Page 21

A dam isn’t mad at me .

Even better, he hadn’t asked what was wrong. Why she was shivering.

Not only didn’t he blame her for leaving early, but he’d also been the one to suggest it.

When she’d gone into that dark pit Boyd created the previous evening, making her feel helpless, Adam hadn’t asked what she needed — he just made the decision to take her home.

Yeah, Lala and Rusty had stepped in after she’d gotten herself out of the truck, but what if he’d subdued her? What if he’d covered her mouth, kept her from screaming?

That’s why No had tumbled out of her mouth.

For just a second, watching the female actor in a similar situation, her mind had gone where it always did.

When she trained for search and rescue, she always ran scenarios, asked herself What if ?

Now the what-ifs had turned on her.

What if I couldn’t scream ?

What if I hadn’t been strong enough to get out of the truck ?

What if no one had come, and he caught me outside the Blazer ?

Maybe that’s why reliving the moment hit so hard… because the outcome could’ve been so different, so much worse.

What if I’d been somewhere else when Boyd showed his true self ?

She sighed quietly. But Adam — he hadn’t needed explanations. Hadn’t demanded anything.

He just acted. Got her out.

Adam chose the ending to that awful movie she hadn’t even known she needed.

Yeah, she liked the music, but she had the album.

She never wanted to relive that horrible scene — in reality or onscreen — ever again.

Claire gazed at the marquee through the rear window. The Goodbye Girl .

She liked the song, too. But what guy would admit that? Or even like the group Bread ?

Adam would. Her Adam. Her prince in faded ranch-hand gear.

And already, she couldn’t wait for next weekend.

“You okay?” Adam’s voice broke the stillness in the truck.

“I am now.” Claire shifted in her seat. She hadn’t realized how tightly she’d curled against the door.

“You were shaking.”

“I was?”

“You were.” Adam stared straight ahead, hands locked at ten and two, knuckles bone-white against the steering wheel.

She hadn’t noticed before how rough his hands looked — red, grayish in places, marked with old scars. Not the hands of a typical teenage boy. They showed strength, the kind that could break a wild horse. And yet, those strong hands had pulled her into his arms to protect her, not hurt her.

Boyd’s hands were smooth, characterless — like his soul. No callouses. No scars. No signs he’d ever labored a day in his life. Worse, they were the hands of a brute.

Claire scooted closer, repeating what he’d said earlier. “I’m gonna be just fine.”

Adam inclined his head, resting his temple against hers. His skin was hot. Burning hot.

Claire reached up, pressing the back of her palm to his neck.

She reared back. “You’re burning up. Are you okay?”

His shoulders lifted and dropped.

“Adam!” Claire cried. “Pull over, please. I’ll drive.”

He didn’t argue, just scanned the roadside. “It’s not safe. If someone skids off the road —”

“Adam,” she said again, firmer. “You’re not well.”

“I’m fine. I’m just… upset.”

“ Upset doesn’t make most people overheat.”

“It does me,” he said softly.

“Why are you upset?”

His top lip lifted, not a smile. His eyes shimmered.

“Oh, Adam,” Claire begged. “Please pull over.”

The truck slowed, so he must’ve let off the gas. He flicked the blinker, easing onto a wide shoulder. Everything Adam did, he did with the utmost care.

A few weeks ago when she and Boyd had doubled with Lala and Roger, Boyd had wanted to take his fancy black truck. He’d driven like a maniac, even though the streets had still been icy. Claire had told Lala to never let him drive again.

When Adam finally brought the truck to a full stop, he shifted into park and lowered his forehead to the steering wheel.

“Adam?” Claire whispered. “Talk to me. Please.”

“I can’t.”

“Did I… do something wrong?”

He jerked his head up. “No, Claire. Of course not. Why would you think that?”

“I don’t know.” She did know. Because of Boyd. Because Boyd had been a jerk for weeks, making her always wonder if she’d said or done something wrong. “I’m sorry.”

He cradled her face in both hands. “You don’t have any reason to be sorry.

You’re everything to me. I’ve… missed you so much.

You just… disappeared.” He leaned in, resting his forehead against hers.

“Then… what happened was so awful. I’m only sixteen, Claire.

I don’t… I don’t know how to handle everything that’s happened.

My parents. Thomas…” He exhaled, sounding exhausted.

“Then tonight, when you were shaking in my arms… I remembered what Rusty told me. What did Boyd do to you, Claire? If anything ever happened to you — now that I’ve found you again —”

“I’m okay.” Claire pressed her head to his chest and wrapped her arms around him. Whatever Adam was going through, she didn’t want to add to his pain. “Boyd scared me, but he didn’t know who he was dealing with.”

Adam held her by her shoulders and gently pulled back to look in her eyes. “What does that mean?”

Claire bit her lip. “I might’ve cracked his ribs.”

His brow arched. “Really? Rusty forgot to mention that tidbit.”

She grinned, happy to report that, while she loved fairy tales like The Princess Bride , she wasn’t some damsel in distress. “Rusty definitely stopped any further assault, but I got out of the Blazer on my own. I wasn’t about to let that whack job get the upper hand.”

Adam’s laugh came low and soft. “Good. But I have to ask… Not that you’re weak — I’ve seen you handle Buttercup, and Boyd’s no Arnold — but that creep has about a foot and eighty pounds on you. How did you…”

“Well, he won’t be laying a hand on me ever again.

And how … Climbing, baby! All those times, using nothing but my fingertips to pull myself to the next ledge allowed me to get a grip on the door…

” She grinned again. “I’ve trained to save others.

Never thought it’d end up saving me. My wooden high heels helped, too. ”

Adam threw his head back. “I’ll bet.” He brought his gaze back to hers. “I’m still mad, but hearing that definitely makes me feel better.”

Claire hated to push when he’d just smiled, but she knew his near breakdown wasn’t just about her. He’d mentioned his parents and Thomas — and he’d been pretending to be Thomas — so something bad must have happened to his family.

She slid her fingers beneath his and laced their hands together. “What happened to your parents… and Thomas?”

He let out a long breath. “Remember that earthquake two years ago? It wasn’t even that strong — not like the big ones in Asia or the one that hit here in ’64.

No deaths were even reported on the news.

The official police report just said that there was a hairline crack in the mountainside.

Then the road gave way. Took their car with it. Wrong place. Wrong second.”

Claire gasped. “Adam. Mine, too. My parents died the same way. The same day.”

His eyes widened. “I’m so sorry, Claire. I didn’t know. Your dad… and your mom? Is that why you left school?”

She nodded. “Yeah. My grandmother took me in. I’ve been okay. My parents were really old when they had me, so I’d already been worrying I might lose them. But your parents… were so young.” Her voice broke. “Wait. Thomas was with them?”

“No. Thomas —” Adam’s breath caught. “He took care of us afterward. Provided for Peter and me for two years. But Friday night… Thomas pulled us out of bed at midnight, told us to run. I saw two black trucks racing to our house. I went back, but it was… too… late.” His voice cracked.

“There were too many of them. Eight men. They… murdered him.”

Claire’s hand flew to her mouth. “Murdered… Thomas?”

Adam nodded.

She gaped at him. “Oh, God. Wh-what are the police doing? Why are you and Peter here? Who were those men?”

Adam swiped at his face, then gripped her hands in his again. “I shouldn’t have said anything. I’m sorry. Claire, you can’t tell anyone.”

“I don’t understand. They have to pay —”

“Claire!” His grip tightened, panic flooding his voice. “Please. Forget what I said. You can’t tell anyone.”

His fear pierced her heart. “Okay,” she whispered. “I trust you, Adam. I won’t tell anyone. I don’t understand, but I won’t.”

His shoulders lowered, the tension in his body softening. “Thank you, Claire.” He placed a hand over his heart. “Seeing you this morning… It reminded me.” His voice faltered. “I’m still me in here. I wasn’t ready for this. But having Peter to take care of, and finding you…”

“No one would be.” Claire sniffed back her tears.

“But you know what?” She touched his cheek, mirroring how he’d touched hers.

“You do have me, and if anyone could survive all this, it’s you, Adam.

” She smiled through fresh tears. “Even while falling apart behind the wheel, you looked for the safest place to pull over.”

Back at the ranch, Adam parked his truck far off the berm.

Claire realized she probably should’ve done that with the Blazer — instead of leaving it next to the fence where Clara Mae was sure to see it. She’d come up with an excuse if Clara Mae asked why her truck was there long after closing time.

Adam let out a shaky breath, then opened his door and stepped into the cold night air.

A moment later, he appeared at her side, pulling open her door like it was 1955.

Shirley, with her blue angora cardigan and pearls, would’ve been thrilled.

Claire wondered, just for a second, if Shirley knew there was no such thing as blue angora rabbits — and how those poor animals were treated before they were shaved for sweaters.

She shook off the chill and turned her attention back to Adam.

He took her hand, helped her down from the cab, then walked her to the Blazer.

As he’d done earlier, he opened her door, helped her up, checked that her arms and legs were inside, then gently closed it behind her.

He stepped back, giving her space to drive off.

Claire rolled down the window. “Hey…”

He walked back, leaned in, one hand resting on the frame.

“We’re gonna be okay,” she said softly. “Tragedy pulled us apart. And then tragedy — or fate or whatever — shoved us back together. It sucks, but… we’re survivors, you and I.”

Adam nodded. “We definitely are.”