds good. Go look for something to sleep with and at least two pillows, and I’ll unfold the couch.”

Maggie waited to head down the hall until I had the sack stuffed into my duffel. And by the time she made it back, I had the pull-out open, ready to be covered with a sheet. She tossed a few linens and a pillow onto the recliner, then began to dress the thin mattress with the rest. Apparently, she expected me to sleep on the chair while she took the bed.

Not if I could help it.

I picked up the pillow and moved it next to hers. She stood to the side and watched silently, as if unaware of what I was doing. The muscles in my cheeks tugged my lips into a subtle smirk when she realized my intentions.

She crawled onto the thin mattress after I had it set up, as though I would change my mind if she claimed it first. “Thanks, but where are you going to sleep?” she asked, pulling the blanket up to her shoulders.

Without answering, I shuffled into the kitchen to turn off the light, and then did the same with the lamp on the end table next to the couch. She might not have been able to see me, but she definitely knew what I was doing when I climbed in behind her and slid beneath the covers. That much was evident in her shocking gasp.

“What are you doing, Talon?” Her concern rang through the dark room.

I turned onto my side, facing her back, and said, “Going to bed. Don’t make me get the cuffs.”